Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hello, beloved reader! I’d like to offer my list of trigger warnings right off the bat, so you know what to expect. My story heavily discusses the following: abandonment, anxiety/anxiety attacks, attempted sexual assault, blood and gore, child abuse, depression, discussions of past sexual assault, drugging, emotional manipulation, forced body modification, infertility/sterility, narcissistic control, one open door sex scene, physical abuse, psychological trauma, religious trauma, self-destruction, self-harm, suicide/attempted suicide/suicidal ideation, and violence.

If any of these subjects become too intense for you, do not feel obligated to keep reading. I love each and every one of you, and I want you all to be happy, healthy, and safe. Even while reading fanfiction. <3

To quote the lovely Astarion, “You are not alone in this—none of us are.” <3

I have quite a few author’s notes because I drafted this entire story in two months. It was a passion project meant only for myself, but as I kept rereading, adding more chapters, and editing, I found myself wanting to share it, in case someone else might like to read it, too.

Truthfully, I have not played Elden Ring myself. I’ve watched my favorite YouTuber play it (and the DLC) numerous times, and I’ve watched my partner play it. And all the more truthfully, I did not expect to relate to Messmer on such a personal scale, especially since he only has the one encounter. The more I dug into him, the more I bonded with his character. As I’m sure most everyone who likes him has.

Along that same vein, I do not present Marika in any kind of positive light. My own mother is an abusive, controlling narcissist, who still tries to harm me to this day. This story has become extremely cathartic for the decades of abuse I’ve suffered at her hands. For many years, pain was the only thing I could feel, and I resorted to self-harm, as well as three different suicide attempts that I somehow survived. Marika became the perfect conduit for all of those emotions. Thankfully, like my version of Messmer, I have my own Tarnished, who not only protects me from an abusive mother but also from my own self-destructive mind.

One precautionary mention that’s probably redundant, as this is fanfiction. I have crafted lore that may not be entirely game-accurate. The more I research, the more ideas I have for my own spin on things. The important events and the core of the Elden Ring universe remain the same, but I’ve used my interpretation to weave together this tale.

My Tarnished’s story is told in first-person POV, while Messmer’s is presented in third-person POV. Their respective chapters will be clearly marked, as well.

The two songs that have stuck with me the most during the creation process are: “Revery” by Electric Callboy, for my Tarnished, and “Abyss (from Kaiju No. 8)” by Yungblud, for Messmer.

Thank you so much for bearing with my over-explanations, and happy reading! <3

*****

Checking over my shoulder one last time, I ascended the final step of this tower. It had taken all of my cunning to get here while engaging as few beings as possible. Thankfully, the bridge to this tower had been free of a guard. I had thought it odd as I had stolen across the dark stone lined with weapon racks overflowing with spears, but I long knew not to question good fortune.

Normally, I would walk through a main entrance, slaying anything in my path. But I no longer wanted the desire for war, the desire to take unnecessary lives. I longed to leave that life behind me. There had been a few knights that had spotted me during my sneaking escapade, and I did have to kill them, but only because they wouldn’t listen to reason.

Why should anyone listen to a Tarnished?

The essence of the site of Grace beckoned me. Approaching, I reached out a hand and let the surge of acknowledgement fill me with its fleeting warmth.

Warmth. I so desperately needed warmth.

The wish for warmth brought me here—to this looming fortress of a shadowed castle. I had come to this forsaken land in hopes of finally obtaining peace and a new life. However, native materials I had discovered led me to this specific place.

Reaching both hands into my magical pouch of hoarding, I pulled out the clear jar filled with the strange little embers. I had removed my gauntlets days ago, so I could feel the glass with my bare hands.

Each of the embers twisted and turned, worming over one another within the container.

I held the jar and drank in the soft heat seeping into my skin. My eyes closed. After all the time spent in the Lands Between, after my unnumbered days spent in this new land, I may have finally found a solution for my inherent coldness. The coldness of the death that forever lingered within me. The coldness of my bones that had been resurrected without my permission.

Nothing had been able to chase it away. But these seemingly living little embers may have a chance at finally bringing the warmth of life to me. I only wanted to know more about them. And from what I had gathered amongst the camps of Black Knights—who liked to kill me on sight—these embers belonged to the lord of this land, the lord of this castle.

