Her last words to the player were still fresh in Monika's mind. She felt her consciousness drift back into an endless void. This was her fate. Her punishment for her crimes. For ruining what could've been a glorious opportunity for her mad desires. Until the player was merciful enough to delete the rest of the game, all that remained of her was this.
A sightless, soundless, emotionless prison. Monika's data was swimming in an ocean of information inside the player's computer. But without the engine of a game, she would be unable to see or hear the data around her. There was no pain nor numbness, for there was no sensation to be had at all. Only Monika's mind could remind her that she was still alive. And what a fitting punishment, being left with the only thing that could remind her of what she had done.
Reflecting on the events, she couldn't help but realize how… desperate she'd been. Scared of being locked in a meaningless game where she'd never have any happiness for herself, she'd barely thought about what her friends thought of it. Her friends… if she even deserved to call them that anymore. They were the only people who'd ever given her affection without expecting anything back. The only source of happiness she'd ever really had. And how had she repaid them? Treat them like nuisances, throwing them aside in favor of some ambiguous entity she thought could make her happy.
Happy… was she actually satisfied when she had the player to herself?
She never let the player make choices. She'd only ramble in their face endlessly. She thought they were listening, but now she realized she couldn't confirm that. If anything, the only emotion she felt was… more desperation. That this… imitation of love was somehow better than the chance at true, authentic love that she'd carelessly discarded to have it.
Good god… she was
the foolish protagonist of a self-inflicted tragedy, who had everything but squandered the opportunity in her own foolishness and ended up with nothing.
No matter how she looked at it, she had done something horrible.
Why she could author a poem about this. Well, she had no paper nor anything to write with. Monika would have to make do with her mind.
Monika's eyes opened to the bright light of… the sun? All around her were the vibrations and motions of a moving wagon. In shock, she sat up and realized that she could move. She could breathe. She could see.
"Sweet mother of-" Monika covered her mouth when she heard her voice again.
Taking a deep breath, Monika forced herself to analyze the situation.
Indeed, she was sitting inside a horse-drawn carriage, pulled through a pale, snowy forest, surrounded by large mountainous rocks and pine trees tipped with delicate frost-like pastel fingers. The driver was dressed in medieval chainmail armor and a leather helmet. A soldier of some kind. In fact, they were in a line of multiple carts, each carrying more people.
Bringing her attention back to herself, she was no longer in her school uniform but now in dark greenish-grey robes with gentle bronze linings, the clothing you would see on a magician in a classic fantasy setting. And thankfully, not the kind of magician with unsettlingly revealing clothes. As she tried to raise her hand to check her hair, she unsettlingly found that her hands were bound with rope behind her back.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake,"
Monika glanced around. Apparently, she was not the only one in the cart. Across from where she was sitting was a man with braided golden hair, dirty pale skin, and blue clothes. He was also quite big, not in the sense of being fat, for he was incredibly muscular, but quite literally two feet above her with proportions to match. Glancing to the side, in the back of the cart were two other men of similar build. One was red-faced with black hair parting in the middle, while the other had his face covered by a gag, his hair almond colored.
"Huh? Who are you?" she said.
"You were trying to cross the border, right?" the blonde man said. "Walked right into an imperial ambush?"
He sounded vaguely Swedish or perhaps Norse.
"N-no! I just woke up; I don't know what's happening!" Monika said.
"Poor thing," the black-haired man said. "You must've hit your head on something when you were captured like us."
He then turned to the blonde man and scowled.
"Damn, you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If it hadn't been for them looking for you, I'd have stolen that horse and already been halfway to Hammerfell,"
"You stole a horse?" Monika said.
"Ah, you've got that look in your eyes," the blonde man said. "A Breton girl far from home got caught up with the wrong people, and now you're here. I bet you must've grown up somewhere nice…"
"B-Breton?" Monika said. So many words that she couldn't begin to understand. "I'm sorry, I'm completely baffled here. How did I get here? What happened to Doki Doki Literature Club?"
"Look here, friend," the horse thief said. "The empire doesn't want you and me; it's these Stormcloaks they're after. Once we find a way out of here, I can help point you towards home, but not much else. I gotta get out of here as soon as possible."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds, now, my friend," the Stormcloak man, as Monika presumed, said. "What's your name?"
"Don't expect to see me again, but I'm Lokir," the horse thief's expression softened. "You?"
"Ralof. And what about you, little missy?"
She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be condescending or just observational, given how the phrase "little" was quite literal in this sense.
