I do not own Odin Sphere or any of the lovely inhabitants of Erion.
I especially do not own this story, it is simply my interpretation of Gwendolyn and Oswald's grand tale. I will use all of the original game script, with extra scenes and re-imaging to describe and flesh out the full journey they took together in the game.
With a ghastly smile, Oswald ripped his sword through the tough hide of the fearsome dragon. Black armour rattled a victory chorus as the dark blood of the beast started to seep into the earth of the plateau beneath him. A plateau half hidden amongst the fog of cloud which was ever present at this altitude.
It was only he and the dragon on the cliff top, and soon to be only he alone. Surely the creature could take little more of the Belderiver's power? As if bidden by his thoughts, the jewelled sword in his hand flashed an angry red, and he felt the dark power it invoked tremble throughout his body.
The dragon lying at his feet let out a painful wheeze and its eyelids fluttered, armoured slits turning towards the dark knight, filled with neither hatred nor fear. Hindel was its name, and it knew there was no escaping this death, it had always known that.
"As I thought," said the dragon; scaled lips pulling back over sharp teeth, the mockery of a smile. "Trying to avoid ones fate is like trying to stop the stars."
The young man stood uneasily with his sword drawn, suspecting a trick. His white hair was tousled by the breeze, displaying the undercut of red at its base. He need not draw further on the dark power now; merely wait for the dragon to die.
Hindel laughed ironically, half choking on humour in its pain. "Not even those who see the future can keep from carrying out their fates."
Oswald frowned, lowering the Belderiver slightly. "Why were you holding back? I was open several times."
"Do not worry about me," drawled the dragon, "not at this late stage. Your Belderiver is a weapon without peer." His eyes glazed slightly as he looked up into the heavens. "My time is up. You must use my death to validate the claims of its power."
Oswald looked at the sword in his hand; it pulsed with the same energy which had filled him during their battle. It was a cold, merciless power, which called to him even now. He held it at bay as it sang for the dragon's death, clenching his free hand to maintain his self-control. Despite what he had done, and what he must do, he did feel pity for the creature.
As if reading his thoughts Hindel's teeth flashed in a caustic smile. "Take my head and announce your victory to the commander of the Fairies."
Melvin.
Oswald did not know how the dragon knew that his father had sent him, but the blame of this death lay elsewhere. "You should be aware that all of this was caused by that country… Ragnanival. But they did not hire me."
He turned from the dragon then, looking down on the kingdom in miniature below them. A country at war; the Aesir would destroy all of Erion if they could not be stopped, but they would destroy the Vanir first and foremost.
This death was justified, it must be; the power of the Belderiver must be proven so that he could fulfil his purpose. When Oswald spoke again, his voice was hushed. "My father specifically asked me to do this." The hand holding the Belderiver trembled ever so slightly to betray the regret of his actions, but his grip on it was strong.
Hindel wheezed again, his eyelids now nothing more than heavy weights obstructing his sight. "He is not your father," the dragon coughed. "Your real father is a man named Edgar."
Oswald snorted; his gaze leaving the façade of a peaceful nation below. The view from this standpoint hid the ravages of warfare which scarred the countryside. Instead, he glanced coldly over his shoulder, into the slitted eyes of the dying dragon.
"That means nothing," he spat, his tone acid. "That is just the name of a man who abandoned a baby." His expression softened slightly for a moment, but the lure of the Belderiver soon hardened it again. "Melvin is my only father. Even though I am a human he has raised me as his own."
The dragon shuddered, its eyes dimming. "Do not forget that... when the time comes."
The young man frowned, irritated at the prophetic pretence. "You talk as if you know everything. Let me cease your tongue's flapping," he hissed. He felt the darkness gather with his anger.
"Shadow master who threatens the darkness..." Hindel's eyes were silver blinded and sightless as he spoke. His voice was a feeble quivering as he forced his prediction upon them. "Seek the bird."
Oswald's hand tightened around the Belderiver, its urgent pull compelling him to let the darkness take over. The rage behind his eyes blinded him, with only this minor catalyst he could feel his humanity slipping away as that dark presence towered above them. If only the dragon would cease this babbling and die.
"…That shall be your destiny," croaked Hindel.
Oswald's fury exploded.
The shadow washed over him, burning like a furious flame as his sword pierced through that same darkness, a blade of his anger. He felt it uncoil as he stepped atop the dragon's neck to silence it forever. The creature closed its eyes and spoke no further, but it was too late for silence now. There was enough of him left to make a quick end of it, some sense of humanity remained as he plunged his blade into the dragons soft neck muscles.