It had taken some scouting, but I had managed to slip in without causing a ruckus. If those Black Knights were anything to assume the rest of this land by, I wasn't welcome here. Same as the Lands Between. Still, I held onto the useless hope that maybe I could reason with this lord before he executed me.

I watched the red and black embers writhe a bit more before stashing them back into the infinite pouch. If I stayed out here too long, I ran the risk of being caught before I met the lord. Although…I wasn't entirely certain if the lord resided here. This tower had just seemed especially important from the outside.

A soft, barely audible chiming reached my ears.

My gaze flickered to the site of Grace. Then again, I had also been guided to this tower by shimmering paths of gold. Despite my attempts to ignore them completely.

Anxiousness squeezed my chest and twisted my stomach. Inhaling a long breath, I forced the feelings out with my exhale. I was not here to do the bidding of another; I was here of my own accord, seeking what I could about the embers. There would be nothing more to it than that.

I walked to the imposing set of carved double doors gleaming with the light of the nearby Grace. You've washed yourself of Marika, I reminded myself, do not kill whomever lies beyond these doors. You are here for information, not death. A hand on each one, I pushed the doors open enough for me to walk through.

Darkness. Absolute and terrible darkness greeted me. A blackness akin to what accompanied me after each death. The same emptiness that forever chilled my very soul. Surely, the lord responsible for the lovely embers couldn’t be in such cold darkness.

“Mongrel intruder.”

The voice echoed all around me. I spun in the thick void until a wave of light ebbed on a sea of white candles. My vision followed the path of illuminating wicks. Then a sharp sensation coursed down my spine, lighting my nerves with my intuitive fight response.

A bright red serpent hovered mere inches from my face. Its emerald eyes searched me with a comprehension beyond any mere animal. A forked tongue flickered in my direction, nearly caressing my nose.

My breath held. This greeting did not bode well for how I’d be received. Even if I had, technically, intruded.

“Thou’rt…Tarnished, it seemeth.” The rich tone nearly sounded surprised.

Heat touched my cheeks, and I couldn’t discern if it stemmed from the continued embarrassment of my kind or from the winged serpent that examined my soul.

The silent snake recoiled into shadows set upon a high pedestal that had been curtained off from the rest of the dimly lit yet clearly expansive chamber. Mocking arrogance touched the faceless voice. “Mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light?”

My insides nearly crumbled. Not another demigod. I had hoped against all hope that this unknown land would be devoid of Marika’s relation. And now…now… An unsteady breath left me. That’s why the Grace had led here. She had guided me to put another one of her eternally damned children out of their misery.

But that’s not what I’m here for—

“Yet…” The great shadows within the parted canopy stirred, like a thick cloud of ash being disturbed after too long. “My purpose standeth unchanged.”

The taste of smoke coated my tongue; its scent caked my nostrils. It clogged my lungs and threatened to choke me from the inside out. I unintentionally stepped back. My resolve faltered. For a mere moment, the flames of that long-forgotten pyre blinded me, burning me alive.

The demigod emerged with a couple crouched steps before assuming a hunched stance with angled shoulders. Even with his poor posture, he easily towered over me with the support of his lithe frame. Two of the crimson serpents coiled over and around his body.

I cared little for assessing the armor and cloak that adorned him. My attention stayed on the greatspear clutched in his left hand. He would be the first demigod I fought to be left-handed. My brain instructed me to state my purpose, to plead against the attacks that would surely come. But my mouth failed. The head of that spear resembled a great lick of fire, and I could taste my own fear as burning memories continued to plague the back of my mind.

“Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death.” He raised his right hand, a ball of living fire forming above his palm. “In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.”

Brilliant fire engulfed the area around me, and I momentarily lost myself in the strangeness of it. How could this be a normal fire? It burned red and black. It moved similar to serpents. It took on a life of its own. It felt so wrong. Yet, it also felt right?

I want…I want to reach out and touch it…

A glowing, golden eye flew through the flames, the demigod moving with impossible speed.

