Chapter Text
The first time when Malenia had woken from her long slumber, she had felt it. The presence of another being entering her resting place, uninvited and intrusive. But when she moved upon her chair, felt the ground beneath her metallic feet once more and the unfamiliar being entered her sight-
-she saw the figure of a Tarnished, almost able to hear the beating of his heart against his chest as he stood on the opposite side of her small, wooden throne; his hand holding tight upon the handle of his blade, like a beacon of courage, to keep him from falling apart, even though it was trembling ever so slightly.
However, even when she had risen from her throne to full height and applied her prosthetic arm to wield her own curved blade, it was not truly fear that she witnessed in his eyes. At least not only. It was something soft, something that did not match with what she would have expected from one who would come to challenge her for her great rune. For there was no other reason she could think of why he would come here otherwise.
It struck her the longer she regarded him, the sense of familiarity. It grew stronger when she first crossed blades with this Tarnished, giving her a feel and a first impression of his strength. He concentrated strongly on trying to evade her blows, so much so that, even when she held back and circled him, giving him an opportunity to gain more ground, he did not do so.
Thus, the fight was over much quicker than she anticipated, for even though he tried his hardest, he could not withstand her serial flurries of strikes forever.
It was only when she approached him as he lay defenselessly on the ground, her metallic feet stepping through the puddle of water, splashing with each and every step, that she slowly came to know what he reminded her of.
He had tried his hardest in their fight, but still, there was such a stark contrast between the gentle softness, nay, near enough innocence in his eyes, and the fact that he was still holding a blade in his hands, most certainly having tasted blood on more than enough occasions to even reach her at this place.
That innocence, molded with the fact that, deep within, he was no doubt hiding far more than that… it reminded her of her dearest brother, Miquella. Cursed for eternal childhood on the outside, but as wise as a god deep within.
However, she knew not what was dwelling within the mind of this peculiar Tarnished.
For still deciding to come to this place, to most certainly fight his way through the entirety of Elphael.
And so, when he barely managed to raise his head as he still lay on the ground in defeat, she pointed the tip of her curved blade against his face, both ends merely separated by an inch. And she demanded an answer from him.
But alas, she did not receive it when the last light from his vision faded entirely in that moment, his head succumbing to the watery ground with the knowledge that he would meet his end in this place.
Leaving Malenia to stand in place, her lips parting ever so slightly as her blade lowered. What exactly prompted her to do so, she did not know.
For the final blow… never came.
It was with a small groan of pain when the Tarnished awoke the next time, revealing to him the first surprise there was. The fact that he awoke at all.
He could feel the hard texture of wood against his back, which had been placed against one of the large roots of the Haligtree so that he was now leaning against it.
But it was the soft, yet strong voice suddenly addressing him which immediately tore him out of his previous stupor.
"How are you feeling?" it was a simple question, yet, it was laced with genuine concern. Even though it was subtle. But it was more than enough for the Tarnished to stare at the source of the voice with more than just mere bewilderment. It was pure and utter disbelief upon witnessing that the one who had tended to him had also been the same enemy who he was sure would simply kill him after he passed out.
His throat was dry, and a stinging pain was coursing through his head, only adding to the general weakness he felt in his body. But still, his eyes were fixated upon the golden and winged helmet which was concealing the rotten eyes of its owner underneath.
"... why…?" it was the only word leaving his dry mouth, and ironically, it was one that Malenia had on her mind as well, even though with a different meaning. For she had still not received her answer.
"I could ask you the same. Why come here to this place? You wield a blade and doubtlessly possess the ambition to fight me, and still, your eyes alone betray your lack of true devotion to your goal. But still you risk your own life; so tell me, why?"
It was a story neither long nor glorious. Told in a single sentence. He held no devotion to his goal or his purpose, for it was one that was not truly his own, it was one enforced upon him by the Greater Will. Whether he would fail in it or not, it did not matter, for he had no other purpose, and nowhere he belonged. Such was the fate of this Tarnished.
But even when there was no other reasoning he could give, nothing else he could say, Malenia remained silent for a long time, quietly regarding him through her helmet.
Until, in the end, her voice gently sounded to him once more.
"Rest." she said nothing further, and neither did she once move from her wooden throne from where she was watching him, making him realize that she had placed him right beside it.
However, it was not long until his vision dimmed once more, the pain in his body not allowing him to move in any way whether he liked it or not.
And so, he drifted off into slumber once again.
Days. Weeks. The Tarnished did not know for how long, but still he had remained under the care of the demigod, up until his injuries had all but faded, his wounds mended. During this time, he had come to know the Goddess of Rot just a little bit more, who would more often than not tell him stories about herself or of her brother, Miquella. That she had been waiting for his return for many ages, up to this very day.
That she was, just like him, without another purpose in this world, empty inside with a body rotting away more and more each day, consuming her from within.
But still, in return, the Tarnished did not have any stories to tell, not much to reveal about himself. Malenia was divinity, the mightiest of all the Empyreans, or so it was told, and a demigod who has never known defeat. Something that he had more than witnessed first hand, considering that he should not be alive anymore.
Yet, he was still there, and it was during one of those times when Malenia would actually choose to sit beside the Tarnished, her metallic legs stretched and her prosthetic arm placed upon her lap, as if she had known them for far longer than those few days, that she managed to surprise him once more, just as she did time and time again. Never failing to show him a side of her that he could not have, or would not have dared to imagine before.
"You remind me of him…" the Tarnished would turn his head to look at her, only to see that she had already done so, even if her eyes were concealed.
"... Miquella, my dear brother… likeable to so many people, and rightfully so."
She witnessed how he could not hold her gaze, facing the ground instead. Prompting her lips to curve into a small smile, even if he did not see it yet.
"You must love your brother dearly, waiting for him for so long. But why do you compare me to a being like him? I am neither very skilled nor could I have hoped to match your prowess."
Her smile grew ever so slightly. It was exactly what she had meant and envisioned. It was not strength or prowess that made her see him the way she did. It was something about them that she simply wanted to protect, to hold and keep . She was not delusional about these thoughts within her mind, and what they wanted her to do.
"Neither was he, physically being cursed into eternal childhood. And still I would always view him as the most powerful of us Empyreans, for his strength lies somewhere else."
And so, even when he still refused to face her, she could feel the slight tremor coursing through his body when she had reached out her left and actual hand to touch his cheek, her fingers elegantly holding his jaw to shift his eyes back towards her. Just as she slid off her winged helmet from her face, her fiery red hair falling over part of the rot where her eyes would be.
"Just as I think that your strength might lie somewhere else as well… if only you found the right purpose."
Her long, prosthetic arm reached around his waist, and with little to no resistance, she brought the Tarnished closer against her, holding his form against herself as she brought his head to rest upon her lap instead.
His form was tense, shock evident in his eyes, but even so, when he did not resist, she let her left hand wander along his face, gently stroking his skin and neck with the tips of her own fingers. "Let me hold you, just like this…" her voice was a husky whisper, and she leaned closer just when she heard a gasp from his lips.
"Good… stay, and bask in my presence …"
How long was it since she had last felt a sense of purpose herself? She had dreamt for so long… and now, this Tarnished had wormed himself into her mind, filling her thoughts even now.
And she found that, even with his wounds now mended, she did not want to let him go anymore.