As the creature sighed a death rattle, the shadow slipped away again, and he swayed at the loss of it; feeling weak and crippled as he returned to his human form. Hindel was dead.
The Belderiver still glowed temptingly in his hand.
He was filled with a bitter distaste for his loss of self and the unpleasant task he had just completed, but turned that self-disgust outward. "Hmph," he snorted, lowering his weapon with a scornful smirk. "It is as Melvin said."
He stepped down from the dead dragon's neck, the dull clunk of his armour now eerily loud atop the silent plateau. His gaze returned to the country laid out before him, and he turned his blade towards it. "As long as I have this Belderiver even the dragons shall fear me."
It was a long journey down Horn Mountain and back into Ringford, but an unburdened one. He did not take the dragons head. Some guilt over the life he had taken had remained, and it had turned his stomach at the thought of desecrating the corpse. He had killed hundreds, perhaps even thousands of the Aesir on the raging battlefield he now navigated, his hands were forever stained with blood, but they were not the innocents that great beast had been.
The troops of Ragnanival were a blight: they had brought war to the borders of Ringford, but only after they had realised the kingdom was weakened and divided by the war between the fairies and dwarves. Now Ringford itself was peaceful again, but its inhabitants were trapped inside those country borders as the Aesir struggled to invade them. They now only left their borders in aid of the war effort at the battlegrounds beyond the forest.
The dark power of Oswald's blade chilled him, and even now he slipped through the battlefield shadows silently, hoping to go unnoticed on his flight back to Ringford. Simply to be prevented from the need to draw it again. It was possible his father would be angry that he had not brought Hindel's head with him, but somehow he doubted Queen Elfaria would be thrilled to receive such a gory trophy, no matter what its procurement might prove.
Finally, he slipped under the cool canopy of trees along the border of their territory. The forest was its own form of defence, but even so Oswald felt that his presence going undetected by his own people was a concern; if he could penetrate their borders, then why not the Aesir? True his power was fearful, but they had their own champions: The mighty Demon Lord, Odin, King of Ragnanival, and Odin's witch. The pair were legends amongst the fairies, he had heard many tales of their fearful might in battle although he had never witnessed it for himself.
As if to allay his fears, a unicorn knight stepped from beneath the shadow of a great tree and challenged him.
"Who passes here, be they friend or some doomed soul?" The unicorn gnashed his teeth, recognising him instantly as he stepped into the light. "Doomed indeed, but not an enemy… for now. What are you doing out here shadow knight?"
Oswald halted before him. "I have returned from my mission, I seek Melvin."
The unicorn snorted, glaring at the Belderiver. "You stink of death."
"Yes, we are at war, we all stink of death."
"You were born with death on you human; this is not your place."
Oswald felt the sword at his side thrum with energy, but reined back the dark urge to draw it. "My father is here; my place is with him, serving. Until he tells me to go I will not. Now, will you tell me where he is, or shall I forge a bloody path to his side?"
The unicorn let out a nervous huff and stepped back ever so slightly. "You are all bluster, you would never raise a hand against the Vanir, the stain on your father's name would be too great."
"Indeed," agreed Oswald. "But the Belderiver is a weapon without equal, and a weapon beyond control, at times. I would not strike you willingly, but my control might slip should you continue to deny me passage."
Begrudgingly, the unicorn stepped back into the shadow of the tree, once again opening the space into lane which led to the castle gardens. "Go then, and leave your accursed power unsated. Melvin seeks an audience with the queen, you will find him in the castle."
Oswald observed the unicorn momentarily for signs of subterfuge but found no lie in his actions. He had made no friends amongst the fairies, as a human he was not considered much better than the Aesir to the people of the forest. Since taking the dark power of the Belderiver he had made enemies though, he was feared. It was only a matter of time before someone acted against him, better that he was prepared to evade attack than be forced to counter it, putting both he and his father in a tenuous position.
Following the path he stepped out into the Ringford Gardens. As always it was perpetual twilight here. Moon blossoming flowers were boasting soft glowing orbs at their centre, reflecting the mother light above them in the starlit sky. The soft, pastel colours of this illumination were of every spectrum imaginable, and their brilliance bounced off the trees which sheltered them in a pageant of ethereal beauty. It created such a spectacle that Oswald stopped to drink it in, as he found he did each time he entered the gardens, struck anew by the splendour on each visit.
