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lordless-not-maidenless · 1 year

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Lordless: Dreaming of Cursed Grace

The cursed grace, pain wreathed in gold, followed Fenris into her dreams.

The chains that bound her in the waking world did so here in this bleak dreamscape. Within a truly massive, hollow tree, Fenris stared down the taller woman in front of her.

Garbed in a white silken robe, blonde hair woven into a singe braid, was The Eternal Queen.

Marika sighed in frustration at her.

“This needn’t be painful for thee,” Marika said. “Three Great Runes are all thou need to fulfil thy duty, and take the throne…And there are double that number among my children, ye needn’t even lay a hand upon the thing thou hast chosen as thy Lord.”

Fenris was no stranger to dreams, nor of the entities that may dwell within.

And here, within her dreams, did she have a voice.

Fenris raised a brow at her, if the women was going to speak to her on even terms, then so be it.

“You are not the one I serve, nor will ever call Lord,” Fenris stated. “Release me from my chains, rescind your grace, and leave me be.”

“And let thy blight infest this land?” Marika hissed. “I brought ye back! I gave thee grace! To divest thee of it now wouldst taint this land in thine affliction that thou carried with thee into death.”

Affliction? Blight? Fenris had none of those things when she—

How did Fenris die?

She could clearly remember her first life, from her earliest childhood years with her Legion, to serving the humble farming village after her training with Lady Sibyl had concluded.

Yet the final years of her life remained missing from her memory. There was something she felt like she forgot.

But that did not change her mind on obeying Queen Marika. All it did was spark her curiosity.

“And what will you do if I continue to rebel and refuse such…generosity?” Fenris asked.

“Then thou shalt know no respite from thy torment until thine will surrenders to mine own,” Marika replied haughtily. She smirked. “Unless ye either obey me or kill me, ye will never know peace.”

“And you think I will break so easily?” Fenris challenged.

“Nay, but I know thine ilk,” Marika replied. “If thine Lord is threatened, then thou shalt do everything in thine power to remove the threat…even if that threat is thineself.”

The knight held her head high, she was not so easily cowed by the queen’s words, nor would she ever turn her weapons on Margit.

“Be it through your death at my claws, or through some other means you have overlooked, I will rid myself of this curse,” Fenris declared. “Until then, I will do everything within my power to ensure I never become Elden Lord.”

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Bit of a small update

Currently, I’m focused on working on the next chapter of my Timeless Heretic AU, but plan to go back to Lordless once I’ve gotten more chapters of Timeless Heretic done.

The reason why is because I started Lordless as a break from Timeless Heretic, as that AU has fics with longer chapters and require more time and energy to write. Lordless is basically slowly working plot around a bunch of fun ideas and whatever pops into my head, and is far less draining to write (when I don’t have writer’s block...which sucks...)

I plan to bounce between the two until both are done.

And sorry about the radio silence, I’m generally unused to being social online, and something like...frequent posts or a schedule don’t really work with me when I’m the kind of person who just writes when the muse strikes me. And I’m more of a lurker if anything...

Stuff like mental and physical health, other hobbies, and whatnot also play a part in this too, not an excuse, but I am trying, which is something at least.

Happy spooky month everyone, as always, the ask box is open (you can ask questions about the AU’s, about what I think about stuff, or even leave your thoughts on Lordless or Timeless Heretic if you want)

#author snippets #elden ring #lordless au #timeless heretic au

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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You still alive?

Yes! However I'm juggling several fanfics, other hobbies, and my health.

I'm currently working through some writer's block and making slow progress on my Timeless Heretic AU, my plan is to jump between working on Lordless and Timeless Heretic depending on what's easier for me to write.

To clarify on my health, I live in the southern hemisphere, with the weather being the way it is, my sinuses have been going haywire and I've been getting more headaches as a result. I've also been sore and fatigued in general due to a few factors outside of my control.

Writing takes a lot of my focus and energy, and my focus has shifted to other hobbies while brainstorming for these fanfics on the side.

Not dead, just sore, tired, and lacking the energy to focus on writing at the moment.

At the time of writing this, I have part of a scene for the next chapter of Timeless Heretic: Resolve written, and am planning out the general flow of the rest of the chapter.

I am still in the brainstorming stage for the next segment of Lordless trying to figure what angle to approach my idea for it.

#author snippets #lordless au #timeless heretic au #elden ring

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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im just dropping in to say that i finally caught up with both 'lordless' and 'the timeless heretic' and i love them! 🖤

I'm glad you like them!

#ask box #lordless au #timeless heretic au #elden ring

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Announcement: Lordless AO3 Q&A

So, I’ve crossposted all the Lordless parts onto AO3, and it is my most popular fic out of everything I’ve written on there since I joined about a year ago. To celebrate, the ask box will be open! Ask Fenris a question and said questions, and responses, shall not only be posted here, but also compiled into the next AO3 post. Nothing NSFW. And for those of you coming over from AO3, keep it T rated! Aside from that, have fun and ask away! There’s no set time limit, and anything I don’t get around to putting up on AO3 will go in additional Q&A chapters. (Honestly, I have no idea if I’m even going to get any questions, but hey, I think it’ll be fun!)

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished #author snippets

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: In Search of an Old Friend

The sound of his Night’s Cavalry conversing and enjoying food and drink before their shift could be heard through the wooden door.

The Stablemaster, Djura, had kindly pointed Morgott in the direction Boros had gone and now the omen stood apprehensive before the door to the dining hall.

He debated going back to his chambers, but that presented its own hurdle.

Knight Fenris.

He wasn’t sure how to handle the bloodhound knight, what did she see in him that made him worthy of servitude. She wasn’t even aware of his true name and title and yet…

Fenris and Boros both seemed to care not about his cursed blood, about the shameful stain his existence was to Marika’s line.

His first instinct upon seeing Fenris in agony and wrapped in chains was to try and ease her suffering, to heal when it would have been far swifter to strike her down before she could become a threat. He would not strike down one loyal to him, not when that loyalty was so rare for one like him.

And Boros’ plan, slow in progress though it was, had already began to benefit the capital. Though he would stand his ground about the argument, grounds and reasoning that was growing shakier by the day, he hadn’t meant to snap at Boros.

As he searched, he had trouble breathing, the stumps of his cut off horns ached, and he was one confrontation away from the seal on his cursed blood breaking, his worry grew. Fenris needed to be freed from her curse, something needed to be done about the scattered Great Runes tarnished, and he still had his duties towards The Erdtree the people.

His grip on his staff tightened as he pushed the door open and scanned the room for any sign of his advisor.

Someone cleared their throat to his left and he turned to see Boros seated with Spymaster Eileen and her comrades.