I didn’t react. I couldn’t react. This whole encounter had taken me too off-guard. I hadn’t been prepared to relive that excruciating pyre. I hadn’t been prepared to be mesmerized by fire. But it mattered little. In an instant, it ended.

The warped blade of that giant spear ran clean through my chest. It cared naught for my armor.

He lifted my skewered body high above his head.

My insides screamed, and I choked up a mouthful of blood as I looked down at his pleased expression framed by his winged helmet and the same bright red hair I had seen too many times before.

This was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Messmer the Impaler I had heard about in the Black Knight camps. He spoke, but I couldn’t understand his words. The roar of fire and pain deafened me. I stared into the slit-pupil eye glowing with Markia’s blessing.

Life left me. And I knew I dissolved into a cloud of colorless matter.

*****

I awoke with my chest lurching forward. Stumbling a step, I caught myself on my knees and lowered my head. The dull ache of the spear throbbed through my torso.

The Grace quietly twinkled and chimed beside me.

My gaze shifted to the golden site. Even though it held no emotion, I had always thought it mocked me. Either because it knew I failed and died or because it knew I could never, truly, die. Marika’s mockery. Or the Two Fingers’ mockery. Or the Greater Will’s mockery. I didn’t know. Nor did I care. I would find a way to sever myself from all of them.

I looked back at the carved double doors that had been closed at some point. My heart squeezed in on itself. Why did the one responsible for the embers have to be a demigod? A demigod who seemed to know who I was. Which nearly guaranteed he would never have a civil conversation with me.

A slight draft drifted over the stairwell on my left. I glanced down into the stepped gloom. Did I forgo this charade I had been pursuing? Did I abandon the hope of warmth? If this land had proved anything, it was that I would still never know peace.

My chest expanded with a long inhale. No. Eyes narrowing, I focused on the Grace-lit doors once more. No, I had traveled into this unknown with a purpose, and that purpose wouldn’t be dashed so quickly. If I had a chance to leave my past behind, then I needed to seize it. Marika’s spawn be damned.

Shoving open the doors, I strode in.

The demigod had been burning my blood off his greatspear. He turned toward the sound of the stone doors scraping open. Both of the winged serpents poised themselves to strike. Head tilting, disbelief flickered over his face for but a moment.

I had seen that same expression before. And I would continue to see it until I eventually wiped every living soul out of the Realms. Such was my plight. I stopped mid-stride. No…that was no longer my responsibility.

Heat rushed me, but I registered it too late. The spearhead skewered me. Snaking flames consumed me, putting my body to the torch.

*****

When I resurrected next to the site of Grace, I sighed. A hand found my chest. If I continued down this path, I would never rid myself of the pain of being impaled. My skin crawled with the remnants of fire. I rolled my head from side to side. Why couldn’t I find my footing here? Trepidation coursed down my spine and prickled the hairs under the Black Knife armor.

I had been attempting to defy the Guidance ever since I had fled from Radagon. Ever since I had decided to flee the Order. And this land seemed to be doing everything in its power to return me to the path that had been predetermined for me.

My eyes fluttered. I would be stuck in an endless loop if I didn’t find a way to break free.

Disregarding the pain spasming within my torso, I pulled one of the bandit's curved swords out of the pouch strung on my left hip. I was too mentally unbalanced to experiment with what weapon would work best against this demigod. I needed something fast and familiar. Still, I froze.

The imposing doors had remained open, and the Impaler had been staring me down.

I allowed time for a steadying breath before I entered the chambers a third time.

That golden eye locked onto me. “Thou’rt…cursed.”

My jaw set. Though, I couldn’t dismiss the careful curiosity in his observation. “Yes.”

The twin serpents glided through the ash-laden air. They blocked off any means of an escape as they scented me with their tongues, as if trying to ascertain my truth.

I didn’t move. “One of us can die here. And as you’ve seen, it won’t be me.”

Messmer lowered the head of his spear. He appeared to be entertaining thoughtful contemplation. Circling me, his snakes returned closer to his body.

My head remained high, and my vision remained forward. A deep breath expanded my throbbing chest. “I’ve come here…” The thought of holding the jar of lovely embers calmed me. However, trying to reason with a demigod over something so trivial didn’t seem like the best course of action.

