Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

She had known to expect him… but even still, tis hard to watch him cut down the ghosts of her champions. Sorcerer Rogier, Lionel the Lionhearted, and all the rest. They were her boon companions, once upon a time. They, all of them… she carried them with her always. And yet, Fia the Deathbed Companion lived, while they did not.
 
Was that fair? She truly did not know. Fairness, righteousness, justice… the world honestly seemed to be in such short supply of all of these things. And now… the Tarnished with the singularly impressive amount of vigor had come for her. As he approaches where she sits in front of her Lord’s corpse, Fia puts on a brave face, even a faint smile in the face of what might very well be her death.
 
“Ah… there you are. I knew you would come.”
 
Tilting her head to the side, she looks at the Tarnished, peering at him closely. He gave good hugs, but that meant nothing now. Are they to be enemies?
 
“What is it you intend? To deny us, and our ways? Like the rest of the dogmatic brutes of the Golden Order?”
 
To her surprise, the Tarnished shakes his head and sheathes his weapon. Her lips part, as he steps forward and descends to his knees. With arms stretched out, he hugs her, laying his head upon her bosom right then and there. Fia’s breath hitches, as she feels his vigor call to her. He is so very strong. It’s always been enough to take her breath away. This Tarnished, for all that he is so full of Life, astounds her even now.
 
“You are… an odd one, aren’t you?”
 
He nuzzles her. She tries to ignore how good it feels, though a steady heat builds across her face.
 
“I-I am the guardian of Those Who Live in Death.”
 
She lets out a shuddering breath.
 
“They call me a foul and rotten witch. Yet… you still wish to be held by me?”
 
He nods, which of course means more rubbing into her bosom. Is he doing it on purpose? Given what she knows of the other women at Roundtable Hold and their activities with this Tarnished… yes, he probably is. A lecher to be sure, but also a brave and surprisingly honorable man. Fia’s lips curl into a fond smile, and she rests a hand upon the back of his head. And sure, she sups a little bit on his vigor as they embrace… but is that truly so terrible? He has so much of it and has offered it freely to her.
 
… Is it possible that she was hasty to think him an enemy, or at least not an ally? Is it possible that she misjudged him entirely? Truthfully, she had come here because she was sure it was over. After being found out by that hunter in Roundtable Hold, Fia had known her time was limited.
 
She had thought she’d failed, and that her mission was done. Indeed, she’d come here to wait for the hunters to catch up, anticipating one final battle where she used the power of this place to give as good as she got. It was her duty to defend her Lord with all she had left in her, after all.
 
… And then he’d shown up and torn through her Champions in moments. So much for a good showing and one last stand. Still… still. Voice turning somewhat breathless, Fia leans in close and whispers into the Tarnished’s ear.
 
“Have you… have you ever seen a hallowbrand? When the first of the demigods died, his flesh was marked with the half-wheel wound of the centipede. Godwyn’s hallowbrand has long since been recovered at the Roundtable hold… but there is another hallowbrand out there, somewhere.”
 
Leaning back, Fia makes sure she can gaze down into the Tarnished’s eyes, watching as he in turn tilts his head back and stares up at her silently, unquestioningly.
 
“I must find it, before the time comes that I can receive our Lord.”
 
If he could retrieve it for her. If his loyalty extended that far then… Fia blinks, as the Tarnished in turn leans back and reaches into his pack. She watches as he takes out something wrapped in a cloth, and slowly unravels said cloth to reveal what it is. She stares down at the Cursemark of Death she spoke of with what is probably quite the silly face, her eyes wide as saucers and her lips parted in a decent expression of fish-like surprise.
 
“This… is the other hallowbrand. How did you…”
 
How long had she hunted? No, rather… this was Sorcerer Rogier’s doing, wasn’t it? Before his death, he had uncovered something. He’d asked the Tarnished for help. And she hadn’t even… she’d assumed the man before her to be Rogier’s patsy in that matter, no more and no less. She’d assumed she knew the extent of his help, but even in Rogier’s eternal slumber and her flight from Roundtable Hold, he’d gone on to…
 
When the Tarnished holds the Cursemark of Death out to her, Fia lets out a choked little laugh.
 