“Sir Boros—"Morgott began but the crucible knight turned around in his seat to face him and held up a hand to tell him to wait.

“How is she?” Boros asked seriously as he rested his hands in his lap.

“Recovering,” Morgott replied and Boros breathed a sigh of relief. “Knight Fenris has quelled the curse for the moment, and I have instructed her to rest.”

“Then we need to find a way to break it soon…” Boros commented and stiffly added. “We can talk about what happened before later.”

“Agreed,” Morgott replied and addressed the spymaster. “Eileen, are there any matters that need my immediate attention?”

He would need time to sift through the older records The Order had on wolfborn, while it wasn’t uncommon for him to be dedicated to a task for weeks at a time, he did so with the knowledge that Eileen and other trusted staff would run things.

“Ofnir’s men have been spotted in Liurnia,” Eillen informed him. “Targeting albinaurics, we think there’s something in their village he’s after.”

“And none in Liurnia have moved against them?” Morgott asked.

At Eileen’s reply, a shake of the head, he frowned. Liurnia was not in the same sorry state as Limgrave but it was a far cry from its peak and Morgott doubted the scholars of the academy or the Carian royals could spare the time or manpower to drive off Gideon’s men.

In truth, Leyndell’s own forces were stretched thin, and he still had to contend with the nobility and matters of court if he, with his Veiled Monarch illusion, were to send out more than only a handful of men.

But the night’s cavalry were more than suited to the task, and he had complete freedom over how the cavalry was used.

“Send a request to the Healers Guild for a perfumer, and decide amongst thyselves who should go with them to root out Ofnir;s spies,” Morgott stated. “I trust thou all know how to handle those who are inquisitive?”

“Oh we know well,” Eileen replied with a smile that was a bit too sharp. “Henryk already volunteered, and I know a perfumer that’ll be up to the job.”

He raised a brow at her. “Another old friend of thine?”

Eileen’s smile turned genuine. “Aye, a fair of my old friends followed me over ‘ere when I went gallivanting off in search of my granddaughter.”

Henryk snorted.

“Did you ever show her the papers?” Gascoigne asked Eileen amusedly and the spymaster nodded.

“Be a fool not to, might not be mine by blood, but after the hell she went through…well I couldn’t just do nothin’, could I?” Eileen replied and nodded to Morgott. “We’ll get things sorted Sir, might be best for you and Boros to keep an eye on that Hound of yours.”

“My thanks,” Morgott said and dipped his head in respect and ducked out of the dining room, the sound of Boros moving to follow not far behind.

As he took the winding path back to his quarters, the strain of the day his curse was quickly catching up with him.

But hiding the strain on his already overtaxed body was something he was used to.

“Thou art dismissed for the day,” he said quietly to the crucible knight still following his footsteps. “I shall be retiring early myself.”

“And Fenris?” Boros asked curiously.

“Shall room with me until a room can be prepared for her,” he said and waved off the concern Boros would no doubt be voicing. “Doing so will allow me to monitor her for any resurgence of her ailment.”

Ailment was the best way he could describe out in the palace halls. The full extent of Fenris’ situation was to remain between him, Boros, and the night cavalry.

“Fair enough,” Boros said, some of his usual joviality returning. “I’ll walk you back and then return to my post.”

#lordless au #elden ring #morgott the grace given #tarnished

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Cavalry Companions

(This took a bit to write because I had a bit of trouble with this scene, that and health stuff got in the way. I’d also like to thank my boyfriend for proofreading this and a few other posts, he’s a godsend. I hope you enjoy.)

Boros shoved his way into the dining hall of the Night’s Cavalry Headquarters. Though the entrance, and indeed it’s very existence a secret as it was tucked away in some unseen section of the capital, the modest communal kitchen and scattered seating was homey. The cavalry themselves were in full armour, save for their helms, and idled away the hours before dusk with food, drink, and chatter.

“You’re in a right state,” a voice commented, and he turned to see Spymaster Eileen seated at a table near the door, her modified confessor uniform and black feather cape standing out amongst the amour of the cavalry. “Another argument with his majesty?”

Eileen looked at him without judgement and Boros, though frustrated, took the seat opposite her with a weary sigh. Her black hair tied back in a bun, the older woman responsible for handling reports and caring for the messenger crows used by the cavalry.

“Something like that.” He settled on and Eileen hummed in thought.

“Suppose there’s no use but to wait and try again,” she replied. “Maybe that Hound can help get our king to see reason?”

“Not yet, something else has come up…Fenris has been cursed,” Boros replied, careful with his words. “I won’t drag her into this until I know she won’t be harmed in the process.”

Two figures took the remaining seats, and a bowl of soup was placed in front of the crucible knight.

“What’s this about a curse?” Gascoigne said from Boros’ right. The hulking man in the dark amour of the cavalry was Viola’s husband and a good friend, Boros found himself glad for the company.

Henryk was seated to his left, a senior member of the Night’s Cavalry. Both Henryk and Gascoigne often joined Eileen during their breaks. All three were old friends from their time in The Golden Order before The Shattering, and Boros had been welcomed into their group back during war.

“Knight Fenris, that Hound his majesty picked up, got herself cursed.” Eileen explained as Gascoigne placed his helm on the floor.

Gascoigne, an imposing figure even seated, looked grim as he turned to Boros. “Tell me lad, this curse of hers, golden chains I take it?”

Boros nodded, and Gascoigne muttered a prayer as Henryk swore. Boros looked between them. “You know something then?”

“The lass be cursed to follow the orders of whoever placed those damnable chains on her,” Gascoigne said quietly, the giant of a man looked cowed by the mere mention of such a thing. “It will tear away at her wits, blind her with pain, until she has no choice but to follow the commands.”

“Trouble is, the last of that dreaded curse was broken long ago, and the key to freedom from it lost when the wolfborn were driven away from these lands,” Gascoigne explained. “Only a Great Wolf has the strength to break those chains, that or kill whoever placed the curse on her.”

“Killing who cursed her…isn’t exactly an option.” Boros explained.

“Then you’ll have to hope his majesty can work something out,” Eileen cautioned. “We can’t have Knight Fenris be a risk to herself or anyone else.”

Boros nodded and dug into the bowl of soup he’d been offered. He needed to calm down and take the time to let the sting of hurt and frustration to fade.

The conversation soon turned to more everyday topics.

“D has been on the warpath again,” Eileen said, and the other three at the table groaned in annoyance. She smirked. “Aye, he’s been nattering about the death gardens again.”

“He’s going to get himself killed…” Gascoigne commented, and Henryk hummed in agreement.