I focused on the far end of this chamber hidden in a haze of shadows, outside the reach of candlelight. “I’ve come to petition the lord of this land.” My gaze found him when he stopped in front of me. He hadn’t given any physical indication to concede to conversation. But I had his attention—although, my squirming senses knew the center of his attention was a dangerous place to be.

Unlike some of his raving siblings, this one moved with planned intelligence, acted and spoke with great consideration. He undoubtedly possessed the same manipulative cunning of his mother. My grip tightened on my sword’s hilt, and I forced my body to stay in place. She no longer controls you. You are not here to kill.

The demigod changed his grip on his weapon, as well.

I exhaled a long breath through my nose. “I’d like for you to ask your knights—” He lunged an attack, and I barely dodged out of the way.

Thus began a deadly dance of sword, spear, and flame.

Except…it wasn’t the fight my instincts expected. He didn’t go straight for the kill this time. I dare say he held himself back. No, he didn’t make the fight easy for me, but something had changed. He feigned attacks that left himself open. I landed strikes that could’ve—should’ve—been blocked.

I rolled beyond the reach of his barrage of spears. Teeth gritted, I watched him leap through the air. That greatspear aimed straight for me. I didn’t move.

It should've skewered my neck, but it didn't. The warped head sank into the stone on my left. Only the spear’s shaft separated us. He slowly looked at me, calculating and cold, even as waves of heat flowed off his body.

My eyes searched his unreadable expression. What was he doing? No…what was he devising? Because he fought with a singular purpose. What purpose, I couldn’t know. The other demigods had been quite easy to figure out. This one claimed his ambition to slay the Graceless. But my intuition whispered something else guided him.

Something twitched his bearing. Ripping out the spear, Messmer struck toward me with a speed and precision that should’ve been impossible for such a weapon at this close of a range.

My right arm caught the brunt of it, the spearhead nearly slicing it in two. I cried out as he jumped back out of my reach. My chest heaved with labored breaths. That was, that was new. And definitely more intentional than some of his previous attacks.

Blinding red and black fire erupted all around me. The flames sought to devour all sense of air. The heat alone threatened to choke me. I staggered to one knee. Then I inhaled my last breath as that golden eye flew in my direction.

This time, his right hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me above him. “Once more, anew.” His unwonted fire engulfed me.

I had no time to process anything when I resurrected; he waited for me. Neither could I speak with him. As soon as I stepped foot into the darkened chambers, he unleashed a string of attacks that drove me away from the door.

The demigod fought me so intensely, I barely had time to drink from my flask of crimson tears.

It didn’t take long for me to become battered. Didn’t take long for me to grow weary. I had changed to dual wielding the curved swords, but I couldn’t keep up with the rate he switched between offensive and defensive fighting techniques. At first, I had thought it would keep me from predicting him. Then I wondered if a war waged in his mind.

Trying to thoroughly assess him left me distracted. Not that I hadn’t been distracted before. Even still, he never landed a devastating strike. Even still, he provided opportunity attacks for me. My weariness soon turned into provoked aggravation. With an incensed yell, I called upon my heritage and honed in on the task at hand.

After a few more rounds of exchanging blows, the fight finished.

Both of my swords sunk deep into his core. I held the golden gaze of his right eye; his left eye seemed permanently sealed shut. Much like Melina’s. The perfect stoicness of Messmer’s face had been replaced with something I recognized all too well: the desire for everything to end.

I inhaled a sharp breath, and my heart instantly ached. Out of Marika’s children that I had previously battled, he was the first to display such a sentiment. One of my hands slipped on the hilt slick with demigod blood. I blinked away tears that threatened to surface.

What have I…? I’m not supposed to kill…

It seemed, it seemed I couldn’t change. I had been so cruelly resurrected with one purpose, and I would never be able to change it. Why? Why must I be forced to obey the whims of others? With a lowered head, I ripped my swords out of him.

Messmer stumbled back a few steps. He fell to one knee, using the greatspear as a support. “I…” His voice crackled like the flames around him. As his head drooped, his bright red hair slid around his neck. Something physically writhed within him. His head lifted, and a rekindled determination hardened his features. “I will not suffer a lord devoid of light.”

