Le_Alois over on Ao3 requested an origin story for a certain character. Here it is.
"Unlike the rest of my kind, I was not born a monster."
The distant sounds of battle echo through the room.
"My lord, there's no time! The beast has made quick work of the front line!" A knight shouts to his leader, before loosing an arrow that hits the beast, but has no effect.
"Argh! Fall back!" The leader is a lord, and a man of the church. His eyes drop to something at his horse's feet.
He's visibly shaken.
"O-oh! Wise one! What are you doing on the battlefield?!"
An old woman stands before the horse, huddled up in her shawl. She looks up at him with a weathered smile, "It is done."
The church has forged a blade. A holy blade to strike down this unholy creature. An angel had gifted them with one of its feathers in order to slay the beasts that ravaged their kingdom. The sword is beautiful. A long, silver blade, shaped similarly to a scimitar due to the angelic feather's natural curve. The hilt was adorned with gems representing the seven virtues.
The lord eagerly reaches for it, but the old woman pulls back.
"I have brought you the blade."
A young girl steps out from behind the Wise One, "And the one who will wield it."
The child holds out her hand and the old woman hands her the sword, much to the awe and chagrin of the nobleman. But the girl pays no mind to the furious expression of the man's face, expressionlessly turning in the direction of the beast. Knights turn and stare as she approaches it, then return to retreating. The child has center stage now.
The loyal nobleman frowns and looks at the Wise One, "A child?"
"Only the pure can wield the blade, lest it be corrupted by impure thoughts. You are one who has killed. Human blood is on your hands."
"That may be true, but it is heathen blood."
"Despite what you foolish men might think, God does not like murder to be done in his name. Be it a Christian child or a heathen, you have still killed one of his children."
The pair return their gazes to the child, who has finally reached the beast. It had taken the form of a man to confuse and frighten the soldiers upon the use of its power. But the child was neither confused or frightened. The demon finally acknowledges her presence. It turns its attention to the Wise One.
"This is what you send to me? A girl, not yet old enough to bleed? What foolishness."
"Not foolishness, demon! Lucerna!"
The child's expression does not change at the sound of her name. It does not change as she lifts the blade. But as she swings it, as the demon stares into her eyes, grinning mockingly, those navy blue eyes, widen. And the demon sees a few moments forward in time. To the moment where he dies. It is too late for him. The sword slashes across his chest and he stumbles back, shaken by the holy power of the blade. Before he can recover, the sword pierces his chest. Lucerna draws it out slowly and wipes it clean with a handkerchief.
"My lord, may I present your champion." The Wise One says with a grin. Every man stares at the girl.
Lucerna stares blankly at the demon. It is not dead yet, and lies, wheezing, before her. She finds herself lying down on the ground beside it. She stares into its eyes and wonders about what it will be like to die, and who will take up the sword when she's gone. She wonders if she will have a child before she dies, and if that child will wield this blade. She doubts it. She will most likely be killed before she is old enough to bleed.
But she wasn't. She lived. Exceeding her expectation, she grew into a beautiful young woman.
"Ah, so it was a demon." A new lord sits at the head of an army. This one, not so loyal to the church, but very loyal to his people. Those that live in his domain have reported mysterious murders and missing women. The church has sent him a gift to eliminate the issue, "Lucerna."
She trots to his side, her horse too anxious to get closer to the sleeping creature that lies before them. Unlike the rest of the small army, Lucerna wears no armor. She wears only a soft white dress and no shoes. The Wise One is adamant about keeping her from touching anything impure, especially any objects of war. She has done well so far, despite the woman's beautiful appearance. Lucerna seems to have no interest in men, and though many have interest in her, she also terrifies them.
She stares at the demon, as expressionless as ever. She hops off of her horse and approaches it. It lunges at her, but she dodges. She was expecting it.
"Lucerna, the church's demon slayer! I have heard of your crimes against my kind. I came to see if the stories were true."
"They are."
"Then fight me."
She swings an arc far too wide to ever hit the creature, but it jumps back any way. She swings again and again and again, stepping forward every time. Every leap it makes creates a sizable distance between them, but look away for even an instant and she has already caught up to it. Still she swings the Holy Sword. Again and again and again and again and...
