Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

How long? How long had it been now? It was hard to tell. Time passed strangely, for one such as her. She who was called an Empyrean. She who had never known defeat. Malenia lets out the quietest breath of air, as she sits in the chair next to the husk of the Haligtree, resting her single flesh and blood arm upon the root beside her. Her fingers caress the bark.
 
It had been easier when she slept. After that final battle with Radahn, much had been taken from her. After that disastrous final bout, the Battle of Aeonia, Malenia had been… exhausted. Falling into a great slumber, any number of dastardly things could have been done to her in the aftermath. But thanks to Knight Finlay, she had been brought back here, to the Haligtree, to await her brother’s resurrection.
 
Finlay had discharged her duty well. Twas only through her valiant service that Malenia could return to Miquella’s side, to serve as his Blade once more. But… Malenia could not say what had happened in her slumber. Something had gone wrong. Her brother had begun to undergo rebirth before she’d left for battle, but when she finally awoke after far too long… he had still not been reborn.
 
It was as if he was gone. But how could that be. No… no, Malenia would not allow the doubts to creep into her mind again. Twas the most insidious aspect of the Scarlet Rot that flowed through her veins. It was always whispering in the back of her mind. Always urging her to unleash it.
 
Miquella, voice of reason that he was, beloved brother to her that he was, had been the one who helped her hold it back when they were children. Through service to her brother, Malenia had found peace… for a given measure of it. The rot was always there. It took her limbs, it took her eyes, it took her dignity.
 
But Miquella… Miquella restored these things to her. He gave her purpose. He gave her a reason to fight. The voices whispered in the back of her mind constantly, calling her a Goddess of Rot, telling her that she was meant for more, to bloom and bloom and bloom. Malenia ignored them, as she always had under Miquella’s watchful eye.
 
And then Malenia had grown up… and Miquella had not. It had taken her far too long to realize her brother had his own burden to bear. Far too long to realize just how caring and kind and selfless he was, to put so much effort into helping her when his problems were just as great, just as… debilitating. It was then that Malenia had sworn herself to her brother, as his Blade.
 
It was then that she had taken up the art of the sword, swearing to never need to turn to the Rot for help so long as she had her brother by her side and a sword to wield in his name. She would not let the voices in. She would not let the Rot control her. This she had sworn.
 
Only once had they overcome her. During that final battle with her half-brother Radahn, with Miquella far, far away and in a state where he could not help her, pushed to her limits with her allies fallen all around her and her enemies nearly broken… Malenia had made a poor decision.
 
She was just… so angry. The voices had capitalized on that. They had weaponized her love for her brother against her in a moment of weakness. Radahn refused to listen to reason. Miquella was the best of them! He was the most fearsome Empyrean of them all! By comparison, her demigod half-brother was a jumped-up upstart at best!
 
General Radahn… pah! Don’t make her laugh. Only Miquella was fit to be Elden Lord. Only Miquella was meant to take their mother’s place and reforge the Elden Ring. If Radahn had simply understood that, if he’d accepted that… she wouldn’t have needed to do what she did. She…
 
No. The truth was, her action there that day had been a mistake. Would always be a mistake. In giving into the Scarlet Rot, in letting it bloom at long last despite her brother’s words, despite knowing that she needed to keep it contained as she had all her life… Malenia had erred. And not just Radahn and all of Caelid had suffered for her error.
 
Something about her slumber had clearly interfered with her brother’s resurrection. There was no other explanation for his tardiness. Malenia might not know how long she had sat here waiting, but she knew this much… it had been too long.
 
Still, Miquella would keep his promise. He was the best of them. All she had to do was wait.
 
… Wait, and fend off all intruders. Slowly, Malenia begins to move, as the Tarnished approaches with a familiar young thing with red hair at his back. Slowly, she turns her head to regard the both of them, as he gestures for her… doppelganger to stay back, clearly intending to handle her alone. How amusing. The first visitors she’s had in who knows how long, and one is an overconfident fool while the other is clearly made of her lineage.
 