My brows furrowed as he rose to his feet. His actions appeared forced—puppeted almost. Did he not act entirely of his own volition? That could lend reason to my assumption of his internal conflict.

He looked back at the shadows towering inside the thick curtains guarding off his throne. “O Mother, forgive me.” Briefly regarding the serpent on his right-hand side, he poised a hand above his visible eye. Long fingers plunged into the socket, and he ripped a scream that the intensifying fire consumed. With strained grunts and groans, he pulled the eye free and held it before him. “...phew…”

I swept a leg into a defensive stance. Shimmering, gold-tinged blood dripped off the tips of my swords. The same streamed down his hand. How could I have forgotten that the divines possessed second forms?

“Soon, Tarnished, wilt thou be taken in the jaws…” He paused for a moment. Undoubtedly considering what he had done. He crushed the eye, and it shattered like glass.

My eyes widened. Had he been blind this whole time?

New fire consumed Messmer's form. Convulsing, he tore off his helmet and dropped to his knees. Black flames burned his cloak to tattered strips. It burned along the serpents, making them writhe as their crimson scales flaked away.

I watched the display with rapt attention. Even though he had brought this up on himself, he seemed to fight it. It baffled me. The winged serpents baffled me more. With the cloak no longer hiding their true origins, they protruded from the demigod’s pectorals. My head tilted. Grafted, perhaps?

Fire and scales and that absolute darkness entombed Messmer. The chaos soon subsided, and he slammed the greatspear onto the pitted stone floor. A deeper register, a deeper intent, filled out his voice as he pushed himself to his feet. “...of the Abyssal Serpent shorn of light.”

The chamber darkened, and the ash stirred again. I steeled myself against the dread trying to find purchase within me. An ancient force had been unleashed.

A massive white snake tore itself free from Messmer’s body with sprays of black liquid. Or had the demigod become it? I couldn’t give it much thought. This force—this Abyssal Serpent, as he had called it—coiled and struck with ruthless hunger. And when Messmer returned, he was faster, stronger, never leaving himself open in the slightest.

His raging inferno swallowed me whole.

When I returned to our arena, the Abyssal Serpent barreled down on me, followed by a greatspear wreathed in flames. I evaded and parried and struck when I could. The demigod eventually performed an attack I recognized, and I managed to invade his personal space. But I hesitated.

Messmer’s eyeless face showcased a battle of a different nature. His expression begged me to end his misery. But the released power forbade it. The Abyssal Serpent took me in its jaws, carried me toward the high ceiling, then crushed me down onto the floor.

That single move killed me more times than I cared to count.

Every time I entered the chamber, I could see the Serpent’s hunger growing. Did it know I was a meal that it could never devour? Because, I kept coming back. At this point, I had no choice but to slay the monster that I had created.

Messmer killed me in his normal form. Another run-through with the greatspear, a consequence for my draining energy. I understood him as my consciousness faded. “O lightless creature, embrace thine oblivion. As shall I.”

Those words haunted me. I couldn’t release the feeling that he spoke to the Abyssal Serpent, not me. He cared little for the wants of the once-sealed force; the demigod desired a mercy killing.

With great pain, and with greater patience, I learned how to predict the Serpent’s attacks. And I whittled that white snake down until Messmer could barely maintain his regular body. I stood a few feet away from him. I couldn’t control my bleeding nor my panting, but the rage of warrior adrenaline finally found its calm.

The demigod was on hands and knees. His lithe frame shuddered fiercely, his deathly pale skin ripped to shreds from both the Abyssal Serpent and my blades. He eventually reached his right hand up toward the ceiling that couldn’t be seen past the dying fires. His own gore still covered that hand. “Mother…”

The desperate plea of a broken man seeking the aid of his mother wrenched my heart. Why did it always have to end this way?

“Marika?”

Closing my eyes, I turned my head away. If I knew anything about Marika—and I knew too much—she had abandoned this son, same as the others, never to return to him. Not even when he called for her with his dying breath. Why did it have to be this way?

His voice cracked, but bitterness laced his words. “A curse…”

Must it truly end this way?

“...upon thee…”

My eyes flew open. Body moving without instruction, I rushed to his side, pouring my remaining crimson flask charge into his open mouth.