Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

“Irina!”
 
Irina startles, her father’s voice suddenly right in her ear. Though, he doesn’t sound frantic or panicked, for all that his tone is excited and agitated. She stills herself, her breath hitching in anticipation of what he has to say to her. Could it be?
 
“He’s here.”
 
The blind girl brightens up immediately, her hands clasping in her lap at that news. She and her father had traveled to Roundtable Hold, just as Edgar said they would. They had found welcome there, and safety within the halls as its guests. They themselves might not be Tarnished, but neither are they adversaries or enemies.
 
Irina has been getting used to the new accommodations ever since they arrived, staying close to her father’s side, but always waiting, always hoping…
 
“Sir Tarnished! A moment of your time, if you please!”
 
When her father calls out to the Tarnished who saved her, who saved both of them, Irina doesn’t quite know what to do. She feels his approach though, even if she can’t see him. As before, he does not speak… and yet, she finds herself basking in his presence all the same. There’s a warmth that fills the air, even greater than her father’s warmth.
 
“I know not if you remember us, but- ah, you do then? Good, that’s good. Irina and I had hoped to see you here, in truth. This place… it’s a safe haven not just for your kind, but us as well, isn’t it?”
 
The Tarnished must nod, because her father’s tone takes on a musing tone.
 
“Is it true then? The rumors? They say you defeated Lord Godrick and claimed his Great Rune.”
 
Another beat of silence. Edgar’s voice sounds… strained and conflicted. Irina supposes she understands why. Her father was given his post by Lord Godrick. Castle Morne was only their home because the Lord of Limgrave deemed it so. It makes sense, that her father would be unsure of himself, and unsure of how to feel about the Tarnished’s victory. But for Irina? For Irina, there is only one emotion in all of this. Gratitude.
 
“… I… see. Well, I…”
 
Before her father can say another word, Irina reaches down, finds his hand, and grabs it tightly, giving it a hard squeeze as she speaks in the direction, she feels the Tarnished’s warmth coming from.
 
“Thank you, Sir Tarnished. Thank you for saving me and for bringing me to my father. Thank you for retrieving that sword, that my father might no longer be bound by duty. Thank you for giving us this second chance together.”
 
She speaks with utmost sincerity and certainty, her every word hammering with earnest honesty. But at the same time, she has a little reproach in her tone, directed at her father. For the longest time, Irina had thought the world of her father. Edgar was a stalwart warrior, and a strong man. And most importantly of all, he was her father. Or so she’d always believed.
 
While she’d forgiven him since, Irina would never forget that he’d put his duty to Lord Godrick above staying by her side. If not for this Tarnished, she would have died. This, the blind young woman is now sure of. Sitting in a place of safety such as Roundtable Hold, knowing what she knows now… there isn’t a doubt in Irina’s mind that her father’s duty would have gotten the both of them killed, more than likely.
 
After a pregnant pause, her father speaks up again, sounding appropriately chastised.
 
“Yes. Thank you, Sir Tarnished, for everything you’ve done for me and my daughter. We would not be here without your help.”
 
The Tarnished does not respond with words, but Irina barely flinches when she feels his hand suddenly on her shoulder. Judging by her father’s slight stiffening and sharp intake of breath, the Tarnished’s other hand is on Edgar’s shoulder as well. He gives them both a comforting squeeze, before pulling back. Irina knows that he’s gone, because that warm presence slowly recedes and her father lets out a shaky breath in his absence.
 
“Irina, that man…”
 
Irina does something she never would have done before the events of the last few weeks. She interrupts her father, cutting off whatever he might have said as her sightless eyes stare after the Tarnished, imagining his strong and stalwart back profile walking away in her mind’s eye.
 
“I might just marry that man one day father, Grace Willing. So do be careful what you say about him in my presence.”
 
Edgar jolts in surprise, and she can tell her father is staring at her, gobsmacked.
 
“W-What?! Irina!”
 
But Irina is just smiling, tuning him out as she imagines a life with her Tarnished and all that it might entail.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Roderika sits with her legs folded under her and smiles. Her new set of tools, as well as several tomes, are arrayed on a cloth blanket before her. Her red hood is gone, and her blonde locks are out… but it’s alright. She feels good, sitting here, making some use of herself. Heh, who would have guessed? Her, a Spirit-Tuner. It was still a little mind-boggling.
 
And yet… here she was. When the Tarnished had come back to her with that memento from her men, Roderika had been completely astonished. To some, it might have just been a brooch wrapped in red velvet. To her… it was something much more. The spirits of her men, all those who had come with her to the Lands Between, were tied to the brooch. Only she could hear them. Only she could interact with them.
 
Although… she questioned if that were true. It was possible that the Tarnished could as well, seeing how he’d seemed so sure he knew it would be important to her. In the end, it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. Her men… they all believed in her. They all thought she could make something of herself. And so, she’d headed to Roundtable Hold after all, searching for a purpose.
 
