Chapter Text
“T-there’s a giant s-snake under the rooftop!”
The servant girls squeaked. They were shaking like leaves in the wind. Fire Knight Elrieh sighed. Last time they reacted the same way to bats. So, Fire Knight Elrieh simply concluded: the girls were exaggerating. Surely, it was just a stray grass snake that somehow was lost in the Specimen Storehouse. But for their (and the poor reptile’s) sake, he nodded and reached the lift.
There was a little light. The lantern lay near, broken. But that’s alright — he had his own flames, a gift from their commander. At first, he looked around and saw, as he expected, nothing. Even the bats were quiet.
Darkness covered everything. But he slowly adapted and could distinguish more and more silhouettes. Then darkness stared at him back.
“...”
One of the girls put her hand on her chest, the other gasped — the lift descended. Inside was the knight, alive. They asked if they were right — he didn’t react. Fire Knight Elrieh didn’t move until the girls brought something for him to drink. They grimaced, pulling their noses away when the bottle was uncorked, but the knight greedily started to gulp the drink as if his tongue had not touched any liquid for days.
“Yes,” he looked through them, taking another sip from the bottle, “a giant snake, indeed.”
_ _ _
You had noticed Messmer’s strange habit — he often sat unmovingly, deep in thought, and held his fingers near his eye; your surprise hug attack failed only because his snakes glanced at you and alarmed him about your presence.
“What troubles you, my love?” you asked, trying to find any clue that could explain his behavior. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to scratch his eye, but Messmer stopped himself in time.
“Worriest not,” the corners of his lips turned up, successfully melting your heart. How can anyone resist his charming smile? Definitely not you.
“Should we go somewhere else?” you proposed. “Liurnia, perhaps?”
Messmer was sitting in the castle with you for weeks. He wasn’t in a hurry to walk around Leyndell, but you couldn’t blame him: the Erdtree finally burned down not so long ago. Ashes covered the streets and the view of the golden city wasn’t as breathtaking as before. But everything will be clean again, presentable, as suited for the capital.
Was he in the city before? Messmer was hard to crack. He didn’t talk about his past, about his time near Marika, but if he visited the capital, if he lived here, — no wonder he didn’t want to see what happened to his former home, once upon a time bathed in rays of gold. Especially with the knowledge that it was you who caused it. All these ruins, all this destruction of a very symbol of his Mother’s rule — it was your fault.
“Thou’rt busy with thy duties,” he shook his head and was absolutely right. “We shalt travel another time.”
You groaned, burying your nose in the crook of his neck.
But problems don’t solve themselves. You were the Elden Lord of a world deeply broken, in dire need of a strong leader to unite people and give them hope for a better future. However, you, who spent days and nights with Messmer, couldn’t pretend everything was alright. His trouble tickled your mind most unpleasantly. The soreseal, you could swear. Something was amiss, and, as always, everything was tracked back to Marika.
This soreseal was new. He crushed his old one in a vain attempt to defeat you. You will never forget that gruesome moment of Messmer’s realization — his Mother abandoned him; Marika abandoned everyone, placing her Grace into you, a mere Tarnished. What unacceptable mockery it was!
Finding another soreseal for him wasn’t a problem — surprisingly, they were around. Did Marika know her son would need a replacement? Or did she, trying to hide his secret, make the soreseals common enough so no one could question their true purpose?
“What’s wrong with your eye, my dear?” you lowered your chin on his shoulder, playing with a string of his hair. It's better to ask him directly and stop dancing around. He frowned.
“It’s healing not as fast as I expected.”
You patted his head. But his words were a lie — it wasn’t healing at all. The discomfort never left him: he couldn’t even sleep. Sweat covered his forehead, he was pale, paler than ever. Messmer’s breathing was heavy and you rushed in front of him, disoriented, using several healing incantations at the same time.
“It’s not the only seal I have. We can replace it!”
The minor erdtree incantation soothed his pain, reminding him of times from his childhood when the Golden Order didn’t exist yet, and Marika was not the Queen Eternal, but just Marika — his Mother. Messmer groaned. His body continued rejecting Marika’s soreseal.
“Nay, this one is identical to what I had. It should work. It must work.”
But his insistence didn't matter. The agony haunted him — Messmer continued to endure. You, on the contrary, couldn't stand his suffering any longer, and just cupped his cheeks in your palms, gently whispering:
“Tell me.”
