Ranni
She sat upon a wall, watching the feeble kin of hers as he wallowed over the corpse of a dragon in the courtyard leading to his throne. A truly wretched thing this foul contaminent of divinity had become. Hobbled and half addled in the mind, blinding in his arrogance, and decrepit in it's awful form. Yet it was also everything the divine was. A robbing of flesh and power from the masses. Beings who see mortals as ants to be stepped upon or directed as simply as a stream.
She was disguised as a small doll, too small for even eagle eyes to spot among the countless gnarled roots and plants. It was important that she saw these great events play out herself. Things were truly changing here in the lands between, and she was growing eager to find out just where this road was leading. She could taste the change approaching, and every night, the stars now gleamed with the possibilities rolling by. Every day, she could feel a new ripple in the tidesnkf change.
She had little doubt in the duo being able to slay the weak Godrick. He would barely give them pause after their sundering of Radahn, so feeble bh comparison he was. A shadow of that greatness he so sycophantically worshipped in many ways. They had not felled the general alone, but Radahn was the greatest of her kin.
Not that I will not enjoy the slaughter.
This whole affair, though, had her very curious about this knight. She had noticed the change in the sites of grace, as well as the way in which this knight's manner of speaking seemed almost fluid. Sometimes, it matched those of this place. More often, it sounded foreign, and not even a single kind of foreign. There were moments it felt like more than one voice was coming out at different times. Marika had begun to match the tone most commonly heard, perhaps due to a familiarty they shared. Perhaps the knight held more within than just a fervor for battle.
It all seemed so foreign, still. It left her with countless questions that felt like there would not be satisfaction for quite some time. She was almost excited by the idea. The ever growing chances for knew strands to pluck, new ways to stem the tide, and ensure her schemes stayed well laid.
Almost, were it not for the danger looming in that uncertainty.
Marika
Both sat around the simple grace, trying to collect themselves. It had been a blood bath when they had come into the courtyard. Knights, guards, even an omen with a hound at his side. Marika had not relented until every last one was practically a smear against the wall, and her fists still ached horribly from hitting through metal and flesh to stone.
None had stood a chance against them, and the queen had been fueled by a traumatic rage. She had let it run through her far hotter than she had realized, but she could not find the stomach for remorse. These people had let this happen. All those bodies. All those children. The woman whose face seemed frozen in pain at the front. It all had done something heinous and violent to her thoughts that when she came onto the courtyard, it had been a massacre of incantation driven lights and vicious beatings with her bare fists until there had been nothing but pulp left where once a chest had been.
She should have felt guilty. She should have felt remorseful, but everytime she tried to summon that feeling, her stomach flipped, and she saw the dead face of another child hanging on a hook, or the half melted face of a kother flailing within that abomination. She felt so hot, and unbelievably hungry, but not for food. Her arms flexed frighteningly like coiled springs, waiting to buck again against flesh. Her head kept fighting for qays to hurt, for new thoughts of how to inflict pain. It was a sensation that frightened her deep in her core, and her knight seemed to know that. She had insisted once they brought down the troll that they sat and breathed at this grace. The terrible root of all this suffering, in Stormveil, lay just beyond the next gate. They slay him and bring an end to the madness here. This.... grafting.
How could we ever have let this happen...
It did not change the choked thrum of pain in her chest at the thought of the boy she once watched fawn over the littlest of trees being put down like a rabbid animal, but it made the pain livable. If only a little.
"Hey.." The knight spoke out first, "It's alright." Placing her hand gently over the golden queen's as she looked up. Soft locks of golden hair spilled along her cheek as her hood lay along her back, eyes drifting to the knight's hand before returning to her own eyes as they fell on Marika's.
Luna smiled to companion, a soft and comforting smile. Those eyes seemed to hum with a coolness that brought comfort when looked at so fixatedly as she had begun to. Like a pillow that was always cool. She felt her own eyes threaten to moisten.
"B-but..." In a moment of weakness, she started to weep. Her face began to sting, but she couldn't stop it. "The-there were so... There are so many up there..." a hand covering her mouth as the tears began to trickle as far as her chin. Her jaw trembled through every breath, and her chest pounded painfully at the image of so many living through her greatest agony. "I.. I know I have..." a choked sob, "so little room to speak..." Her mind wandering to her own litany of corpses, worthy of countries.