“He’s going to get someone else killed,” Boros said, and frustration dripped from his voice. “At least he isn’t as bad as Sir Gideon Ofnir.”

“Still haven’t found a way to The Roundtable?” Gascoinge asked.

“Nope.”

“He’s been a nuisance. His men have been moving into Liurnia…” Eileen added.

Boros sighed. Their forces were spread too thin. The Night’s Cavalry could only cover so much ground after sundown, and the restoration project lacked the resources and manpower to extend beyond the capital.

Henryk, a man of few words, spoke up. “…I can request a new patrol route.”

“Might be best to have one of the perfumers go with you,” Eileen suggested. “Gideon’s men are harassing the albinaurics.”

“They might be headed to the village.” Boros suggested.

The mood soured once more, the albinaurics were defenceless, harmless and were left alone for the most part. To know that Gideon was targeting the manmade creations was worrying.

And yet another thing to add to the pile of things needing to be addressed.

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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We love and cherish Morgott on this blog.

Under Heartwarming.

#author snippets

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Butting Heads

(this took a while to get done, but I hope you enjoy!)

He was in the far-left corner of the room he had dedicated to late-night work when the sound of someone barging into his chambers had Morgott reaching for his cane and froze at the sight of Boros with Fenris carried in his arms.

The crucible knight hurried in and strode over to the pile of blankets and furs Morgott used as bedding. He gently placed the whimpering Hound down on the nest of bedding and stepped away as the omen walked over to inspect the situation.

Morgott took in the way Fenris was curled up in pain, thin golden chains of hardlight wrapped around her limbs and neck. Her gauntlets and weapons missing were something that worried him. He knelt and reached out to touch one of the golden links wrapped around an arm.

And recoiled at the heat the binding gave off, a voice ringing in his ears.

“Stand before the Elden Ring. And become the Elden Lord.”

He would know that voice anywhere. The firm tone of The Eternal Queen, his own mother, was not something he would ever forget. He frowned at the implications and looked at Boros. “What happened?”

“She just appeared at the outpost like this,” Boros explained. “Her maiden suggested that her oath to you was too weak to fight it off.”

“And what are thine thoughts on this?” Morgott asked.

“She’s cursed by something, no idea what, she was in Stormveil Castle last I checked—”

Morgott growled. “And why didst thou send her there? I ordered thee to keep her and any other tarnished away from the castle.”

Boros scoffed. “Godrick still has the mimic veil. My thinking was that you’d appreciate having it back. The poor girl was working herself into a tizzy, doubting if you even want her around…”

“Then thou should have brought it to my attention—”

“I did, but you never listen.” Boros pointed out bluntly. He crossed his arms and looked down at Fenris. “…Got any idea what this is?”

Morgott had a rather good idea what it was that was the cause of this, loathe he was to admit it. Wolfborn were tamed by The Golden Order during Marika’s rule with such an incantation. Though the texts painted the spell as a necessity to curb their beastly instincts, Morgott looked down at the bloodhound knight curled up on his bed and knew that was not the case.

He remembered her distress when he fought her originally, when he had first rejected her offer of servitude, how she clearly indicated she wanted nothing to do with the sole reason she had been granted grace to begin with.

Yet wolfborn were resilient, Bloodhound Knights even stronger from what was known about them. If Fenris was ever spurred on by the same ambition that many other tarnished had, Morgott doubted that even he could fend her off for long.

Boros was still waiting for answer. And Morgott sighed.

“I believe this a result of my mother’s scheming…” Morgott admitted. “Fenris can see grace?”

“Same as me, yes,” Boros replied. “Wait…is this because of the guidance of grace?”

Morgott nodded gravely and sighed in resignation as Boros began swearing up a storm.

“Mind thy tongue Sir Boros.” He said on reflex.

“But—look at her!” Boros exclaimed. “That ain’t right!”

Morgott bristled, he had tolerated Boros’ heresy, his use of fire incantations on the field of battle, because of the man’s unshakable trust in him despite being an omen. Because of the care and consideration born from Boros seeing Morgott not as an omen, but as Godfrey’s son.

As a friend.

A strained whine came from Fenris and Morgott looked down at the chains once more. They would torment her, plague her until she finally obeyed their encoded orders. And since he held a Great Rune, Fenris would be forced to turn against him.

The fact that she had lasted this long so close to him spoke volumes to the strength of her will. The lengths she would go to uphold her oath to him.

The healing incantation came to mind before he could stop himself. He placed a hand on Fenris’ side, golden light imbued with the intent to soothe, to heal, rolled out over her in waves from the point of contact and Morgott saw the tension in her body relax.

Yet the chains remained.

“…Do not start,” Morgott snapped at Boros. “This will take time to unravel.”

“Grace isn’t supposed to act like this,” Boros commented. “Something isn’t right about any of this.”

“…Tis another of mother’s machinations,” Morgott admitted. “Fenris is the first wolfborn to walk these lands in eons, t’would make sense for mother to use the strength of the wolf’s blood.”

“So you agree with this?” Boros replied accusingly.

“I said no such thing,” Morgott growled back as he poured more power into the healing spell. “Merely that with the tarnished clearly failing to secure the throne, Fenris was chosen, a being that could be bent to her will by the guidance of grace.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it...” Boros stated strongly. “Why do this when you’re right here doing everything you can to protect her?”

“Thou knowest why,” Morgott gave Boros a stern look, he didn’t have the time, nor energy to argue. “All we can do is wait for father to return.”

Boros muttered another obscenity, clearly directed at Queen Marika.

“Wilst thou cease with thy foul language…Tis unbefitting of a knight.”

“Everything is falling apart, you’re the only one with enough sense to do anything about it but continue to let things go to shit because you care more about the damn tree than your own people!” Boros shot back.

His focus on the spell wavered, the incantation flickered out. The accusation stung, but he knew, deep down he knew Boros was right.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Get out…”

Boros, tight-lipped, turned on his heal and marched out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Morgott felt drained. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had argued due to their differing opinions. But to have things so strained between them was starting to take its toll on him.

The slight shifting of Fenris’ armour had looking down to see she seemed to be regaining her senses and trying to sit up.

“Stay still, Knight Fenris,” he instructed. “Thou hath been through an ordeal that will take time to recover from.”

That only spurred her to continue, Morgott stood and stepped back to give her room since it was clear she would not be content to just lay about.

Her helmet was pulled off with a gloved hand and dropped beside her as Fenris reached into the pouch attached to the belts around her waist and pulled out a healing flask.

“That will do ye little good,” Morgott warned again as Fenris downed the flask’s contents. “What ails thee is not cured by healing draughts and spells alone.”