Remembering his task he moved onward, in a hallowed place such as this even the Belderiver seemed to sleep. What blasphemy that the Aesir thought to invade here. He stepped into the castle entrance and watched as nearby fairies and dwarves alike turned away from him with fear and disgust written on their faces. Resolute he cut a path towards the throne room, this reception no different to what he usually met upon his return. He found he father before he needed to enter the room, pacing restlessly outside of the door.
"Oswald," he greeted
He bowed to his father, and the commander of the fairies gave him a dazzling smile. The lack of blood relation between them was instantly obvious to any onlooker. Melvin was light where Oswald was dark, his hair a cascade of pale gold curls, tall and lithe with an inhuman, otherworldly beauty about him. He moved with measured grace, every action weighed and considered before it was taken. It was his wings which clearly drew the line between them, though, the glasslike dragon fly appendages which fanned from his back, glossy and crystal-like. This marked him as fairy, as its lack marked Oswald as other.
"Melvin, I have completed my task."
"Welcome back Oswald, this is excellent timing. I am on my way to Elfaria now. Walk with me."
Oswald fell into step besides his father, ignoring the stares of the castle inhabitants.
Melvin glanced over at him, perplexed. "What have you done with the head? If you have done as I asked then surely you must have it, you did kill the dragon?
Oswald hesitated, regretful to shame his father. "I have not returned with it. Hindel lies dead at my hand, but I have not brought the proof you requested. I… I apologise."
His father gave an irritated huff. "Well, never mind then. The proof will have to be your word, the Belderiver has exceeded all that we have hoped for then. Brom must be praised for the birth of this creation."
Oswald wondered briefly it the dwarf creator was aware of the dark nature of the weapon. He knew it was his father's desire to have the sword mass produced, and shuddered inwardly at the thought of the dark army it would bring about. They were at war, however, and sacrifices must be made.
The two men stopped in the doorway of the hearing chamber and Melvin knocked twice on the large oak door. The sprawling luminescent marble surrounding the door, and which made up the winding halls of the castle, made Oswald's eyes water. He felt out of place here, dressed all in black armour, a stain on this pristine place.
"Melvin."
Both men turned to see the queen of the fairies approaching from behind them; it seemed she had not been in the audience chamber as Melvin had expected. Oswald bowed low, paying his respects to his queen. Melvin did not, he was her brother and his rank and family ties allowed such exceptions.
"Greetings, Queen Elfaria," he smiled. "I thought you would be waiting within," he indicated the door to the chamber they had stopped before.
"There was something I needed to attend to: my daughter has been causing some uproar amongst her tutors." Elfaria returned his smile with a rueful one of her own, but even so, she was glorious.
Her kinship with Melvin was obvious: she had every facet of his quiet grace and the same long, golden curls spilling across her shoulders. Her dress was layered green silk chemise, slit heavily up one side to display the curve of a perfect leg. She was crowned with flowers, fresh and growing amongst her hair, and behind them stood the grandeur of her perfect butterfly wings. The intricate pattern of her swallowtail wing span was accented with hues of blue, pink and purple, which seemed to ebb with the same glow of the Ringford moon lilies. She was not just beautiful though, she stood tall and proud, every inch a queen, with an air of authority and duty.
"I wanted to meet and bring you some news, but now that Oswald has returned I instead seek an audience to bring you hope for our victory."
"Glad tidings indeed," the queen answered, turning secretive eyes on Oswald. "What plan have you brought me to improve our struggles?"
Melvin's eyes became cunning, and he indicated for Oswald to draw his blade. Reluctantly, he did, feeling the strain of dark whispering as his hand clasped the handle.
"This is the strongest blade among all Psyphers," began Melvin, indicating the Belderiver in Oswald's hand. "It surpasses even the might of the Demon Lord's weapon, Balor."
Elfaria gave him a shrewd look, glancing doubtfully at the sword before her. "I have heard that the power of the sword is enough to ward off curses." There was a pointed look in Oswald's direction as she spoke, which Melvin followed with understanding.
"Hm!? Ah..." He turned to his foster son, tapping his top lip impatiently. "Good. Leave us, Oswald."
