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Even in the darkest nights, the Erd Tree lit up the royal palace with its golden radiance, falling leaves taking on the appearance of fading fireflies. At this late hour, few servants still roamed the white stone corridors, and the few guards present did not venture to question the slender figure advancing silently. Only the eyes of the painted portraits followed the individual with a solemn gaze.
Malenia had left her room a few minutes ago, after a long time cleaning and dressing her rotten body. The chronic pain seemed bearable today, so she took this opportunity to finally request a brief audience with the Queen, her mother. Miquella had almost dissuaded her, but she had held firm.
It was she who had summoned this nameless nomadic knight, her mentor, to ward off the evil that gnawed at her. It was she who had allowed her daughter to take up the sword and train, proving that another path lay before her, other than the bleak walls of her room and the bed on which she lay, withered by pain and fear. Finally, it was she who had sworn to him that, alive, no outer god would claim her daughter's body as his vessel.
And yet, Malenia hadn't seen her mother in a year.
Seeing her at banquets, at meetings, or just passing through a corridor—none of that mattered; it wasn't her mother, but the Eternal who appeared then. A whole year had passed since the last time the Queen deigned to be alone with her offspring in the same room. It was on her fifteenth birthday, the day after she lost her right arm, her flesh no longer able to withstand the constant assaults suffered by the reddish nuisance. Her memories remained hazy because of the fever that had gripped her, but one image remained in her mind: her mother's silhouette beside her bed, praying quietly. Sometimes, she remembered her hand dabbing her forehead with a damp towel, brushing away the hair stuck to her temples with sweat. But it was more likely the patient gestures of a doctor, her mother having not touched her since the scarlet rot had claimed her child's body. One could not risk losing the Goddess with mere physical contact. From then on, existing near her mother seemed to be a constant joust between the god of putrefaction and her, Malenia becoming both shield and time bomb.
As she stepped onto the last step of the high staircase leading to the Queen's quarters, a low rumble echoed across the patio, halting her pace. With a clink of metallic armor, a dark figure crowned with a long white mane appeared in the doorway. With his imposing half-wolf stature, Maliketh towered over the young demigoddess by three heads, if not more. His curled lips revealed sharp, immaculate teeth as he spoke these words:
"The Queen is resting."
The half-wolf's voice was so deep it made young Malenia's ribs tremble. A simple warning stated as obvious, but one that would have sent any servant running with great strides. As unlucky as she was, Malenia was fortunately not one of those people, and immediately replied calmly:
"Black Blade. I wish to speak with the Queen Mother."
-Can't it wait until daybreak, Princess?"
-I cannot risk interfering with Her Majesty's schedule."
Speaking so solemnly of her mother left a strange taste on her tongue even after all this time, but hadn't she accepted the distance placed between them? Didn't she even contribute to it in the way she spoke of her? Maliketh didn't give her time to think further, continuing his low growls:
"I cannot let you pass without knowing the reason for your visit.
-I have come to report on my progress with the blade,” the young swordswoman replied. “The Queen Mother has not yet had the opportunity to see me in action. I would like to invite her to one of my training sessions.”
The request sounded so childish now that she said it aloud. The poor, distressed little princess begging for her mother’s attention—that was the image she must avoid. So she remained straight and impassive, worthy of her status as a warrior in the making. If she believed it, they would too.
“I have heard of your progress,” Maliketh admitted. “So you consider yourself skilled enough to show her your single year of apprenticeship? Or have you simply adopted the arrogance of Leyndell’s soldiers by being around them?
-If you doubt it, I will be happy to prove it to you in a joust, Black Blade.”
Another growl rumbled from the half-wolf's throat, this time tinged with amusement. If his face weren't so terrifying, one might have thought the queen's brother was smiling.
"You'll have to prove yourself worthy of this attitude, princess. But let's wait a few seasons before that. Go. And don't linger any longer than necessary. The Queen has a lot to do tomorrow."
Not wanting to push her luck, Malenia bowed politely to the beast before quickly stepping into the corridor. She wished this were the biggest obstacle to overcome, but pretending would have gotten her nowhere. A few meters further on, the door to Marika's room stood, made of austere dark wood, a stark contrast with the golden flourishes throughout the castle. No portraits on the walls, no elegant flowerpots, one would almost have thought one was in a simple city building if one hadn't seen the Erd Tree from the window. Malenia hesitated for a long time in front of this door, as if knocking on it would make her last good arm disappear. But she had to convey her progress to her mother; for her own pride, and, in all honesty, hoping to perceive her mother's as well. May she be sure of fulfilling her will, divine as well as maternal. So she knocked on the door.