“Oh… you have my utmost thanks, Tarnished. With this, Godwyn can take his rightful place as First of the Dead. With this, he can claim a second, illustrious life. You are my… OUR true champion.”
 
She hesitates, knowing what would have to happen next. Was it any wonder then, that she made the offer she did?
 
“… Though I can’t be of any use to you, can I hold you tight, if only for a moment?”
 
He nods solemnly and lets her hold him even further. And when Fia tilts his head back, resting her hands on his cheeks, and kisses him… the Tarnished kisses her back. She had barely dared to hope but couldn’t stop herself from taking the opportunity. And with that first kiss… they quickly escalate to more. The ledge she’s sat on becomes their bed, as she finds herself divested of her dress, and then her smallclothes, her undergarments removed, and her pale body made nude.
 
She spreads her legs, blushing as the Tarnished’s member is freed from its confines and comes to rest upon her sex. As a Deathbed Companion, this is not new territory. Many had likened her work to that of a whore, or a prostitute. Fia paid them no mind. She was more than the small-minded opinions of those who would persecute Those Who Live in Death.
 
The Tarnished splits her open upon his shaft, filling her with his mast. In that moment, Fia cries out, feeling it in a way she never has before. Indeed, his size is something to be commended… bigger than any man she’s laid with before him. But… there’s something else, as well. As the Tarnished begins to thrust, his hand comes down on her hand… specifically, on the hand holding one half of the Cursemark of Death.
 
Her other hand, without her even realizing it, has pulled out HER half of the Cursemark of Death. The first hallowbrand, the one carved into Godwyn’s flesh that she had taken from Roundtable Hold before her flight. His other hand comes down on that too, and as he fills her to the brim, as he penetrates to her core, Fia gasps, realizing his intentions far too late.
 
“N-No! You… you mustn’t! Tis not your place to die here, Brave Tarnished! Yours is a greater purpose!”
 
He doesn’t listen to her, of course. She wishes she could say she struggled to escape his grasp… but the feeling of finally having him inside of her was just too good. Even still, he risked ruining everything. Did he not understand what he was doing?!
 
Fia, Deathbed Companion, had but one purpose left to her. After all she’d done, after everything she’d condoned to get to this point, she was ready. Godwyn, Prince of Death, lay behind her. A hulking being, and yet… his mere presence was enough to do what she needed to do. Soulless, he was nevertheless her Lord, and she served him and all Those Who Lived in Death to the best of her ability.
 
After sending the Tarnished away, she would have brought the two hallowbrands together, the Cursemarks of Death joined in union after all this time. Under the watchful eye of her Lord, she would have fed all the vigor and life that she’d collected in her time as a Deathbed Companion into a new rune. It would have stirred within her… and to be a bit poetic about it, she and her Lord together might have given birth to new life, a Great Rune of Those Who Live in Death.
 
Something to be added to the shattered Elden Ring. Something to change the paradigm for all time. Something to finally disrupt the dogmatic and crushing control exercised by the Golden Order and their brutish enforcers. It would have been glorious. It would have been sublime.
 
It would also have resulted in her death. Fia was no fool. That hunter showing up in Roundtable Hold had disrupted her plans most severely. Killing him had been satisfying, but in the end, it had still resulted in her having to flee. Hunted, she could no longer collect the vigor of the Tarnished who called Roundtable Hold their home. No matter how… rough or violent some of them could be (for not all were just in it for the hugs like THIS Tarnished had been), their unwitting contributions to her cause had been important.
 
Coming here, to this place… she knew she had not collected enough. But it hadn’t really mattered, given she lacked the second hallowbrand. And then this Tarnished had arrived and brought with him her Lord’s salvation. But… not her own. For she still needed the vigor necessary to complete the rune, and what she had not managed to gather, would instead have to come from herself. It would have been enough, but she would almost certainly have perished in the process.
 
And that would have been fine. Now though, now Fia fears this Tarnished has doomed himself along with her. As he spears into her core time and time again, making her cry out in an ugly manner before the corpse of the Prince of Death, his grip on her hands, and the Cursemarks held in between their palms, tightens up.
 