Oswald hesitated for a moment and then bowed to both parties, taking his leave, somewhat begrudgingly. Was he not to be party to the discussion because he had failed to bring back Hindel's head? Or was the queen also fearful of his dark power and uncomfortable in his presence? No, more likely he simply didn't have a high enough calibre to be privy to the discussion. There was little he could do about it; he must simply wait until Melvin summoned him to explain what the outcome of his proposal had been. If Brom could mass produce the Psypher weapons then the Vanir could easily win their war with the Aesir.
As if summoned by his thoughts, he caught sight of the dwarf Brom, standing in the passage way outside of the kitchens. He hurried to his side, glad to have found something to take his mind from the waiting.
"I did not think to find you inside the palace," he said, leaning over the dwarf. "Have you come to await the outcome of Melvin's talk with Queen Elfaria?"
Frowning, he noticed the little man looked perplexed, his eyes startled as he turned towards Oswald.
"What is it?"
Brom glanced around nervously, shuffling his feet and not meeting Oswald's eyes. "I am pulled in two directions at once," he admitted. "I fear I do not know what I have created, perhaps the cost is too great." He glanced furtively at the sword by Oswald's side.
"What are your concerns?" asked the young man, worried by the dwarfs odd demeanour. "Melvin will be finished with his proposal soon, can you not speak to him, surely he will hear you on any subject?"
The little man met his eyes for the first time, his face stony. "Melvin… Oswald, do not place too much trust in Melvin." The little man wiped his brow, his eyes pleading. "He thinks nothing of you."
Oswald felt his back stiffen, his spine felt like ice. His face was shuttered as he stared down at the little man who his father trusted implicitly, who was now telling Oswald that his father felt no affection for him. Surely only an assassin could strike his vulnerability so surely.
Brom must have noticed the change that came over him for his mouth became stubborn and he continued insistently. "Let me prove it-"
"Speak not of Melvin." Oswald hissed, hot anger licking down his veins. "I will not hear a word against him."
How dare this betrayer besmirch his father's good name? Proof? If there were such a thing Oswald would destroy it. How long had he lived in this nest of vipers now? He had always been alone; there had never been anyone whom he could trust, no one but his father. The man had given him a place to belong, not fit in perhaps, but belong, and he would be forever grateful. The affection Oswald felt for the dwarf took a great blow as he watched him sweat after his declaration.
Why would he say such a thing?
It was no so long since the dwarves had risen up against the fairies and eventually been overcome and enslaved, there had been disquiet amongst the race ever since. Now they were united as one people, but the residual hatred from their conflict remained. Was this some trace of that? A sliver of loathing that was now coming to a head? If they should seek to derail his father's plans he would strike them all down.
He felt the Belderiver surge with his anger and gritted his teeth, stifling his fury.
"I will take my leave," he grated, turning and almost running from the dwarf to stop himself from striking him down on the spot. If the little man called to his retreating back he did not hear him, his head filled with the thrum of the Beldriver's battle song.
Should he speak to Melvin of this? It was almost an embarrassment, as if asking Melvin to reassure him of his affections. No, he would not speak of it. Better to give the dwarf space to think on his mistake, perhaps only cowardice had caused him to speak such untruths. He knew the little man feared the mass production of such powerful weapons for their army would lead only to destruction.
Oswald stopped in a darkened corridor, his head spinning as he fought to regulate both his breathing and his control over the Belderiver. As he calmed, he realised he was not alone in the darkened space, but his presence had gone unnoticed. Two young fairies stood beyond the pillars he was shadowed by, deep in discussion.
"The Demon Lords daughters are evil," muttered the first one, tossing her hair. "They lead the Valkyries and eagerly slaughter all they face in battle."
The second fairy nodded, her eyes wide. "It is too much to expect us to fight against such fiends," she whispered.
Oswald sat, leaning against the pillar with his eyes closed, hoping to block them out. He had not meant to intrude on their whispered conversation. The people of the forest were afraid, this battle could not continue on forever, eventually Ringford would fall. Melvin was right, their best chance would be to mass produce the dark weapons and obliterate the Aesir entirely. What if Brom did not comply with the mass production?
He sighed, unwilling to think if such an unpleasant occurrence. There were other things for him to worry about, he had just overheard that the Demon Lord had daughters, plural, not a single daughter for the army to contend with. He had only known of the one they named 'Odin's witch,' was the other as formidable in battle? If only he should have the luck to one day to meet this witch on the killing field, she would find her glorious Valkyrie death in battle on that day. He swore to himself that if he ever had that chance to draw his blade against her he would make his father proud, and the Belderiver's foreboding red glowed with approval.