Never in a million years had she thought the Tarnished who had helped her so much already would see fit to help her again! It turned out that Roundtable Hold’s Smithing Master, a… man named Hewg, had seen the same thing in her that her men had. And better still, HE could put a name to it.
 
Glancing up from her work, Roderika sees Hewg sneaking a glance over at her, and flashes him a bright smile. The Smithing Master quickly averts his eyes in that gruff, easily embarrassed way of his, but Roderika doesn’t mind. He might have a somewhat frightening appearance, but she’s not so scared of him anymore. He has a kind soul to him, no matter what anyone says. And… it’s thanks to him that she’s started down the path of Spirit Tuning.
 
Him and…
 
Roderika starts, as a familiar face steps into the hall that she and Master Hewg have made their base of operations. The Tarnished walks over to her with a bright smile on his face, and Roderika can’t help but smile brightly right along with him.
 
“Ah! It’s good to see you again. Thank you very much for your assistance. I can happily announce that Master Hewg has taught me the noble toil of spirit tuning.”
 
Roderika’s smile dims slightly, and her tone becomes slightly self-deprecating as she looks down at her tools with a somewhat helpless shrug.
 
“I’m as yet unsure of what I might be able to accomplish, to tell you the truth. But if I might be any help to you at all, I’d certainly like to try. And… if there’s a chance to ease the suffering of my dear men who were grafted, well… I certainly must try.”

Straightening up and squaring her shoulders, the blonde looks up at the Tarnished, once more smiling brightly.
 
“Roderika the spirit tuner apprentice. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
 
The Tarnished bows his head in greeting… and then brings out a familiar set of Spirit Ashes… along with an entire bushel of Grave Glovewort. Roderika’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen as she takes the Spirit Jellyfish Ashes (Aurelia!) in one hand, and the Grave Glovewort in the other.
 
“I… you want me to…?”
 
The Tarnished smiles softly and nods, looking at her with such… certainty. The materials he’s just given her are… quite valuable. There’s a Greater Grave Glovewort among them! And yet, he trusts her implicitly, doesn’t he? Roderika swallows thickly past the lump in her throat and has to hold back tears as she trembles a bit. Eventually, she manages to get herself back under control. Luckily, the Tarnished does not bring it up, nor comment on it. Heh, of course he doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t speak.
 
Still, he also doesn’t look upset with her for her momentary lapse. Instead, he looks as warm and understanding as ever. Letting out a shuddering breath, Roderika nods.
 
“V-Very well… I shall… it might take a little bit of time. Is that a-alright?”
 
Giving her an understanding nod, the Tarnished steps away. Roderika watches him go, watches as he turns and strides through the open doorway to where she knows another denizen of the Roundtable Hold awaits. Ah, but that’s none of her business… and her Tarnished gave her a task, didn’t he? Really… it’s nothing to do with her, if he has some business with Fia, the Deathbed Companion…
 
-x-X-x-
 
Fia, Deathbed Companion, had found herself in something of a predicament. Here she was, in this far off land, so far from her purpose… and yet, also so very close as well. Twas not fair, what had happened to her. But then, life very rarely was fair, was it?
 
Still, even as she found herself constrained to the bounds of Roundtable Hold; she was not completely bereft of rumors. There were those who still whispered in her ear and let her hold them, and so she heard all there was to hear, even from her bed.
 
And so, she’s not at all surprised when the new Tarnished steps into her room. Striding in with a confidence that Fia’s eyes immediately pick up on, dressed down from the armor she’d heard he was usually wearing and clad in more comfortable robes instead, he nevertheless strikes quite the imposing figure. She, of course, is unafraid. This man defeated a Demigod, brought low Godrick the Grafted and took the Great Rune from his corpse… and yet, tis not the Rune nor the Corpse that Fia, Deathbed Companion, is looking for.
 
Even still…
 
“Greetings, great champion called by grace. I am Fia. Circumstances have compelled my stay here in Roundtable Hold.”
 
He stops in front of her and gives her an almost knowing smile. But she will not be deterred. Hands clasped in her lap, head held high, she smiles right back at him.
 
“Great Champion, would you-!”
 
Fia can only blink in surprise, when he suddenly strides forward, drops to a knee, and buries his face in her lap, hugging her right then and there before she can even finish her spiel. Her arms instinctively wrap around him in turn, taking him into her embrace, but she’s still a little bemused, a little nonplussed.
 
“Great champion, I would not dare to presume… would you share with me some of your lively vigor then? Your stalwart stout-heartedness?”
 
Lifting his head from where it’d ended up resting against her bosom, the Tarnished gives her a serious nod, as if he knows exactly what she’s about. No hesitation, no doubts, no concerns. Fia lets out a breathy sigh and finally stops holding back.
 