Yet, a comforting hand moved to wrap over her back and grasp her by the shoulder. It held her with a soft touch that cut through her caution like glass. Luna lightly pulled her against her savior's chest and let her hide those tears from almost the whole world in the safety of the gilded scarf around her own chest and neck. She clung to her, sobbing and shaking as the weight of it all truly crashed down on her again. Every bone in her ached, and the exhaustion hit as the last bastion of her anger fell to pieces in the flood of pain that washed over her.
It was not just the children and the people on those walls nor the grafted abomination of innocents, but that deep inside this had all been her fault. She had been no better, and why would she ever expect her children to be more merciful than she had been. To be less hasty, less rushed, less arrogant in their pursuits of power. Yet, to see them walk down such a horrible path, no matter she had once been put upon it kicking and screaming made her truly sick. Sick in the deepest pit of her that made her want nothing more than to fade, to simply disappear. To fall back into that urn and let Him just consume her in the fires of her pain.
Yet the knight anchored her. Her gentle arms her close and let her tears flow onto the fabric she had begun to so sweetly treasure. Pale fingers clutched golden cloth as the two warmths pressed closer, clung for comfort in this darkest of places where only the most vile secrets would find sanctuary outside the security of the grace's glow. This feeling made her feel that hope still lingered, and she clung to it like a candle to the last vapors of wax. She ached, yet she would not succumb. Not today.
Deep down, she hoped this kind of embrace would never have to end. It was a kind of comfort she had forgotten existed. Calm, warm, and safe. The way her hand lightly stroked her hair, soft and careful of the lingering knots. Her hold tender, soothing the aches that rippled through her back with the softest touches of her palm. No expectations or arguments. No lingering doubt of what this would cost her later, or what she would have to do to earn it again. Just the company of one who cared enough to let her be weak, without judgement.
After a couple of moments, or perhaps it had been hours, their embrace finally separated. "I... I apologize." She started.
"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for right now." Her hand lifted softly from her back.
"But I -" a soft hand on her shoulder interrupted her, moving slowly to lightly hold her cheek. She felt herself lean into its warm touch, not fearing anything undo for once.
"I said. Don't." Her tone was soft, yet held no doubt that was the last word as she would rise again.
When the gilded queen gave a gentle nod, Luna rose. Marika followed suit, standing soon after with a hand from her knight and steeling her resolve as her hands dabbed away the looming tears and tracks. It hurt, and yet this feeling, to feel at all, had been the single greatest gift of this new life. One she would try never to again take for granted.
They turned the corner and made their way down the short, spacious hallway that led to the vast courtyard garden where they knew the demigod was. Just past the large arch was a large open space with a downward hill from their entrance of broken stairs that bottomed to a messy garden littered as much with weapons and body parts as it was flowers and gravestones. The air stung with a haunting, grim sickness. Flies buzzed about greedily in the air. In the center, fawning over the head of a dead dragon, was the master of this horrible place.
A feeble, frail face that wore a simple golden headband atop a veritable mountain of corpses. Sewn and stitched together like so many knotted threads of yarn in a horrible, rotten mound of flesh that nearly doubled the horridness of the first grafted beast. With his pale, almost bloodlessly dead skin as gray as ash and horribly warped face that had grown far too mismatched with who knew how many alterations, it was more than enough to make the golden queen want to vomit in pure disgust, if not swing in raw violence with the small mace she had found.
Yet it was still, mutated and warped as it was, the face of the boy she had once watched marvel over countless lessons about seeds, and who's eyes once lit up at the first bloom of springtime in the capital. It was like seeing all she had once wished to inspire, being laid bare and rotted by the very crimes of her past. I told you. This was all. Our. Fault.
She did not fainted nor screamed. Instead, she turned that disgust into fury, turned her self hatred to righteous anger. She would let herself drown in that wrath for just a little while to undo what she had made, but she would not fall to it.
You can't! He barked angrily. This was my order!
She resolutely marched onto the first step as the incantation finished, bolstering them both with the light blue glow. No. Was all the answer he received as her mace began to glow with a sacred light, held in front of her with a look of pure anger.
The knight stepped out alongside her, hand on her parrying dagger while the other gripped the hilt of her moonlit blade. Her armor lightly clinked as the wind blew by, and the demigod slowly turned towards them as the sound alerted him.
"... Well," he started as his massive body began to turn towards them, "Ye not be Tarnished... yet trespassers no less in my walls. Ye shall make fine parts for grafting, None thee less." As even more limbs emerged from his ragged appearance from beneath the green and golden cloth that was worn over his hideous form. A great, gilded axe that seemed a pale mimicry of the once great Godfrey's was held in the fore most limbs, while another axe was held just behind in another pair of limbs that seemed to almost be anchored to the first set of arms by an awkwardly broken and resewn stretch of muscle and bone.
