Work Text:
Rarely did the Tarnished recall his homeland. The past was clouded in fog, as was the curse of all Tarnished, a dim, muted echo eclipsed by the Erdtree’s divine light. But sometimes, faint fragments broke through-- slivers of the life he’d once had, the man he’d once been-- and he clung to them greedily, as though they might slip through his fingers, devouring them in the quieter moments of his journey.
A quiet evening spent under a venerable oak tree, watching the sun set beneath rolling hills and green pastures. A younger sister, clinging to his leg, grinning up at him. Her eyes were green, like his once were. A festival parading through the village, banners of colour flapping overhead, and a merry tune he can still hum on better days, when the fog abated just a little more. Couples frolicking through the streets, laughing and dancing and kissing each other with abandon. Gifts shared, not brought from the city, but handcrafted with love and care. Devotion.
A day of devotion, dedicated to those you cared most profoundly for.
He mused on that last memory often, now Melina was by his side. After everything they’d been through, from the ruins of Limgrave to the rotted lakes of Caelid and now here, before the sweeping walls of Leyndell, it felt only fitting to share a piece of himself with her, as his maiden so often had with him.
Melina always knew when he needed her. The Tarnished had come to rest for but a brief moment before she appeared next to him, pale mist lingering in her wake. Months ago, when they’d first struck this humble accord, she’d held a respectable distance, a Site of Grace always firmly between them. Finger Maiden and Tarnished, drawn to the Erdtree. United in common cause, and little else.
That was then.
Now, Melina’s leg brushed his as she slipped in close, her soft warmth coming to rest against his shoulder, and her fingers wove into his without a second thought. A radiant smile played across her lips, her elegant beauty illuminated beneath the Erdtree’s light.
She set his heart aflutter. Every. Single. Time.
“My Tarnished, you have come so far. Only a little further till the foot of the Erdtree.” Melina’s smile faltered, and she gazed up towards Leyndell’s foreboding walls. “I pray we still have need of each other once our accord is concluded.”
The Tarnished squeezed her hand, drawing her gaze back to him.
“Ah, of course, you have need of me yet. Shall I turn your runes to strength? Or mayhaps, you wish to hear Queen Marika’s spoken echoes?”
He shook his head, squeezing her hand once more.
“So, you wish only to spend time with me?” Melina asked hopefully, and her radiant smile blossomed anew when the Tarnished nodded. “I desire such too. Burned and bodiless though I am, your touch warms my soul and hastens my heart. For a maiden to become so attached to her Tarnished; ‘tis almost a cardinal sin in and of itself.”
She giggled, wrapping her arms around him, her soft hair tickling his cheek. “And yet, I care not. Were it not for our duty to this world, I would spend my every waking hour in your arms.”
What a life that would be. He vowed to make it so, at any cost.
The Tarnished relaxed into his maiden’s arms, greedily indulging in her presence, her warmth and scent. Earthy and sweet, like morning dew after a heavy rainfall. He ran a thumb across her knuckle, tracing the burns marking her otherwise smooth skin. In turn, Melina pressed her lips to his neck, tracing the thin, angry scar a Black Knife Assassin had carved into him. The heat of her breath sent goosebumps prickling across his skin.
“Alas that it is day and we are in the open, otherwise I might indulge in your touch a little more intimately, my Tarnished”, she teased, grinning into his skin as she felt him shudder against her.
Gods! His maiden would be the ruin of him. He was sorely tempted to find a nice, secluded cave for them to ‘shelter’ in right now, and see her rue those teasing words.
He vowed to do so before the day’s end, but for now…
With immense strength of will, surely rivalling that of the mightiest demigods in these lands, the Tarnished gently slipped free from Melina’s embrace. He traced a calloused thumb across her smooth cheekbone, soothing her momentary disheartenment, and his maiden pressed her cheek into his hand with a wistful sigh. Warmth smouldered in her eye, and the way she gazed upon him, greedily drinking him in as though he were the most important thing in her world, sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“Oh, do you have something else in mind?” she asked, watching keenly as his other hand rummaged through his travel pack.
He pulled out a wrapped box, presenting it to Melina with a beaming grin. It was small and rectangular, wrapped in soft pink silk-- gods, finding fabric in the Lands Between that wasn’t torn, burnt, or mired in blood had been a colossal nightmare-- with a cute little satin bow tying it all together. The Tarnished had been quite proud of that last touch. His hands, so unaccustomed to anything outside of warfare, still had some measure of restraint in them. A gentle, loving touch, reserved for Melina alone.
“Happy Devotion Day.” His voice came out hoarse and rough, as much from the nerves buzzing through him as the natural by-product of his reserved demeanour.
Melina blinked, reaching out a shaky hand to accept his gift. Her scarred fingers ran along the silk almost reverently. “I cannot recall when last I received a gift. My Tarnished, you need not have gone to such effort.”
He shook his head, smiling warmly. No, she deserved this.
“Thank you”, Melina whispered, tears glistening in her eye. She leaned in to kiss him, her tantalising warmth lingering on his lips. “Though I know not what ‘Devotion Day’ is.”
He explained it to her as best he could recall. A day of affection between loved ones, often couples, where gifts are exchanged and relationships celebrated. A chance to reaffirm one’s love for another in ways the tedium and hardship of day-to-day life often didn’t permit. In that, he found it a fitting celebration for Melina and himself; so often on the road, so often thrust into peril, or seeking it out willingly as part of their accord. Never truly afforded enough time or peace to spend with one another.
He couldn't recall the date it took place on in his homeland, nor was there a calendar in the Land’s Between to mark it upon, but today seemed as good a day as any to celebrate it. Here, before the walls of Leyndell, as their accord drew ever closer to its end.