“Ah, my thanks great champion. You are… very warm… very, VERY warm. M-My word…”

Fia’s cheeks grow aflame, as she takes from the Tarnished, only to realize just how MUCH he has to give. Only a small penance of vigor, that’s all she desires in return for her blessing. Not too much to ask, in Fia’s estimation, though some have taken umbrage with their deal after the fact… and several more have made the mistake of overestimating themselves and underestimating the baldachin’s blessing in the wake of their arrangements.
 
Yes, she knows that there are many who do not trust her, who hunt her as well. And yet, this man? This man, she feels a strange kinship towards. For all that he walks more in Life than Death, there is a juxtaposition here. He seems almost happy to support her, and Fia’s breath is taken away by just how much support that amounts to. She had hoped, given his defeat of Godrick, that he would be strong and willing to accommodate her with a small fraction of that strength. But this was more than she ever could have hoped for.
 
Indeed, Fia had even been willing to offer more than a hug, if more was what he desired. But… no. As the embrace comes to a close, the Tarnished pulls back and stands up, giving her a smile and a nod. Fia licks her lips, barely remembering her closing lines.
 
“What… what you felt light up inside you was a baldachin’s blessing. Though… tis but a fleeting thing, I am afraid. Come b-back to me, should you require another. I will take you in my arms as often as you need.”
 
Suddenly, the Tarnished reaches for her. Not in anger, nor malice, nor even in lust as she might have expected. He places a hand on Fia’s shoulder… and gives it a comforting squeeze as he solemnly nods at her. Fia can only stare, mouth slightly agape, as he turns from her a moment later and simply… walks away.
 
… Had that really just happened? Her hand goes to her chest, and to her abdomen. The sheer amount of vigor swirling around inside of Fia… she hoped it had happened. And she hoped it happened again and again…
 
She could scarcely wait for her Tarnished to let her hold him once more…
 
-x-X-x-
 
“-ou now belong to a select group of fellows. As such, I ask only that you remain constant.”
 
There’s a brief pause, and then her father, Sir Gideon Ofnir, responds to whatever motion the nameless Tarnished had made, likely a nod.
 
“Good. Then I suspect you’ll be off to hunt more Great Runes. Whether you go East or West, whether you seek out General Radahn or Queen Rennala, I wish you the best of luck. May the Grace of the Erdtree go with you.”
 
Nepheli Loux bounces somewhat nervously from foot to foot as she tries to look busy at the small table catty-corner from the door to her father’s study. Outside of it stands Ensha, the skull-mask wearing man leaning back against the wall all nonchalant and menacing as ever. If he notices her constantly glancing past him towards her father’s doorway, Ensha doesn’t say or do anything to the effect. He probably DOES notice her… and just doesn’t care.
 
That’s fine though, Nepheli only has time for one man right now… and it’s the man who’s just stepping out into the hall right this moment. For a second, she begins to open her mouth to call him over, but the Tarnished she’d fought Godrick the Grafted with (and then been raucously fucked by upon his throne) notes her before she can do so and smiles widely as he makes her way over.
 
Swallowing her nervousness down, Nepheli does her best to present as the warrior she is.
 
“I thought you’d receive a summons to Roundtable hold. I’m glad to see you here again. Ah I suppose I didn’t introduce myself before. I am Nepheli Loux. My father was the man you just spoke to in that study, the leader of Roundtable Hold.”
 
With a knowing grin, the mute Tarnished just nods. Nepheli finds herself coloring just a bit. But she doesn’t get the impression he’s silently laughing at her or anything like that. Still… it’s embarrassing, having fucked this man before even telling him her name. Though fair was fair, she didn’t know HIS name. And… it didn’t seem like she was going to learn it any time soon. Still.
 
“I’m glad to see you here. I have something for you, in fact.”
 
Pulling the Arsenal Charm out of her belt, Nepheli clears her throat.
 
“I found this in Godrick’s grafting grounds. Seeing as you played the largest part in his defeat, I believe you should have it. Make good use of it, would you? I don’t intend to make a habit of scavenging corpses.”
 
Nodding solemnly, the Tarnished takes the Arsenal Charm from her. Nepheli, meanwhile, bites her lower lip. He’s dressed differently then when they first met. His chest is covered, for one. And yet, his form is still there, hidden under all that cloth. He’s still the warrior she fought alongside… and the man who fucked her soundly.
 
She’s half-tempted to drag him into one of Roundtable Hold’s empty rooms for an encore performance… but she’s not that kind of woman. Rather, above all else, their encounter has left her with a desire for BATTLE more than anything else. Feeling a bloodlust coming over her, an inspiration to get out there and find worthy opponents as Tarnished should, Nepheli gives her Tarnished a single nod.
 
“Twas good to see you again, but it’s about time I headed off. I’m sure I’ll see you again, warrior… should the fates deign it.”
 
He watches her go with a smile, and though Nepheli feels right in leaving then and there rather than seeking more from him, she also feels right in swaying her hips just a bit more than she otherwise would as she departs. She’d give him a little something to remember her by, till the next time she and her Tarnished crossed paths.

-x-X-x-

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