He mumbled under his breath as if admitting the problem was equivalent to torture: “I’m afraid once the serpent felt freedom, it cannot be chained again.”
Messmer’s words chilled your soul.
“The seal doesn’t work?” It was obvious to you, but you still asked.
“Not anymore, it isn’t enough.”
“Then we should think about other solutions.”
“There’s none. Mother tried everything.”
Messmer’s snakes curled around you. You wondered if this was your curse — to follow the fate Marika chose for you — to lose everyone you loved on the road. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You held his hand tightly.
“What will happen to you?” you said with your throat dry.
He hesitated to answer. Messmer leaned closer to you, inhaling your warmth, and slowly spoke:
“Dost thou remember our battle?” you nodded: it was hard to forget how two lords, bereft of light, clashed their weapons to prove the same, but yet different, point of view. “I embraced the power of the abyssal serpent,” he averted his gaze from you, ashamed. He was so desperate, that he was ready to surrender into oblivion. “This, I’m afraid, wilt happen soon, permanently,” your dearest prince uttered.
Your head, just like a beehive, was buzzing with the number of questions.
“Will the serpent consume you?”
Rykard’s wretched form flashed in your memories. The heat of the lava, torture chambers, countless bodies he devoured… No, it wasn't Praetor Rykard anymore — it was an abomination, created by the demigod's merging with the serpent. The ghosts of his soldiers begged you: kill that monster, free their master Rykard. Will history repeat itself?
“The serpent and I art the one being,” Messmer stated. “Though it hardly matters, the serpentine nature is always the same.”
A dead sea of silence dissolved your thoughts and you heard a click of a newborn realization.
Messmer seemed like himself during your fight. He wasn’t corrupted and changed by something else. Rykard decided to join the blasphemous serpent. He saw the power, the means to rebel against the Erdtree. But Messmer wasn’t Rykard. Messmer was born like this.
“Can it overpower your mind? Sense of self?”
He gave you a long look, as if he wanted more than anything that you understood his feelings without any words.
“Nay,” he shifted his attention to his companions, who continued examining you with emerald eyes. They conveyed to him all your emotions, the slightest change in your face. “But my appearance wilt finally match my purpose — a monster.”
It was sharper than any dagger, but you swallowed his words. Objection would start another disagreement. Messmer believed he was a monster. For centuries he played the role of a heartless and ruthless villain. For centuries he built his facade of pure tyranny. Everything was for Marika. But aren’t you, after all the blood you split, a monster of your own kind too?
Even Marika with all her power and wrath towards other gods failed to separate her son and the curse. She was afraid, she was terrified of the potential disarray that would follow. She is the perfect Goddess, so how the truth about her sin that Messmer carried could be known? It would shatter her image, it would kill people's belief in her sacred mission. She waged wars against everything disgraceful; her son is the very embodiment of unholiness. No wonder she sent him away as far as possible, to protect her position and Messmer’s life from the hatred she created in people’s minds.
But wouldn't freeing the abyssal serpent bring Messmer’s life back to what it was meant to be?
“And… you're not going to die, are you?”
“Nay,” he sighed. “I am not.”
He quietly waited for your answer, like a defendant waiting for a judge's verdict. He’ll understand completely your unwillingness to be in his presence or if you’ll immediately send him away. Messmer knew what it was — the end of your sweet addictive love. The joys of being near you will soon remain only in his memories. You did what no one has done before — you gave him a new purpose and showed him peace outside the cage of sorrow. But he was a fool to think his curse wouldn’t shatter his illusory paradise. After all, even his own Mother turned away from him–
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into your embrace. He could count your heartbeat.
“Phew, you certainly know how to deliver the news!” you giggled like a corrupted and infected with the Frenzied Flame madman, your eyes were full of tears. Blood circulating in your ears was too loud. “Got me here! I was one step away from a heart attack!” Messmer didn’t move nor reply. You hugged him tighter, choking with your own words. “Cannot say I wouldn’t miss your pretty face. And our bed definitely will be too small,” your sentences stopped being clear because of how fast you tried to speak. “But your physical appearance is just a small price compared to losing you completely! Isn’t your life the most important thing?!”
“What wilt thou do?” he murmured into your chest, and contrasting to your voice, his sounded dark as a graveyard. “Thou cannot just let me roam around.”