But Malenia had never had children. Had never been able to have children. And her only true sibling was missing and needed to return to her as soon as possible, lest she suffer another lapse. This? This was some mockery of flesh.
 
The fallen leaves tell a story, and as a gust of wind blows through the enclosed grove here at the husk of the Haligtree, that story continues. Leaves, covering her helm and blade-arm, are blown away by the wind, fluttering in the breeze and revealing her armaments before her.
 
“I dreamt for so long.”
 
Rising from her chair, she notes the Tarnished motioning more emphatically for the red head doppelganger to back up. She watches as the mockery of her flesh does so, reluctantly but obediently all the same. In that moment, she’s taken aback by the feeling of nostalgia. They remind her of her and her brother.
 
… She’ll not go any easier on them for it though. In fact, she thinks she’ll be quite a bit more vicious for the reminder.
 
“My flesh was dull gold… and my blood, rotted.”
 
Kneeling down, she picks up her sword arm first, and brings it to the socket on her right side.
 
“Corpse after corpse, left in my wake…”
 
It locks in with a loud clanking noise, even as Malenia notes the Tarnished equipping a simple, small buckler on one arm… and a katana in his left.
 
“As I awaited… his return.”
 
This Tarnished has come a long way, just to die foolishly at her hands. Does he not understand the threat? Does he not know who he faces? She tries to tell him. She tries to warn him, in her own way. It’s much too late for him or his woman to flee, to be fair… but still, they deserve to know what is about to happen. What she has lost. What she even now barely holds back. This battle is already decided.
 
Taking up her helm in her flesh and blood hand and her blade in her prosthetic, Malenia engages the sword to her arm, locking it in place as well.
 
“Heed my words.”
 
Her helm in place, she turns to face her opponent. She decides then that she will give him his duel, before turning her blade upon the mockery he’s brought with him.
 
“I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella.”
 
Her sword comes up, and she swings it, to make sure it is ready for combat.
 
“And I have never known defeat.”
 
The moment she’s finished, she moves. To his credit, the Tarnished moves as well. They meet in the middle, in the center of the pool at the base of the Haligtree’s husk. Without hesitation, she strikes with all her speed and all her power, with the sheer skill of a swordswoman of her caliber. All of the technique that she’d learned in order to protect her brother. All of the experience she’d sought from so very many opponents, in order to be better ready to serve as her brother’s Blade.
 
She swings with every intention of ending this quick. She will follow up this first blow with another, and then another, and she will end this-
 
Malenia grunts, as the Tarnished raises his buckler at just the right moment… and that unassuming shield blocks her swing, deflecting it entirely. She is surprised, though she does not let that surprise take hold of her. Instead, she swings again, undeterred from her purpose. A simple spot of luck, blocking one of her blows with a shield of that size is-
 
When her second swipe is parried, Malenia skitters back, teeth gritting against one another, jaw clenching in anger. The Tarnished, meanwhile, moves forward, intent on pressing the attack. Obviously, she cannot let him. And the best defense is a good offense. So, she attacks again and again.
 
His next parry rocks her rot-ridden body so hard that it brings her to her knees. THAT is when he strikes. His katana, until now going unused, slides right into her chest, and Malenia chokes as she takes a wound for the first time in… in a long while. She hasn’t been injured like this since she fought Radahn, since the Battle of Aeonia at least. The katana slides in and out faster than she can react, as the Tarnished slips away like a thief in the night.
 
But she refuses to let him do so, she refuses to give him even an inch. And unbeknownst to him, he’s played right into her hands. Malenia, Blade of Miquella, does not win her battles by never being hit. Rather, she wins her battles by striking back twice as hard when she is struck, and in turn takes some of the life and vigor of her opponents for herself.
 
She goes to do so now, to punish this Tarnished for his impudence. She reaches for him, intent on grabbing him, but he rolls out of the way. And so, she swings instead, sure that this time he-
 
CLANG!
 