The queen stared at the creature, pushing down the memories as he slowly slammed the first axe. "I am lord of all that is Golden! I command thee, Kneel!" Before his axe cracked the few stone foot steps beneath his many legs.
In a flash, the knight was dashing down hilly stairwell as Marika began to incant again. The titanous creature responded with laughter, before rolling its massive form along the ground and swinging up with both axes in a staggered strike that missed the knight while she slid to the side and delivered a quick slice that splashed blood across the cloaked demigod. It dug a small wound that confirmed his mortality with a quickly weeping slice alongl one side.
"Foolish weakling!" Laughing in response as the monstrous thing pulled back briefly, swirling both axes overhead as a tornado of wind swirled once, twice, then again as he stomped down and threw the small space around them in a much larger gust of wind, which caught and hurled away the knight. The demigod was likely to follow up, only for Marika to finish and launch a single bolt of lightning that bit into the face and burned the flesh of the demigod. He reeled briefly, stunned more than truly wounded.
"Insolent little wretch!" He cried, one hand touching his face as he briefly flailed every limb about to ward back the knight. A pair of knives found home between the swirling whirlwind of weapons and limbs, making the demigod buckle back. Son after an arrow, charged with force now, hammered its way right into his neck and dislodged his bearings.
He fumbled, his entire weight collapsing back briefly as his ability to stand cracked. Rapid attacks had clearly dazed the demigod, and the knight took quick advantage as she drew her blade and drove it deep into the heart of his body, making the blade pulse with moonlight before ripping it out to the side in a massive spray of viscera and blood.
"AHHHH!!!" The false golden idol roared, flailing again and catching the knight with the greater of his axes. The blade caught her in the shoulder and bit into her right arm before sending her flying into a nearby gravestone. "Such impudent little worms!" He turned, hurling a small cyclone at Marika as she gasped and dove to the side like her knight had trained her to do. She barely avoided the shredding winds as they ripped rock and dirt asunder where she had stood, making her sweat slightly.
Marika rose back up, hood falling down behind her as she gripped to her mace and began to run with a furious roar, her throat straining with the effort. Her mace rang, beginning to radiate with her holy will as she crossed the gap, just in time for the demigod to nearly right himself. Her mace struck against the side of him, only for a random limb to slammed against her and knocked her back. She grunted angrily, yet smirked just as a splash of blood tore out of the demigod's other side. The monster wailed in pain, uet he found his footing none the less.
"You first!" He barked, turning and swinging angrily with both axes at the quickly ducking queen before Marika's retaliatory two handed swing hit and shattered three of the legs supporting him like a great hammer smashing through blocks of timber. His wail was so loud that it briefly stunned her, gripping her head as the force shoved both combatants far away. The ground itself trembled where they had stood as he reared back, hands together on the greater of the axes. Marika looked up just in time to see her knight attempting another charge. It was too late to warn her of what he was going to do.
He slammed down his feet and axe simultaneously, splitting up the stonework and dirt like a wave of rock and bursting explosives beneath the earth. The knight simlly jumped. A well-timed leap that avoided the crashing wave of stone, much to the demigod's shock. That shock turned to pain and desperation, as the moonlit blade tore across his face and body with an arc of blue light that drove him back against the dragon he had once been left to adore.
"W-what is this foul trickery..." his voice had become pathetic and sobbing, "Why do you harm one so pure..." he cried, clutching his bleeding face as the other hands raised his axe. "You truly are so cruel... but I will not fall for these tricks!" With a screaming roar, he brought down his own axe and completely severed his secondary left arm, much to the shock of the two challengers.
"The grace of draconic flesh... shall surely offer me the power I so require." Marika watched in utter horror as one she once called kin rammed the bleeding stump into the neck of the dead dragon. It writhed and squirmed into its flesh, seemingly fusing skin and muscle as naturally as molding clay before raising up the monstrous head as it ripped free of its former body and sprayed fire into the sky as he laughed in victoruous confidence. The face looked... afraid, or maybe even tortured. "Now let thee weep, and despair before the Lord of all that is Golden, and burn!!" As that head turned limb slowly descended and bathed the battlefield in surging orange flames. It was accentuated by his insane and mocking laughter while the flames seared through gravestones and flowers with equal efficiency.