She turned to him as she put her flask away. Her grey hair, reminiscent of the very wolves she hailed from, was scruffy, reached went down her neck, and tucked behind her ears. Large yellow eyes, the left unfocused—blind he noted, looked up at him in confusion.

He gestured at the chains still wrapped around her. “Thine bindings, do they not burn?”

She shrugged. She didn’t seem particularly concerned now that the pain seemed to have receded.

Morgott walked over to his desk where he was working before Fenris had been brought to him, opened a drawer to grab one of many empty notebooks, and returned to Fenris to give her the tome to write in.

She perked up at the offer and pulled out a wooden box from her pouch. Within was all manner of writing implements, from the largest, and likely enchanted crow’s feather Morgott had seen, to calligraphy equipment more common in The Land of Reeds, to even metal implements to carve into stone or clay.

His guess on the quill was proven correct as Fenris grabbed it and flipped the notebook open to an empty page to write without the need for an inkwell, the book tilted towards him. He was once again impressed with her dedication as she her writing remained neat even with the speed at which she wrote.

They burn, but whatever you have done has eased the pain considerably.

She bowed her head towards him in thanks.

He nodded in respect, her gratitude, though expected, was something he was unused to. He focused on the golden links wrapped around her arms. “T’was only a healing incantation…”

A voiceless scoff met his ears, followed by the sound of her scribbling away in the book.

The book was gently placed within his sight once Fenris was done.

It was enough to regain my senses. I admit I have been plagued by the pull of this thing since I awoke.

“So, thou hath some inkling as to the curse that now binds thee?” Morgott asked and took a seat by the edge of his nest. It would not do to have these chains continue to be a threat, lest they turn Fenris into one of the many emboldened fools he sought to keep away from The Erdtree.

He had grown somewhat fond of the bloodhound knight over the short time she had been put to work scavenging the Limgrave countryside for resources. He had, in what little idle time he had, found himself reading through Boros’ reports on the useful and bizarre things she had brought back to the outpost. The dragon, delivered in pieces, was still fresh in his mind, along with the several rune bears, the pelts of some he had taken for the bed she now sat upon. She was certainly an efficient hunter.

More scribbling filled the calm, quiet silence as Morgott’s recollections of those same reports sent a shard of guilt and regret through him. He had acted poorly, Boros was perhaps as—if not more—worried about Fenris than he was.

Morgott would not apologize for his stance on protecting The Erdtree, it was all he was good for after all, but he would apologize for snapping as he had. Boros was only trying to help, he knew.

But Morgott was not in need of help beyond what Boros already did for the capital. They both had their own duty, and Boros could happily drag Morgott’s father into his restoration project once Lord Godfrey returned.

It would be better that way, restore the land with the one that helped build it, not with the cursed, castoff son unworthy of such holy lineage.

Morgott was drawn back to the present when Fenris yipped at him, the notebook held out towards him.

He accepted it and read the passage she had written.

It is trying to suppress my Oath as a Bloodhound Knight, the very bond that binds you and I. As my Lord, I have sworn to uphold your will, follow your orders, and this purpose acts as a surrogate to the bonds once held with my Legion.

Though not all Bloodhound Knights are also wolfborn, the training and practice of we Hounds began with wolfborn. And so, the bonds of family and kindred souls bound by blood are altered to better allow a Hound to serve their chosen Lord.

This curse is in direct conflict with my Oath to you, My Lord. But your presence, your own power has given me enough strength to resist it.

“Yet it still pains thee,” Morgott commented as he looked up from the page and Fenris nodded solemnly. “It drives thee to seek Great Runes even now…One of which is in my possession.”

Fenris looked stricken, horrified at the implication that she would be driven to fight him. That look shifted, eyes focused on the Hound’s bindings, as sharp focus dominated Fenris’ features.

Morgott watched with rapt attention as he felt the beginning wisps of some foreign power stir from within the wolfborn. Watchful, and morbidly curious to see if Fenris had some manner of handling this herself.

Wolfborn had been gone from The Lands Between for many an age after all, they would have broken their shackles somehow.

A dark red aura rose from Fenris, and the scent of ash and blood filled the air. Morgott tensed at the sight of embers as the blood-soaked ash latched onto the golden chains.

“If thou art set aflame, I will throw thee out of mine chambers and into the city reservoir.”

Fenris shook her head, still focused, and the ashen aura receded. It sunk back into the Hound and dragged the chains down with it.

Morgott did not move until Fenris broke her concentration, the aura had faded, and the last of the embers had vanished. He was already on his feet when he remembered that Boros would not be happy to see him.

But he needed to be informed of Fenris’ condition regardless. With a sigh he walked over to where his cane was leaning against the wall.

“Thou art to remain here, I have matters I must attend to,” he intrsucted and Fenris nodded. He made his way to the door, staff in hand, and turned to face her. It looked as if the curse had been quelled for the moment, but he wanted to be sure before he left. “…I assume the immediate danger to us both has passed?”

She nodded firmly, a determined glint in her eye that gave him pause. He wondered why the Hound had chosen him to serve. He was not worthy of the burden of leadership, not worthy of the very mantle he had donned to protect The Erdtree to begin with.

But that was a puzzle he could ponder some other time. For now, he would inform Boros of Fenris’ health, and apologize for his harshness.

“I will return shortly,” he said, hesitance and worry niggling in the back of his head. “…Take the time to rest, as I have said, thou hath been through an ordeal this day.”

With his orders given, he left in search of his advisor and most loyal of knights.

#lordless au #elden ring #morgott the grace given #tarnished

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Meanwhile...

(Here’s a fun little snippet I wrote on a whim...Sibyl is skulking around and visits an old friend.)

In the dead of night, a lone confessor slipped into Murkwater Cave. She side stepped the simple traps and crept into a side tunnel and into a clearing in which a campsite had been set up.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” the bald man at the campsite said at the sight of the confessor. “And where have you been?"

The confessor shrugged. "Around, who the fuck is Tanith?"

"None of your bloody business!"

"So, you like her then?"

"Oh piss off!"

"Punted anyone off a cliff lately? Maybe she'll like that..."

"Oh yeah? And how much fun are you having pretending to be an oh so devoted and religious confessor? You hate blind faith almost as much as I do, Lady Sibyl."

"...It's nice to see you here, Patches."

"Well of course, always more fools running about! Good to see you too by the way, want to buy anything?"

"Got any mead?"

"Maybe. How much are you willing to pay?"

#lordless au #patches the untethered #bloodborne hunter #elden ring

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Chained by Grace

(And here's the other part of Spells and Claws. This chapter sort of ballooned into what it is now, but I'm glad I got it done.

Enjoy.)