Somehow, someway, he matches her move for move, his speed enough to allow him to once again raise his buckler and parry his attack.
 
Malenia was… irritated before. She was upset that there were intruders here, in this place that was so special to her and her brother. She was annoyed to see a pale imitation of herself alongside this Tarnished, a mimicry that could not be allowed to stand.
 
But now? Now she begins to get angry. Which isn’t good. Not for any of them. The voices get a little louder, in the back of her head. The Rot wants out, and believes it’s found an opponent that will force Malenia to make use of it again.
 
Shuddering, she resolves to hold it at bay even now, even as she lunges at this upstart Tarnished with everything she has. She will draw blood. She refuses to-
 
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
 
The next exchange is an embarrassment for her, as she is once again staggered by multiple perfectly timed parries, only to have that katana slid in between her ribs in her moment of weakness once more. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Normally, she would be trading blows with her opponent, and be healing just as fast as she was taking injury and losing blood.
 
This was not normal. This Tarnished… he wasn’t giving her a chance to respond. That tiny shield of his was always there, to block every single one of her attacks. And only when she was weakest, only when she was staggered, her prosthetics trembling from the jarring parries, would he attack.
 
Pulling back, Malenia grits her teeth. No more. With a leap, she flies into the air… and BLURS into motion. The Waterfowl Dance. A gift of her mentor, one of several in fact. A technique that she had practiced until it became hers, until it was second nature.
 
A series of one-footed leaps in the manner of a waterfowl, allowing her to unleash a swift, yet graceful slashing combos. Her blade moves faster than any eyes, demigod or otherwise, could hope to track. She lashes out through the air in the direction of the Tarnished, KNOWING that he cannot parry this, that he will sustain damage her.
 
And to be fair… he does not parry a single blow from her Waterfowl Dance. Instead… instead, he rolls. He leaps. He dodges her. When the Waterfowl Dance is done, the three movements finished, Malenia finds herself in a state of utter disbelief.
 
How? How had not a single one of her attacks struck him? She had never had someone manage to escape if they were in range when she started the Waterfowl Dance. No, rather… he hadn’t tried to run away from her. He had escaped the bite of her blade by rolling INTO her and dodged every lightning fast swing of her sword in the process.
 
For the briefest of moments, Malenia feels a spark of fear. And in that beat of weakness, the voices skyrocket in volume in her head. The Rot wants OUT, and in this moment, believes that only it can save her from this opponent.
 
Surely it isn’t right. She forces the pulsing Rot back down, forces it away even as agony wracks her body, not from the wounds still seeping blood out of her chest, but from the infection she’s lived with all her life. No matter how skilled this enemy, she will not unleash the Scarlet Rot again. She will not bloom as she did in Caelid. She will-
 
The battle has not stopped, in the midst of her shock and introspection. Moving almost subconsciously, Malenia had continued to try to strike at the Tarnished, and in doing so had found herself parried again and again, until once more he found an opening and sheathed his katana into her chest as she was staggered.
 
The more damage she takes, the slower her blade arm becomes. Her life blood flows from the wounds in her chest, her body beginning to refuse to answer her commands quite as fast. She is… weakening. She is… dying.
 
It shouldn’t have been possible. Even Radahn took injury at the end of her blade. For this lowly, graceless Tarnished to come in here and… no. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. She couldn’t… she couldn’t protect her brother’s legacy like this. She couldn’t be there when he returned, if she died here and now!
 
She was Malenia, Blade of Miquella… and she would sooner set aside her pride then know defeat. As the Tarnished slides his katana into her chest one last time and her limbs give out on her, leaving Malenia to fall face down into the water… the Rot reaches out, calling for her to give in and make use of it once more.
 
I’m sorry, brother.
 
And so, she does, even as the Tarnished steps back, clearly thinking her defeated. But she is not done yet. And he… he has no idea what he’s forced her to unleash.

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