Marika ran, quickly trying to outpace the flames as she yanked a pot out of her cloak. Biting off the lid, she hurled it into the rushing fire behind her as the odd bottle substance splashed oil right onto the mouth of the dragon head, which then exploded and blinded the briefly burning Godrick. It wouldn't truly harm him with dragonblood now in his veins, but he could still be disoriented.
She heard a following wail as more blood splatter arced across a nearby flowerbed, her knight striking another painful blow. This turned his attention to her in a sweeping strike of metal and flames as the demigod angrily retaliated. She rushed forward at the opportunity, gripping tight to her mace as she roared. Bright light poured through metal before the queen swung with all her might. She could feel the muscles in her back and chest flex as they once more held the sturdy shape that had graced the lands ages last. The strength of a true goddess returning, spec by spec, muscle by muscle. Her mace struck at the bottom of him, and she heard the awful sound of rupturing organs as holy light bloomed briefly out of the top of his back.
He began to crumple, losing his balance once again and landing in a dust throwing lump on the ground. She stared down as the rage began to overtake her, the bitter hatred. Visions of each child on a jook overtook laughter and flowers. Crimson stained every smile he ever had in her mind as the grip onnher mace turned white knuckled. This abomination had dared to perform such a terribly evil craft in my name, in the name of her Golden Order. It was a mockery of all she had once held dear, no matter what it had become. An effigy to all her worst failings.
She lost her temper, screaming furiously as one blow struck his back part to the sound of countless cracking spines before pulling back with both hands and a firm grip. She smashed the mace once more into his back, even more aggressively the second time. His body shuddered as countless body parts, bones, and organs shattered within that writhing mass of flesh and spat out blood as she heard the clattering of axes to the stonework path.
"This... can not... be..." he coughed out, blood rapidly spilling from his mouth as the magic that held this monstrosity of a body began to unwind and unfold. She stared, watching and hearing the cries of countless bond souls at last return to gold. Endless limbs and flesh faded to golden dust as only the frail torso belonging to this weak and feeble mockery to kingship laid left behind. "It... isn't fair..." Her blood boiled worse.
"It isn't fair?!" She screamed, marching over to the cowardly, shriveled up husk of a man she had dared to once call kin. "The failure of a weak and pathetic man?!" She barked over him as weak eyes finally landed on her face, unshrouded by her hood now.
"My... goddess... you... came back... to us..." his voice was cracked and painful, yet brimming with faith she had never even considered. It ripped her rage apart, digging into her heart as the two began a war with no victor. It was a shakey voice, that of a pained and dying man. "Was... I... radiant... enough.." as she realized his dying mind had lost any semblence of who they were, or even who had struck him down. His spirit was so very tired now, marred by countless graftings and centuries of fear. And we did this to him.
Fear. It had been what had ruled her entire life. Her very existence as mortal and as divine. The knight stepped close, prepared to end it before she quietly raised a hand and stepped forward herself. Her knight briefly quirked a brow, but when she garnered no further response, the knight took a step back.
Slowly replacing her mace, the goddess walked closer and knelt down beside the dying man. Her hands gingerly picked up the frail body that withered even as she held him like he was made of ash that threatened constantly to disperse. "That's right, Godrick. I am here.."
"M-mother.. mother, I f-feel so very cold.." his voice cracked to speak.
"I know..." she whispered shakoly, biting back bitterness and fury.
"I-i tried.. to make you proud... to shine..." her heart broke worse than his voice ever could.
"W... why..." She asked, shaking as she held her once-son.
The man's face weakly grimaced as a few nearly dried tears began. "Because... it was hard... yes... but... it was all for... for you.... o' goddess... I sought... to be.. golden..."
Marika's heart clenched in pain. The images would not go away. "The children..." she pleaded as walls filled by hooks rushed back.
"Such good stock they made. So full of.. potential.." as more blood burst from his cracked lips. An image of someone she wished to have forgotten cried to the front of her mind.
'SISTER!!!'
"You... you.." her hands and lip quivered, fury beginning to dominate her thoughts.
"All... for -" He was silenced for the last time as two hands gripped the back of his weak skull. The gilded queen, with terrible force, crushed the back of the skull and the base of the neck along the brain stem. His face frozen in that pleading, crying expression as she held the fading remains of Godrick the Grafted. Her agony could be heard as far as Liurnia, perhaps even further still, as the land grew red flowers for months to come.