Melina had seen countless tarnished over the years she spent in search of one fit to take the throne, the one capable enough of bringing her to the foot of the erdtree and had in turn, a good understanding of how the guidance of grace was supposed to work.

The very fact that it was somehow different for the tarnished Bloodhound Knight was worrying. This worry compounded further as she could see Fenris move tensely, hampered by pain as she led the sorcerer down the narrow, broken wooden path into the abandoned waterway at the bottom of the castle.

She had noticed grace interacted with Fenris differently than it di for other tarnished. Capable of seeing how different magics and energies moved and interacted with the world, Melina had observed the steadily tightening hold grace had over Fenris the closer she had gotten to Godrick and the Great Rune he held.

The Guidance of Grace was not supposed to harm those it was given to, this much Melina knew as her tarnished friend nudged half-eaten rat carcasses aside as Rogier followed her down.

The ground was covered in white lilies with black stems, their petals glowing faintly in the fading daylight. And Melina could sense the power in them, power born from the rune of death and almost peaceful in the way it danced around and away from Rogier.

Yet that same power gravitated towards Fenris, enveloping her like an old friend. And as the duo moved through the rubble, Fenris stopping to kill the scarab somehow still alive in a place where even the rats had been feasted upon, Melina hoped that whatever was plaguing her tarnished companion would be soothed by the deathbloom tree no doubt growing n the heart of this garden.

It was all she could hope for.

“Well would you look at that!” Rogier exclaimed as the pair reached a ledge that overlooked a large open space. “The Grave Grimm here really has been busy.”

In the middle of the clearing, covered in claw marks and chunks having been bitten out of it, was the long dead body of an ulcerated tree spirit.

“The grave grimms are unique in that they only attack those that attack them, or the deathbloom tree first,” Rogier explained as walked up to the body to inspect it. “They’ll shrug off anything you throw at them and won’t stop until you’re either dead or chased off. Ferocious creatures, but harmless so long as you keep your distance.”

Fenris tugged on his sleeve and Melina saw the stagger she tried to hide.

“You can leave now if you wish. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own,” Rogier said reassuringly. “We’ve both got what we wanted after all, and you’d best get the treasure to your master…”

A pained whine erupted from the inside of Fenris’ helm as the Hound scrambled away from the sorcerer and haphazardly walked further down the waterway.

And Melina followed, she could only watch in dread, helpless as Fenris yowled in pain, body poised to lash out at nothing as thin golden chains erupted from her chest and weaved themselves around her arms and legs, to coil around her neck, and Melina was reminded of the chains that once bound other races in service to The Golden Order.

That Fenris’ own people were treated no better than wild dogs.

Rogier finally caught up and stood paralyzed as Fenris strained against her new bonds, her attempts to pry the golden bindings off her had her scrabbling at her arms and legs, clutching at the golden links around her neck to no avail.

A red glow emanated from the confines of her helm, and a dark red aura soon suffused Fenris’ body as she struggled harder. Fenris became frantic and tore off her gauntlets, only for the chains to phase through them and tighten all the more around her.

This is not grace. Melina thought as Fenris fell to her knees, a choked whine rattling out from beneath the metal helm. This is torture.

To her surprise, Fenris’ spirit ashes, her Legion, appeared around the Hound. One moved to stand between Fenris and Rogier, while the other three descended upon the weakened wolfborn and added their own efforts to free her of the chains.

She had been able to turn a blind eye to the suffering of the misbegotten, the curse of the omen, the enslavement of the demi-humans, and even the treatment of the tarnished warriors that lived, died, and were discarded in droves. The Elden Ring needed repair, the road to reach it would not be easy and would be one of joy and sorrow in equal measure.

It was one thing to see the suffering of the masses as a necessary evil, a sacrifice for the betterment of the world and the future as a whole. But here? Now?

Melina, unable to so much as offer her tarnished friend a word of comfort without the presence of a site of grace, prayed that Fenris be granted mercy.

She prayed, even as the three warriors of the Farron Legion were thrown off Fenris and a tortured, monstrous scream came from the knight.

Melina prayed as Fenris collapsed to the ground and curled up, body drawn tight like a bowstring from her continued suffering.

The spirits seemed to be as powerless as she was as they stepped back and took up positions around the defenceless knight to guard her instead.

Rogier was still frozen in shock.

The grave grimm was nowhere in sight.

And so, Melina prayed.

The sound of groaning wood filled the air as one of the roots of the deathbloom tree extended upward. The tip of the root bulged outward and formed into the shape of a lantern which glowed with purple light.

Fenris visibly relaxed as the newly grown lamp hummed.

Rogier rushed forward, heedless to the way the spirits drew their greatswords and daggers in a defensive posture. The mage approached the newly grown lamp, pale blue magic dancing around his hands.

“These are portals,” he explained hurriedly. “With this I can send her somewhere else, somewhere safe…Do you know anyone that can help her, I’m afraid I know nothing about treating wolfborn.”

A spirit retrieved Fenris’ map and showed him the location of Boros’ outpost at The First Step.

Melina readied herself to materialize at the grace site as Rogier nodded and began casting. As Fenris and her Legion were whisked away, she felt herself being pulled with them.

Boros stood from his seat by the supply crates and Melina willed herself into a visible form by the light of the grace site.

Boros marched over and knelt over Fenris as he inspected the chains. “This looks like a curse…” The healing incantation he cast simply rolled off Fenris. Boros swore as it looked like nothing he could do would help. “Do you have an idea what might be wrong?”

Melina thought back on the doubts Fenris had expressed. The knight had shed some light on what it meant to serve a chosen Lord when she and Melina had made their accord, the strength of runes in exchange for passage to The Erdtree.

Melina also remembered Fenris first coming across her Lord and noticed the golden light in which he appeared for the projection that it was.

“The Oath Fenris has sworn to Margit is weaker than it should be,” Melina explained. “Bloodhound knights bind themselves to their chosen Lord upon swearing loyalty to them. From my understanding, it is a symbiotic relationship between Lord and Hound, the Oath between them granting the Hound focus and strength of will in exchange for serving their Lord.”

Margit’s reluctant acceptance of Fenris’ service, coupled with the distance between them, had clearly put more strain on Fenris to serve, to earn her Lord’s trust and cement her Oath to him.

“So, you’re saying Margit has a duty of care to her, just as the little wolf has a duty to serve him?” Boros asked.

“I’m not quite sure on the details, but I believe that to be the case.”

“At the very least Margit is more skilled at incantations than I am, he may know of some way to sort this out,” Boros said and carefully picked her up. “I’ll take her directly to him.”

The spirits of the Legion nodded, some bowing in gratitude, and they dismissed themselves.

“I will return soon,” Melina said. “There is…something I must see to before I can return to her side.”