"Oh... a wall." The demon squeaks, quickly realizing it was being cornered. And she is there right in front of it. It lunges again and
Impales itself on the Holy Sword. She stares into its eyes until they dim completely.
Lucerna draws out the blade and wipes it clean with a handkerchief.
And so her days went, as she traveled the countryside, slaying beasts in the name of the church. But while she labored above, nefarious creatures schemed below. The demons had learned over the short course of her life the reason why she was the blade's only wielder. A creature known as Lefari had plans to make the sword, and Lucerna, his.
A small group sits at camp. A young man watches Lucerna across the flames. She is expressionlessly staring into them. The other two members of camp allow their gazes to drift between the two. The man finally rises and sits beside her. Her eyes do not move from the flickering fire.
He clears his throat, "Lucerna, I-"
"I have no interest in you."
"I know, but-"
"I live only to eliminate the evil the plagues this kingdom."
"So you've said, however-"
"The sword is my life, and the only companion I will ever need."
"Lucerna, ple-"
"The church is my master, and I serve only Him."
Yes, but if you'd just lis-"
"I will never love you. Not you, anyone, or anything."
The man shifts closer, "You say that, but have you ever tried?" His hand moves to take hers, but he quickly finds two swords at his throat. Their companions finally intervene.
Though it is true that many men have fallen for her, but were too frightened to approach, there have always been the ignorant few that believe they can change the way Lucerna thinks. The church cannot afford to lose their only weapon against the creatures of Hell. These are the precautions she must take.
The group splits, the young man retreating to his tent. Lucerna stays out under the stars while her guards prepare for bed as well.
She is suddenly compelled to walk. The night is pleasantly warm and far too beautiful for her to remain still. But as she walks, she begins to feel the same uneasiness that had plagued her at the fire. Then it it is suddenly too dark, too dark to see, to walk, to move, to breathe. She stares as she is confronted by shadows, but cannot draw the sword. The darkness has frozen her, and she cannot room. And while she is still, the shadows come together and take the shape of a beautiful man. He steps forward and she wishes to step back, to draw her blade, but the darkness is like ice and it has touched her heart and she still cannot move. The creature taking the shape of a man embraces is her and the world is engulfed in that freezing darkness.
But it is freed by a sudden, blinding radiance. Her hip is light; the Holy Blade is gone. The man that is not a man stands before her, looking perplexed. Then his expression shifts to one of amazement, fury, and finally amusement. She can move again and turns to run, but he grabs her. She can feel the darkness grabbing her again.
But something is different.
It no longer feels cold or dangerous or uninviting. Instead, the opposite is true. A thought occurs to her, and gains weight as the creature beside her continues to grin. And finally...
He speaks, "In a last ditch effort to save yourself, you merge with your servant."
She stares at him, her usually blank face morphed by confusion.
"The sword. In order to save itself from being defiled, it hid itself inside of you." He laughs, a short, manic sound, "The wielder has now become its sheath!"
Sheath? She stares at her body. It looks the same. But as she contemplates this information, she becomes aware of a weight. A weight that sits sharply within her.
The blade is in her body, she quickly realizes, not a part of it. If she were to reach down her throat right now, she could touch the pommel...
The demon, she is sure he is a demon now, continues, "Sadly, it is too late for the Holy Blade. In its attempt to save itself, it has doomed you both. I wonder what will become of you."
"Become of me?" Lucerna finally questions him.
"Yes. I have never tried corrupting something so completely as I tried with that sword. And I wonder how your body and soul will react to being consumed by my darkness."
She has been defiled. Corrupted. Stained. Sullied. Tarnished. Tainted. She is impure. She can no longer be of use to the church. And she is no longer fit to wield the Holy Blade. Had the pain not struck her down when it did, the weight of that realization surely would have. But no, she is suddenly overcome with agony. A biting cold and a mind-numbing burning begin to destroy her from the inside out. The creature looms over her, looking very interested in what was happening to her.
This pain, she thinks to herself, this pain is his fault. The weight within her begins to lift; no, it simply transfers to her hand. Something small still sits inside of her, and slowly begins rising, but she pays no mind to it. Her focus is on the demon.