“It sounds lovely; we have nothing of the like in these lands. I wish you had spoken of this sooner, though, so I might’ve shared a gift with you as well”, Melina said, pouting.
The Tarnished laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to her free hand. “Your warmth and love are the only gifts I require.”
“Fool.” Melina blushed, suddenly finding her gift easier to look at than his face. A thumb played with the bow, and she shuffled restlessly on her knees. “Is there a tradition to this, words we might speak beforehand? Or may I…”
He shook his head. It was all hers.
Melina beamed, pecking him on the lips before opening her gift. He’d expected her to tear into it, given her poorly-concealed excitement, but instead she unwrapped it with the utmost care, ripping not so much as a single thread. First went the bow, gently untied, her fingers running the length of the smooth satin, then the soft silk was pulled away, until only a plain box remained. Melina slipped both pieces of fabric into her pockets, blushing when her Tarnished raised an eyebrow.
“Something to cherish, should I ever forget this day, Erdtree forbid.”
He prayed she’d never need it; that she’d stay by his side to the end of days, and he hers.
Melina unclasped the lid and gasped. Ten pieces of chocolate sat within the box, bumpy and misshapen attempts at a heart, but glossy, rich in colour, and with a sweet smell that brought back fond, ancient memories. Of a time long before The Shattering, before the Night of Black Knives. Of herself, younger, happier, unburned, perched atop a rooftop overlooking Leyndell, far from her mother's sight, sharing sweet treats Godwyn had snatched from the royal kitchens with Miquella and Malenia. She'd stuffed a few into her pockets, sneaking them into the hands of her Omen half-brothers as she'd passed the sewers. Mother had scolded her for that; grounded her for a month under the solemn watch of a Crucible Knight, but it had done little to dampen her high spirits.
She blinked, as much from the shock as the tears in her eye. "My Tarnished, when did you find time to make these? How?"
He rubbed the back of his head; it hadn’t all been him, admittedly. Nepheli had gifted him most of the ingredients from Limgrave’s burgeoning new farmlands-- the rest he'd pillaged from Volcano Manor's vast, conveniently lordless stores--, and Ranni had been most kind in leasing him Caria Manor’s kitchens, but the rest of the work had been all his. Mostly. It had been troublesome work, unsuited for his clumsy hands, and Blaidd had stood watch over him after his first effort had almost burnt the manor down. Ranni had joined in too after his seventh batch had crumbled before it’d even entered the oven, guiding him through the recipe in exchange for samples of his sweet treats. That the lunar princess surely couldn’t taste food in her doll body seemed irrelevant to her. Something about reliving days long passed.
There was a pair for each flavour: milk, dark, white, caramel, and mint. Ranni had been particular to the latter, unfortunately, and the Tarnished had been pressed into baking several more batches before the lunar princess had finally had her fill. Blaidd, too, had chanced a bite, but Ranni had put a firm stop to that; half-wolves couldn’t eat chocolate without becoming deathly sick, apparently. The Tarnished had taken pity on the him and made pancakes instead. Several batches, again, because Blaidd had a bottomless stomach, and Ranni, of course, had wanted some too.
The recipe had promised delicious chocolates in four to six hours; it had taken him three weeks to get ten pieces ready for Melina. That and a binding vow under the moon and stars that he’d be back before the week’s end to bake Ranni more sweet treats.
And it had all been worth it, just to see Melina’s beautiful smile.
“Dark chocolate… was always my favourite”, she said, taking one of the misshapen heart pieces and popping it into her mouth. Her good eye closed, and she savoured every slow, deliberate bite with a hum. By the time she’d finished, tears were rolling down her cheek. “Miquella and Malenia would hoard the sweeter chocolates for themselves, no matter how much I complained to mother. Godwyn always preferred the fruity ones: oranges, strawberries, raisins and nuts. Mohg and Morgott, well… they loved whatever sweets they could get their hands on. And Ranni, she… oh, my dear precious Tarnished, I-”
Melina smiled freely, even as she sobbed into her hand. “This is a gift beyond measure, my love. Not merely the chocolates, but the memories of old they harken. I thought them lost forever, like everything I loved.”
The Tarnished went to comfort her, but she preempted him, crashing her lips into his. Their teeth clacked together, and her sheer passion drove him to the ground, her fingers digging into his hair, her chest pressed to his. And he tasted all of her. Indulged in her, as she indulged in him. The salt of her tears upon their lips. The taste of dark chocolate, rich and nutty, lingering on her tongue as she slipped into his mouth, deepening their kiss. His hands found purchase, one combing through her hair, the other gripping her waist, and he matched her needy, ravenous pace with his own.
Minutes bled away, and when finally they resurfaced, Melina lay atop him, breathless and flushed, her lips swollen. He’d fared no better, dizzy to the world around him, his heart thundering in his chest.
“My Tarnished, I’ve thought of a gift for you.” Melina giggled, pressing her forehead to his. “Share them with me. Taste them on my lips, my tongue.”
She popped another chocolate heart into her mouth, savouring the taste. White; not his favourite-- a tad too sweet-- but he knew he wouldn’t be focusing on the taste for long. Keeping up with his lovely maiden was difficult enough.
Melina dipped down, her lips brushing against his, ever so tantalisingly out of reach. “Happy Devotion Day, my love", she whispered, nipping at his bottom lip. "Let us cherish this union ‘til our last days.”
And as she dragged him into another hungry kiss, her fingers clinging to him as though he might vanish at any moment, the Tarnished prayed they’d share many more Devotion Days to come. As Finger Maiden and Tarnished. As unlikely lovers, from royal blood and common. And one day, once they’d set the world right, as husband and wife.
Yes, he desired it so. More than the title of Elden Lord, more than all the shards of the Elden Ring put together. More than anything Marika could offer.
A humble accord, born of devotion.