With a respectful nod, Melina returned once more to her formless state, unseen as Boros cradled Fenris in one arm and reached out to the site of grace with the other.

Melina, bound as she was to Fenris by their accord, had no choice but to follow as Boros teleported. The outside world shifting into pale stone walls, the interior of the royal palace. Light, life flooded her senses and Melina stumbled into the nearest wall as breathed for the first time in ages.

She pulled her hood over her head and hurried down the hall. Though she now had her body, the change felt hollow, she was so close to the Erdtree, she was in the very heart of the capital, but it didn’t feel right.

Fenris did not escort her here as promised, it was not a well-earned reward, it was merely a consequence of Boros taking Fenris to Margit.

Melina was lost in thought as she walked down the corridor, conflicted on what she should do now that she had a flesh-and-blood body again. Fenris was still in need of the strength of runes, and no one was any closer to repairing the Elden Ring.

She had accepted the fact that Fenris would more than likely never take the throne and had grown to enjoy her time with the Bloodhound Knight, as Fenris had insisted Melina be the one to ride Torrent and follow Fenris as the Hound raced across the countryside.

It was oddly liberating, though she lacked a true body at the time, Melina had found it fun to ride alongside the tarnished wolfborn.

It was a strange friendship the two of them had, Fenris without a voice, and Melina without a body. And in the quiet of the night, Melina would take in the written words, Fenris’ silent voice on anything and everything the knight had to say.

She found herself wanting to remain in Fenris’ company.

With her head down, unused to having a physical presence in the world, Melina was pulled from her thoughts as she collided with something.

A pair of arms reached out to steady her and she looked up at the person she had bumped into. An older woman in a dark blue dress that stopped at her ankles, her blond hair tied back in a bun.

“Are you alright dear?” the woman asked as she prevented them both from tumbling to the floor, and the bright red broach pinned to the woman’s collar caught Melina’s eye.

She was certain she’d heard someone mention that broach somewhere before, but could not remember where she heard it.

“Y-yes, my apologies,” Melina said, embarrassed at her lapse in attention. “I was lost in thought.”

“Is there something the matter?” the woman asked. “You look troubled.”

“I—” the words caught in her throat, indecision, worry all made her tongue feel like lead. Melina frowned, she was usually more articulate than this. “I find myself troubled by many things as of late…”

“I see,” the woman replied and laid a hand on Melina’s shoulder comfortingly. “My name is Viola, and if you need guidance, or even advice, I’d be happy to lend an ear.”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you…the matter is complicated.” Melina said.

Viola smiled reassuringly. “My Husband is a member of The Night’s Cavalry, and I’m a Finger Maiden for one of King Morgott’s most respected Knights, trust me dear, I am well acquainted with complicated matters.”

“You’re…A Finger Maiden?” Melina found herself asking. Viola wasn’t in uniform and didn’t have the mannerisms of a Maiden of The Golden Order.

“I retired some years ago to be with my husband and raise our daughters, but with Sir Boros back in service, I volunteered to act as his Maiden when it was apparent he had none,” Viola explained and gently ushered Melina to the side and out of the way of some passing guards. Viola noticed Melina’s surprise at hearing the woman worked with Boros. “I see you’ve met the honourable knight then?”

Still having some trouble with finding her words, Melina nodded. Now she remembered, Boros had shared a few tales about his Finger Maiden, particularly the one wherein a rat had stolen a large red broach and Boros had scrambled to retrieve it because the crucible knight did not want to earn the ire of her overprotective husband.

“Well then, why don’t we head to his office, I’ll put on some tea, and you can tell me what’s bothering you hm?” Viola suggested. “I promise it will stay between you and me.”

Melina was grateful for the offer, torn between ascertaining her purpose and returning to Fenris, the prospect of some unknown third option was reassuring.

“Thank you…I have not found myself in need of guidance before now, and the notion is rather daunting.” Melina said and bowed her head in gratitude.

“Everyone needs guidance at some point, there’s no shame in reaching out for help.”

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished #sorcerer rogier #melina

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Spells and Claws

(The follow-up to New Objective! Fenris "sneaking" into Stormveil Castle to retrieve the Mimic Veil. Had to split this adventure into two parts for narrative reasons.

I hope you enjoy.)

The “Guidance” of Grace was relentless as Fenris traversed Stormveil Castle. It pulled her at her already strained focus, and the close proximity of the shardbearer had made its once benign nudges into painful pulls that had her battling it as much as she was fighting the castle’s inhabitants. A ceaseless drive, an ambition she wanted no part of, trapped as she was in its golden grasp.

An ache was forming in her limbs from its relentless attempts to steer her towards its desired path, all the while she barrelled through the side path that had offered to her, leaving bodies and carnage in her wake.

Her heartbeat almost drowned out all sound, the destruction she left in her rampage was the only balm that soothed the conflict between Grace and her Bloodsworn Oath, a determined bloodlust fuelled by her goal of obtaining the stolen Mimic Veil for her Lord.

Fenris felt too warm in her armour as she clambered along the rooftops, turned sharply at the sound of armoured footsteps, leapt onto the unsuspecting banished knight below, and tore into them with her claws.

The knight, taken by surprise, was pinned to the ground by her impact, and was felled before they could shake her off. The foot soldier that was with them fared no better as they tried in vain to run and Fenris used her natural swiftness to chase them down and rend them asunder.

She still felt too hot as she wiped the blood off her claws and used part of the dead soldier’s uniform to clean the smudges of blood from her helmet. The outside world looked too bright, and she swore she could hear a voice just on the edge of her hearing.

Fenris removed her helmet and took a gulp of air, fresh air cool against her feverish skin, and ducked in a large room at the end of the bridge.

The darker room was a welcome respite, bookshelves line the walls, and to her right was what looked to be some sort of chapel.

She stumbled in, ignored the man standing in the corner and sank into the nearest seat.

Something was very wrong, the clash between her blood and her grace was wearing away at her, and her Oath to Margit was fraying with the strain. She wracked her already exhausted mind for any possible reason why her oath was so frail.

“Excuse, are you alright?”

Fenris looked up to see the mage in the wide brimmed hat was watching her with concern.

She shrugged.

“The guards get a few lucky hits?” he guessed. “I know I had a few close calls myself.”

He tipped his head towards her politely. “The name’s Rogier, I’m here in search of something. What about you? I doubt a tarnished is in service to Godrick.”

She snorted and pulled out the simple sketch Boros had drawn of the item she was looking for and showed it to him.

“Oh I see, here on behalf of your master are you?”

Fenris nodded.