An eternity passed without receiving a response. Was her mother asleep? She doubted it, for even as a child, the Queen's insomnia was commonplace. Perhaps she was in an adjacent room and hadn't heard her gesture? After a minute of afterthought, hesitation, and doubt, Malenia allowed herself to open the door, come what may, and entered the room.
She was there. Standing, leaning over a stone table almost as wide as the room, where parchments, letters, books, and missives were spread out. Head bowed, shoulders tense, Marika seemed so human, as if the weight of the entire Elden Ring pressed down on her body. Hope blossomed within the young girl: perhaps she would have not just an audience, but a real conversation.
"Good evening, Mother."
The Queen's head swiveled swiftly toward the voice, revealing one of her golden eyes through a few strands of blond hair. A sharp gaze fixed on this newcomer, which visibly took her by surprise, but Malenia didn't read only astonishment. It was as if she were witnessing an apparition, a ghost come to haunt her night, freezing her in place. She must have been truly pitiful to look at, with her mop of red hair kept to the bare minimum. It took Marika a few seconds to relax, then straighten up to her full height, slowly pivoting toward her interlocutor.
"Malenia."
Her name echoed through the room, and she suddenly felt very small. Although she was now approaching the height of the woman in front of her, the gaze of a Goddess dwarfed this fact. The Eternal spoke to her, and the world seemed to shut down, leaving only the Ring-bearer and the deafening silence. It was like watching a stranger steal her mother's features, driving away any comfort she might have expected. Swallowing as quietly as possible, Malenia dropped to one knee, head bowed in respect.
"I have a request to make of you, Mother."
A few seconds passed without anything moving—Malenia sometimes wondered if her mother was breathing—, and without being prompted to continue. The golden gaze remained on her, she felt its weight on the top of her head, like the tip of a burning poker. After an interminable minute, swallowing again, Malenia continued in the clearest voice possible:
"My training with my mentor is going smoothly. I am able to lead my duels to victory, as well as hold off the rot long enough to live alongside my peers."
She refrained from adding and you, burying that flash of arrogance Maliketh had noted earlier.
"I would like, if you’d allow me, to invite you to one of these training sessions to show you how I've improved."
If her bruised skin still allowed it, her cheeks would surely have reddened. Ah, she had rehearsed her request so many times over the past few days, to make sure it sounded fair and reasonable. Now, the budding warrior seemed to be hiding behind this little girl crying out for her mother. Why did she always feel so miserable when she spoke to her? Her half-sister Ranni seemed so close to her own mother, each of their conversations self-evident, never requiring justification. Her thoughts racing, Malenia was surprised to hear an answer so quickly.
"I'll make an appearance," Marika began slowly, "at the next spring tournament." In a few months. "If your swordsmanship proves so successful, I suppose I'll find you among the participants."
She tried to stifle the budding disappointment on her face, reassuring herself that this wasn't a definitive refusal, simply... a postponement. A more formal opportunity to prove herself, that's all. Everything she wanted. Perhaps she could even face her half-brother Radanh and put on a real show. But this burst of inspiration was quickly cut short by that same slow voice:
"Is that all you wanted to share with me?"
It's already over. At least she had been able to express herself without regret, disappointing as it was. Malenia nodded silently, waiting for her mother to dismiss her before wishing her a pleasant night. Instead, another silence hung in the air as the Queen continued to stare at her, imperturbable.
"You don't do your hair anymore," Marika noted simply. "You and Miquella always wore the same braids as children."
Her hair hadn't been styled since the onset of rot. As for herself, maintaining her thick, reddish hair took too long. A simple low ponytail was enough during training, easily concealed under a helmet and armor. She was about to shake her head when she heard:
"Come closer."