“What do you mean?” you blinked. “You'll have your freedom without a question, what else?”
“Thou art not serious, thou shalt be wary of the consequences!” he moved away from you.
“I know!”
“Then thou shalt act accordingly.”
“But it’s not like you will become the second Lord of Blasphemy!” you raised your voice. “What are you expecting me to say? That I solemnly swear to kill you the moment you’ll change your form?!”
“I'd rather die by your hand.”
Your face fell.
“Messmer…” your insides froze. How dare he say this? You needed a pause to concentrate and forget your anger. What tactic will you choose to break the wall between you two? “As the Elden Lord, I must take care of my people. But it seems you need a reminder — you are one of my people too. And it’s up to me to decide what to do. If I want to, I'll give the order to build a goddamn terrarium for you instead of this castle.”
“Thou dost not understand,” he concluded. You said the words he didn’t want to hear.
“Yes, I do not understand, Messmer,” you crossed your arms. “How long have you lived with these torments? For centuries? Thousands of years? Don't you want to be free? I think it's a perfect time to end this. Never mind what was best for Marika, she’s not here. Ignore what you think is best for me. Be selfish, be greedy, and choose yourself at least now! And if it means this — just be a snake then.”
He shook his head. To even think about it was pure heresy. The serpent, the very symbol of sin and blasphemy! It cannot be accepted so easily. You shouldn't accept it so easily.
“Let’s remove the seal now before it explodes inside your head. I will do it much more painlessly and carefully than you with your claws,” you looked at his nails, remembering one particular episode of your battle. “Come on! Don’t be afraid!” you sat back on the bed and patted your lap, encouraging him to lay his head. Messmer stepped back from you as if you were a cursed flame. You could read disbelief on his face, shock, and even disgust.
“Wouldst thou love me if I was a serpent, faithfully?”
“Of course,” you nodded. Why did he ask you something so obvious? Your heart belongs to him only: no golden shrimps with brainwashing powers could steal it. “I love you. You are already my sweetest jelly snake.” Tanith was happy; Tanith knew the truth but didn't stop to love Rykard.
“Thou…” He was too frustrated to speak, so he laughed, darkly, giving you a last glance. “With such a mindset, thou art a true jester,” and then he silently left the bedroom.
You looked at the closet door, praying that maybe it was an illusion and that this conversation would never happen. You hugged your knees. You are used to pain, but somehow his words made you hurt.
The sheets were especially cold that night. But at one moment, just before the dawn, you thought you felt Messmer’s presence. He ran his long fingers through your hair; he caressed your cheek tenderly. However, in the morning you woke up alone. Maybe, he didn’t return to you in the first place, your imagination created that fantasy.
And what an awful beginning for a day it was! No pretty princes in your proximity to hug you or give you kisses. Was life even worth it without daily cuddle sessions? You had no appetite to eat your breakfast. You spun the fork in your hand and looked at the empty chair beside you.
“He has no wish to join me?” you asked. The guard slightly bowed.
“Apologies, my Lord. We didn’t find Sir Messmer in the castle.”
You sighed, forcing yourself to swallow a few bites of your meal. But the problem is that you didn’t know where Messmer was hiding this time either.
The guards said the same in the evening: “No one saw Sir Messmer.”
You looked at the city from the balcony. You and Messmer planned to travel the Lands Between together, to show him how much everything had changed since his departure — his accepted banishment — to the Lands of Shadow. You wanted to be near when the sadness would infect his soul to whisper: everything changes, but it’s still the same.
Maybe, he decided to go on the journey without you. Yes, you held onto this thought, nervously discarding the others. Were you upset because of his absence? No, not in the slightest, you only counted the seconds of your separation and asked the guards every hour if your dearest prince had returned.
After several days of uncertainty, you sent letters to Nepheli in Limgrave and Rya in Volcano Manor, not asking directly about Messmer, but informing them about his potential visit. Oh, Rya was so excited to meet her uncle! But he never arrived at their places.
“Stupid snake boys!” You tore into pieces another demand of the nobles. “And their stupid pretty faces!” You crumpled up the next useless document. Sick from worry, you drank your tea and saw a message from the Shadow Keep. One of the servants wrote you a standard report. You opened the scroll, quickly scanning the message with your eyes. Then you choked on your drink.
“A giant what?!”