“Perhaps we can help each other then?” Rogier asked and she gestured for him to elaborate. “You see, somewhere in this castle in a Death Garden—you can see signs of it all around the place. If you would be so kind as to help me study the garden, I’ll show you where that treasure is kept/”

She wondered how he had to come to learn of the location of the veil and tilted her head to one side in confusion.

“Ah, in my initial scouting, I overheard a few of the servants gossiping about it,” Rogier replied. “Apparently, Lord Godrick would force some of the less fortunate servants to wear it and dine with him as if they were his wife.”

The mere image disgusted her. Rogier looked o share her sentiments.

“I know, disgraceful, isn’t it? Well my friend, do we have an agreement?”

Fenris pushed herself to her feet, the short rest doing nothing to quell the mounting pain and nodded as she kept her breathing under control.

Rogier looked her up and down, assessing her condition. “We can wait. I mean no offense, but you are quite pale my friend, perhaps we can wait until you are well enough to fight?”

She firmly shook her head. The sooner she got this done, the sooner she could leave this accursed place.

Rogier followed her as she shoved her helm over her head, dropped to all fours, and stalked out of the small chapel. “If you’re sure, luckily your treasure is on the way. Here, follow me.”

Fenris found Rogier to be a capable fighter as he guided her through the maze of a castle, his spells combined with her claws brought a swift end to any foe the pair encountered.

Even the banished knight that patrolled the elaborate dining room was stunned by one of Rogier’s sorceries long enough for Fenris to descend upon them in a vicious onslaught of curved claws. As the knight’s corpse crumpled under the weight of its armour, Rogier bounded over to a treasure chest in the far corner.

“Here, this is what you’re after isn’t it?”

Fenris ambled over, staunchly ignored the twinges of pain not even her healing flasks could ease and kicked the lip open with her foot. Within lay her prize.

She carefully picked up the peculiar veil and stored it away in her pouch. Fenris nodded her thanks to the sorcerer and motioned for him to lead the way.

“Right, now I haven’t quite located the Death Garden yet,” Rogier explained, a hand coming to rest on his chin in thought. “But from the way the deathbloom flowers are spreading, it’s more than likely somewhere further down, somewhere deep that hasn’t seen much traffic.”

Fenris distinctly remembered a ledge somewhere that led into what looked like an abandoned waterway or part of the castle’s sewage system. She tugged on Rogier’s sleeve.

“You have an idea where to go then?” he asked.

She nodded, a rough idea, as her navigation skills were sorely lacking, but she was certain she would be able to find the ledge again.

“Alright then, I’ll follow your lead.”

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished #sorcerer rogier

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: Death Garden

(So, this is an AU, and not just because the Tarnished is a Bloodhound Knight, other parties have influenced this world as well.

A reminder that this is set long before the events of my Timeless Heretic AU, the two AU's are in a shared multiverse.)

The Guidance of Grace pulled her towards the castle in Stormveil.

Fenris did her best to ignore it, no matter how uncomfortable it was, no matter how much the ceaseless urge to seek out shardbearers pulled and tugged at her Oath as a Bloodhound Knight.

“And what’s a Hound doing sniffing about? Here on request of your master?”

Fenris eyed the man in entwined gold and silver armour warily, he overlooked a small village, stone cottages all surrounding a small field of white lilies, glovewort, and a large, black tree in the middle of it.

The plants extended out towards the graveyard behind them, growing around headstones as if to decorate the graves of those who rested there.

Fenris shook her head to answer the man’s prior question, she had yet to find her chosen Lord, but she knew it wasn’t the man before her.

She caught movement from something in the field and the man caught her line of sight.

“That there is a Death Garden, an affront to The Golden Order, nothing more than a pretty plague upon the land,” he explained. “The people buried there are no longer fit for erdtree burial, tainted by deathbloom, and the place is guarded by a Grave Grimm that chases away any living soul that dares approach. Best to stay away.”

Fenris had travelled in this direction because she felt the familiar mark of her mentor’s power, a calming aura, one that dulled the Guidance of Grace, and followed the trail of Lunar Lilies that her mentor favoured to the person that stood before her.

Fenris promptly ignored his warning and loped towards the village and as she drew near, the form of a large, black dog came into view.

The beast had glowing blue pinpricks of light in place of eyes, large, curved claws much like her own weapon of choice, and prowled around the trunk of the black-barked tree. The Grave Grimm noticed her and approached her just as warily as she walked towards it.

There was no sign of aggression, no act to defend its territory, and as the creature padded up to her, it barked in greeting.

Fenris, naturally, barked back it. The dog circled her, curiosity alight in its glowing eyes. She could sense some sort of power present in the area, not unlike that present in her Legion.

The Undead Curse.

Yet here, it was different from that familiar curse, it held within hints of The Dream her mentor commanded, it was something both new and familiar and it settled into her. It blanketed her like The Dream once did during her training, like The Wolf’s Blood had done when she was a child.

The dog stopped in front of her, its blue eyes glowed red as a dark red mix of ash and blood flowed from its body and towards her.

An offering of power, an old rite once performed by her Legion, and later by her mentor. To take their blood and grow strong. For they were all bound by the same Wolf’s Blood, no matter how diluted or altered, their link remained. And the Grave Grimm too, was born of this same power.

Fenris recognized it for what it was, lingering essence of a Great Wolf. She stood up straight, brought her left hand and the claw it held, up to rest at her upper right arm, her right arm pointing out towards the creature.

Legion Etiquette.

And the blood flowed within her, the dog fading as its essence, its power, was absorbed to grant her strength different from the power of runes, but strength all the same.

She could hear her own heartbeat like a drum, she breathed deep as the last of her newfound power flowed comfortably in her and looked down to see a small black bud of some kind where the Grave Grimm had been.

“Well now, that’s interesting.”

She startled at the voice and turned around to see the armoured man had followed her.

“It appears you’re able to dispel those beasts somehow…” he mused. “You wouldn’t happen to be wolfborn by any chance?”

She nodded and removed her helmet. She tucked the helm under her arm, to show her face as proof. Her eyes and hair were a dead giveaway.

“I see,” he noted. “A colleague of mine theorized these Death Gardens might be tied to the wolfborn in some fashion, he’ll be glad to have a lead in his research.”

Fenris gestured for him to elaborate.

“Ah, where are my manners, I'm known as D. And my colleague and I are in the middle of unravelling the cause of these gardens,” D stated. “They may look beautiful, but they go against the natural order, they taint bodies meant to be taken by the Erdtree and sully the honour of The Golden Order as a result.”

Fenris didn’t really see what the problem was, the graves were undisturbed, there wasn’t any undead running about as far as she could tell. Whatever Lady Sibyl was doing with these gardens, they seemed harmless enough.