She can feel it. Him giving of himself. Her eyes are shut for a moment, as she cries out and arches her back… then, they shoot wide open, staring up at him in wonder. She’d thought she understood how much vigor he had before, when they were just hugging. Only now… only now does she realize, she had eyes, but could not recognize the mountain in front of her.
 
Through their hugs, she had only discerned the barest hint of the incline, to stretch the metaphor. Only now, with him buried inside of her and stretching her out in a most satisfying way as her pale bosom bounces and shivers with every thrust, does Fia realize that the man before her is no man… but something else entirely. And he has already decided how this is going to end.
 
As his essence spills inside of her, Fia tips over the edge as well. There’s just no helping it. She’s been teetering for quite some time, and unlike with so many men before him where she had to finish herself off afterwards, he’s… he’s just too much. It’s overwhelming, but even in the throes of ecstasy, even beset by pleasure as she is, the Deathbed Companion can feel it as he gives of his vigor and Life to the Cursemarks of Death.
 
Hastily, she does the same, releasing all of her stored up vigor into them as well. Slowly, their hands end up drawn together between their bodies, against their will. The draining feeling is enough to make Fia feel nauseous, and she’s not even having to use her own life force for all of this. No, rather, the Tarnished gives of himself, and sacrifices as much as she needs to complete her Lord’s work.
 
The end result? His skin is pale and clammy, his face drawn and worn. He looks, for the first time since she’s met him, actually wounded, exhausted, and tired. As full of energy as the Tarnished is, even he has his mortal limits, it seems. And yet… they have not reached them, not even here. What would have outright killed her, has only taxed his vigor. And… it is done.
 
When he lets go of her hands, Fia looks down and opens them slowly, to reveal what the two of them have created together in this moment of intense intimacy. The Mending Rune of the Death-Prince, formed of the two hallowbrand half-wheels combined, sits before her. A brand new Great Rune, one that will finally give Those Who Live in Death a fighting chance. More than that… the Golden Order had been created by confining Destined Death.
 
If this rune was added to the Elden Ring upon its reformation, then the new Order would be one where Death was restored. Where people would have a choice, rather than to continue to go on living forever and ever in eternal suffering.
 
Its beautiful, and Fia lets out a choked sob as she stares down at it lovingly for a moment. She and her Tarnished had created this together. It was as much his child as it was hers. And… she liked to think she felt the Prince of Death’s gaze upon them now, filled with approval and satisfaction. Regardless, Fia gives herself but a moment to admire what they’ve created together, before gently pushing the Mending Rune into her lover’s hands.
 
“Take it. Our child must go with you.”
 
He nods solemnly in understanding, taking the Mending Rune from her. It seems like he understands, but just in case…
 
“Brandish our rune and take for yourself the throne. Stay the persecution of Those Who Live in Death, by becoming our Elden Lord.”
 
As exhausted and drained as he looks, even now he has this quiet certainty and confidence to him that leaves Fia speechless as he nods a second time, looking solemn but also determined. His resolve is as unshakeable as his health, that much is certain. Slowly standing up, he turns and begins to walk away, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other above all else. She watches him go, only letting herself really react once he’s out of sight.
 
Letting out a shaky breath of her own, not nearly as unflappable as her lover, Fia looks around for a moment before letting out a small laugh. She’s still naked, still laying on her dress. Did that… did that really just happen? And… she and the Tarnished had made the Mending Rune together, that was true… but he’d also laid his seed inside of her. A hand goes to her abdomen, as his sticky essence trickles down from betwixt her thighs.
 
She hadn’t thought she would live to see tomorrow. And now? Now… she will have to leave this place. Her duty to her Lord complete, she must find her own way forward. Where will she go? She is undoubtedly still barred from Roundtable Hold… but she is loath to leave the Lands Between and her lover behind. Indeed, she must stay close… there might just be an opportunity to join with him again, down the line…
 
… Only as she’s reaching for her clothes to put them back on, does the Deathbed Companion realize… her lover made off with her underwear. In the end, she is forced to dawn her dress and nothing else, both her sex and her bosom exposed to the stagnant air of the chamber, drifting under her clothes. A blush spreads across Fia’s face, as she begins making her way out of Deeproot Depths, and back to the world above.
 
… That damn lecher of a Tarnished…

-x-X-x-

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