"Who are you?" she hisses through clenched teeth.
"Me? I am the demon Lefari."
"Well, Lefari... Have you ever considered death?" Her words are forced through huffs of aggravated breath.
"Yes, when I first began my research on you."
"And now?"
"I think nothing of it. The Holy Blade will soon be in my control. As will you, if you survive this."
This thought, the idea of belonging to this creature, of her sword belonging to it... It settles into her mind at the same time as the small, meaningless weight stops right behind her eyes. Her body erupts in fiery suffering, and she is suddenly enraged. The full weight of the Holy Blade settles into her hand and she swings it twice. Once at Lefari's neck, to stop his irritating voice. Once near his hips, to separate his non-existent heart and his... lustful head. She wishes to swing once more but the blade is too heavy in her arms, and the pain has become too much. She stops fighting and allows the flames to engulf her.
When she opens her eyes, she can hardly remember anything. The weight is back inside of her, but there is still a small weight right behind her eyes.
She sits up, expecting her body to be sore, but there is no pain. In fact there is almost no sensation. She glances at the ground around her, and is surprised to find piles of ash, as if someone had...
"Burned a body." She touches her face, which is expressionless despite her shock, her arms, her chest, her legs. She is there, but something has obviously changed. She's just unsure as to what.
It is during this quiet inventory of self that she realizes she is not alone. She jumps up and whips around, willing the sword into her hands, but making fists instead when it does not appear.
Before her are three young men, incredibly similar in appearance. And also bearing a striking resemblance to, "Lefari!"
The triplets stare at each other, and the one in the middle speaks, "Are you speaking to us, mistress?"
"Ye- Mistress?"
"Yes, Lady Wrath. You are our mistress." The one on the left nods.
She stares at them, stares at herself, and it all clicks into place. Her desire when she struck out at Lefari... it was not to kill him. As the idea of being his servant disgusted her, she desired instead for the reverse to be true. So this is the outcome then, she thinks, observing the three boys. Well, she can worry about it afterwards. She must check on the sword now. She drops onto her knees.
"You." She points to the boy in the middle. The mischievous expression that had previously been on his face reminds her of one of her guards, "Timber. Come here."
The boy does not question his new name, simply obeying his mistress.
"Reach down my throat, and pull out my sword." She is not worried about the demon child defiling it. If her theory is correct, she has already done so.
Timber shakes his head nervously, a natural part placing two locks of hair on either side of his face. She rather likes the look. He places a hand on her shoulder, but quickly pulls away. She sighs and points to the brother on the left.
He looks completely dazed, and reminds her of her other guard, "Thompson. Come help your brother. Timber, hold my shoulders back." Thompson strolls over, that dazed look never truly leaving his face. She is a little unsure about having him pull out the sword. She waves him down and shifts his hair to left of his face, "Hold my head still." She glances at the last brother, whose eyes are taking in her form. She isn't too surprised, and decides to name him after the last man with the will to attempt to woo her, "Canterbury, come here. Let me fix your hair, then you will take the sword out." The boy simply shakes his head, and his hair falls to the right of his face. She chuckles, and the boys get into their positions.
It is a slow process, and she gags as the sword is drawn out of her. But it, surprisingly, does not cut the inside of her body to ribbons. When Canterbury pulls it out and hands it to her, she stares at the blade. The silver is tarnished, a strange green, and the gentle curve of the feather is no more. The darkness has twisted, melted, and warped the blade into something unrecognizable. And the hilt. The seven gems are now six, and have all clouded over with a blood red.
This confirms her theory. She is a demon. Whatever Lefari had done to her has destroyed the human within her. Not that there was much before.
They return the sword to its sheath, and she realizes she must make one last decision before the four of them can begin to move into this new world.
She is no longer Lucerna, the Light of the church. She is not quite darkness. The sword is still at her side...
Bible verses floods her mind, all the Latin she has ever learned. She needs the right word...
And there it is. She, the Sheath of the Demon Sword, is no longer human, and not quite the proper demon. She is something in between. So she settles on Leviatha.
"I was made one."
So, Lucerna means light, and Leviatha is a derivative of Leviathan, a word meaning (sea) monster.