“Bodies are going missing,” D continued. “There have been reports of people, long dead and buried, walking about as if they were never buried within the Erdtree’s roots to begin with. This sort of heresy cannot be allowed to continue.”

He sounded passionate, firm in his stance and Fenris stepped to the side to hide the small bud from his sight.

“If wolfborn are somehow connected to this as my friend claims, then would you be willing to help us figure this out?” D asked. “These Deathbloom Trees are impervious to every incantation The Golden Order has thrown at them, and with your help, we may be able to find a way to rid the land of these abominations.”

Fenris shrugged, she didn’t want to make an enemy of The Golden Order, but neither did she want to disturb her mentor’s work.

“Just keep my request in mind, and should you find yourself in The Roundtable Hold, ask for Sorcerer Rogier and tell him D sent you,” D said. “He’ll be the one doing most of the research anyway, and he’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

Fenris nodded.

“Now then, I have matters of my own to attend to,” D said. “I spotted the mark of the centipede here in the village. Run along now, I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”

She respectfully nodded and put her helmet back, snatching up the deathbloom bud as she plodded away from D and slipped the thing into her pouch.

She had matters of her own to attend to, namely finding her chosen Lord.

#lordless au #tarnished #d hunter of the dead

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lordless-not-maidenless · 2 years

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Lordless: New Objective

(Oh look, plot!)

Fenris removed her helm to take in the cool night air.

Boros had taken to following Fenris via a projection. It was a calm night in Limgrave as Fenris scavenged for herbs, mushrooms, and other small things to send back to the capital.

And upon approaching a stone bridge that led to the eastern half of Limgrave, she stopped at the sight of the knight in black armour atop a veiled steed.

“That’s just the Night’s Cavalry,” Boros explained, giving the mounted knight a friendly wave. “They serve Margit, why don’t we—”

The intimidating knight urged his mount forward, polearm raised in a challenge.

“No.” Boros warned as Fenris recognized it for an invitation to a duel.

She leapt forward, claws in hand as she was eager to accept the challenge. And was stopped as Boros grabbed the collar of her armour and lifted her up off the ground.

“No.” Boros said again.

She whined in protest, arms and legs flailing as she tried to wriggle free.

“I know you’ve been bored lately, but that’s no reason to answer every challenge you come across,” Boros admonished and called out to his cavalry co-worker. “Henryk! Do you want his majesty to find out you’ve been picking fights with friendlies?”

The knight’s polearm was reluctantly returned to its owners back and the Night’s Cavalry turned his steed around to continue his patrol.

“Save the spars for off duty!” Boros chided and dragged Fenris back down the road they came. She whined again. “If you’re that restless, we go hunt some runebears.”

It wasn’t that she was just restless, it was that there was less and less for her to do. There was only so many times she could run around the countryside looking for mushrooms, herbs, and bits of debris small enough to use in the reconstruction effort.

She was losing track of time with the monotonous duty she’d been assigned.

When Boros finally set her down, she led him to a boulder and pulled out her chalk.

Has there been any word on a new assignment?

“Nope,” Boros said and at her resigned huff he shrugged. “I’ve tried asking on your behalf little wolf, even badgered the Grace-Given King himself, and for now you’re stuck on foraging duty.”

That news was not ideal, while she derived enjoyment from racing around and finding useful, and increasingly unexpected things to bring back, she knew full well she was being kept in the dark and out of the way.

A stark and constant reminder that Margit had only accepted her oath to serve him because she had bested him in fair combat. And while she had pushed aside her own feelings on the matter, a Hound would do as their Lord asked, it just wasn’t enough for her.

A duty given not out of trust, but out of obligation was something she could not stand, to be seen as a burden and kept out of sight was something that both upset her and frustrated her greatly.

And caught in this spiral of thought, she found herself writing out her thoughts before she had the time to second guess herself.

Would it be better for Margit to dismiss me from his service? Am I unfit to serve? Have I offended him in my persistence?

The worry, the doubt had been eating away at her for some time, but a Hound put the needs of their Lord before their own, and she had been prepared for that.

Or so she thought.

“Where is this coming from?” Boros asked and looked down at her, frowning in concern. “Are you alright?”

She pointed at her recently written message and shook her head.

Boros made a noise as he thought on what she had already told him and Fenris was expecting another harsh rebuttal.

“…Right, I know Margit can be…stubborn to put it lightly,” he eventually said. “And I know just the thing to get him to get him off his furry ass and actually put your skills to good use.”

She was honestly taken aback by the idea. After her admittedly dogged refusal to accept no one else as her Lord, she had assumed her outburst in written form would be shrugged off and she would be reprimanded.

It was what she knew with how she served in her first life.

“Well, if this has been bothering you for a while, I see no reason to not try another approach,” Boros replied. “He may not show it, but Margit does care about those under his command, you’re his knight, not a slave expected to just put up with whatever work he gives you.”

She didn’t understand, Margit was both her Lord and her superior. Would it then make sense that she should try and keep her opinion to herself?

Not that she could now, but she wasn’t used to being listened to. She didn’t know how to handle Boros being considerate towards her.

He seemed to catch on as she stood there helplessly. He leaned forward to rest a hand on her shoulder. “You need something, you tell me. It’s part of my job to keep an eye out for what people need, and that includes you.”

She nodded, wide-eyed at the fact that while what he said was technically true, his job had more to do with the citizenry and relaying orders from Margit or The Veiled Monarch than being her handler.

“We look out for each other,” Boros explained as he let go and stepped back. “If you’re up for it, there’s an item I’ve been meaning to retrieve for his majesty that might put you in Margit’s good graces.”

She gestured for him to elaborate.

“It’s somewhere in Stormveil Castle, Godrick ran off with it when he fled during The Shattering,” Boros said. “Been meaning to steal it back and trouble is, I’m a bit too noticeable if you catch my meaning, and the place is swarming with guards and tarnished hunters.”

She nodded.

“I bet you could get in and steal the Mimic Veil back no problem,” Boros suggested cheerfully with a grin to match. “You’re on the short side for a tarnished, and since you bested Margit in combat, I’d say the castle guards will be a breeze for you!”

She rolled her eyes at the reminder of her height.

“Well, up for a little thievery?”

She nodded, determined to truly win the trust of her Lord. If recovering a stolen item was what it took, she’d scour every nook and cranny of the castle.

“So long as you don’t disturb Godrick, everything should be fine,” Boros said. “And don’t worry about getting in hot water with Margit, he and I have been trying to track down the thing for a while, but I’m not meant for infiltration work, and he's too busy to really go looking for it himself.”

#lordless au #elden ring #tarnished

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