A simple request, which sounded like an order. Docile, Malenia obeyed, a soldier facing her general. Marika made her sit on a stool too small for her long legs, then went to a chest of drawers to remove a hairbrush from its inside. Yawningly ordinary, with a wooden handle and light bristles, the queen returned with the object in hand and sat down behind her daughter. Before beginning anything, the Queen invoked her magic, bathing her fingers in light so that the rot wouldn't set on her skin. The first brushstrokes were uncertain and delicate, and at that moment, Malenia felt more helpless than ever. Vulnerable. Even though the gold separated her from her mother's natural touch, it suited her. It hadn't been touched for so long.
The delicacy ceased as Marika separated the thick hair into sections, revealing the bruised skin hidden beneath. The nape of her neck, the shoulders, the back... It was a miracle that her child's body was still holding together, and who knew how long it would. She had already lost an arm, after all; who knew when the rest would follow. Without exchanging a word, mother and daughter seemed to relive the atrocious scene in the deafening silence. Afterward, the brushstrokes became firmer, almost harsh. It was no longer her daughter beneath that hair; Marika seemed to want to chase away the putrefaction with every gesture, to chase away this external god trying to seize the flesh she had given birth to. With each blow, Malenia's head was jerked back, and though the pain was nothing compared to what she had endured for years, her status as a daughter and demigod seemed like a joke as the Queen treated her like a common scarecrow. Did she even see her anymore? Or was she now focused only on this nefarious influence taking root within her? I am here. I am fighting. I am doing everything I can, Mother, I promise you.
A low groan escaped her as the brush encountered a knot that was too tough, and she felt hesitation in her mother's hand. A moment passed before she asked:
"Did I hurt you?"
-No, Mother."
-Do not lie to me. I hate it."
Malenia held back a swallow, all too aware of the burning gaze watching her every reaction.
"A little, she admitted.
-Why didn't you tell me?
-It's not that bad."
Marika didn't reply, but her gestures calmed. The absence of gentleness was noticeable, but at least she no longer tried to provoke an enemy who didn't dwell in a rebellious mop of hair. When the hair was finally properly untangled, the Queen then began to braid it. Although she couldn't see her do it, Maleina sensed that these braids differed from her brother's: intricate and elegant, Miquella's braids created a veritable adornment amidst his golden hair. Here, her mother's braids were simpler and more modest, almost childlike. At first, she hesitantly created them, as if trying to remember how to do it, but soon she was devoting herself to them at a steady and patient pace. Maleina wondered where she had learned that. It was difficult to imagine her mother learning the secrets of hairdressing from mere servants, or mere mortals at that. It was even more unlikely to imagine her as a young girl, learning to braid from her own mother. Perhaps that was why she had such a hard time with her own daughter; she didn't know how to go about it. This excuse made her forget the pain for a few moments.
When her mother freed her hair from her touch, she made her stand up to admire the result. She could feel six braids taking root on her head, then joining into two thick braids resting on her shoulders. A child's hairstyle, coarse in places, still more elegant than her usual wild mane. It could almost have been a mirror of Marika's own braid hanging over her shoulder, missing only a twin in parallel. Her mother watched her without really seeing her, lost in her thoughts while staring at the braids. Did it bring back a memory? Her features relaxed, and although no smile blossomed on her lips, the Eternal seemed a little more human for a few seconds. Malenia didn't dare say a word, for fear of breaking the spell and losing this precious moment where they formed a semblance of family. She didn't need to, because Marika quickly regained her composure once she met her child's gaze.
"You should go to bed. It's late."
Then she turned, heading back to the parchments waiting on the stone table, and resumed her original posture, hunched over the paperwork. It took Malenia a few seconds to tear her gaze away from this mother blowing hot and then cold, and hesitated to thank her for the braids before refraining. What was the point? Instead, she simply curtsied and wished her goodnight. As she pivoted to reach the exit door, she thought she heard a murmur from her mother, and stopped to look at her again. Her mother had raised her head and was staring at a point in the void on the ceiling. Unable to read her expression since her back was to the young girl, Malenia could have sworn she heard a sentence, too long to wish her a good night's rest.
How many more children will you take from me?
To whom was this complaint addressed? To outer deities? To the Greater Will? It did not matter. Without further ado, Malenia left the room briskly, her braids hanging behind her, too heavy to lift in her haste. The urge to undo them as quickly as possible took hold of her. She walked past Maliketh without exchanging a word, rushed down the stairs, wanting nothing more than to sink into her bed and move on to a new day, any other day.
As long as it wasn't the one her mother already considered her lost.