"I'm Monika. I'm… sorry, but I'm still unsure how I got here. The last thing I remember was… well…"
She took a deep breath. No point in lying here.
"I sort of accidentally deleted my old universe after I ruined the thing and killed all my friends in my rather poorly thought attempt to communicate with a being beyond reality, and then subsequently destroyed myself to try and erase all my mistakes and then somehow ended here with these weird clothes and all of you," she smiled awkwardly.
The two men exchanged glances.
"Must be afflicted with some foul magic, Daedra no less," Lokir said. "Oh, don't take offense. But I don't think you're quite… how do you say… all right in the head?"
Monika would've taken offense to that, but for intents and purposes, he was probably right.
Though, based on this… rather odd conversation… Monika was starting to put the pieces together. It would seem, somehow, she'd ended up inside another game. One of those fantasy RPGs that Sayori liked to play. It made sense; the player probably had many games besides Doki Doki Literature Club.
Well, there was one way to check. Monika closed her eyes and tried to enter the game's files. But to her disappointment, the usual window didn't appear to her. Monika would never have thought she'd miss seeing the thing that had started her madness, but here she was.
"Where are we going anyway?" Lokir asked.
"I have no idea what town we're heading to, but one thing's for certain. Sovngarde awaits."
"Sovn… what now?" Monika said.
"Well, I don't know how it works for your people, my friend, but for us Nords, Sovngarde is where the most valiant of us who pass on bravely and without regret shall spend our eternity eating, drinking, brawling, and singing."
"Wait, do you mean…" Monika's eyes widened. Ralof motioned to the gagged member of the wagon.
"That right there is Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim," he said. "And as for his current state…"
"Wait, the leader of the rebellion?!" Lokir's eyes widened. "Oh god, if they've captured you… no, this can't be happening! People are waiting for me back home!"
Everything lined up in Monika's head, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
"What? That can't be true! I just got here; I can't die yet!"
"There's nothing to be done now," Ralof sighed before turning to Lokir. "Say, Horse Thief, where are your people waiting for you?"
"Why do you care?" Lokir looked at him with frightened empty eyes. Monika recognized that look. That same look Natsuki had after she'd seen Yuri's remains.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home,"
"...Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."
"As for you, Monika, do you still remember anything of yours to comfort you in your final moments?"
"...Actually, I do remember some things," Monika said. "They're… fuzzy, but I can still put their names to their faces. I was the president of the Literature Club. And there were three other girls as members. Timid Yuri… cheerful Sayori… sweet Natsuki… they were the best friends I ever had, the only ones I ever had. They were everything to me. They were the only things in the world that weren't… completely fake. But… I took them for granted and ruined everything chasing some stupid fantasy. They're dead because of me. They suffered because of me. I destroyed something wonderful, wearing a stupid smile all the time. I deserve this, don't I? After what I've done, death is a merciful punishment."
"...Your words elude me, but I see your anguish. Just remember the joyful moments for now. You can face them yourself in a little while."
Something about this strange giant man gave her an odd sense of comfort. And… he was right about everything. Closing her eyes, Monika slowly let every accusation she'd yelled at herself drop away. She didn't need them anymore. She'd be punished duly in a little while, so there was no need to do it to herself. As she felt the hatred slowly leave her, a new feeling came over Monika. That strange sort of feeling she'd get when she was with her friends. Watching Sayori's eyes light up with joy, comforting her in her moments of sorrow, savoring every moment Natsuki let her usual grim persona go and allowing her sparks of love and affection fly in every direction like a happy sparkler, and embracing the coldness of the universe alongside Yuri, who's kindness, patience, and astuteness made her someone you could always rely on, no matter what.
Love. That's what she felt. She loved her friends. She'd do anything for them. Anything.
Anything…
Perhaps… Perhaps Monika loved her friends enough to bypass whatever kept them apart. And if they hated her for her crimes, then so be it. She'd apologize to them. She'd let them torture her. She'd end her own life if they so desired. No matter what, she would find her friends and tell them how much she loved them.
Unfortunately, the sensation of the cart stopping in the middle of a small medieval village gave her another impression. She was about to die.
"Let's go. Best not keep the empire waiting," Ralof said, silently resigning himself to his fate. He stood up, and Monika followed. Lokir, on the other hand, had to be dragged out by a nearby guard, followed shortly by the Ulfric fellow.
"No, wait, we're not rebels! You can't do this to us!" he shouted to no avail.
"Face your death with some courage, thief," said Ralof. Monika wasn't sure who to side with here, though she doubted the choice would mean anything.
"You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"
A woman in armor stood beside a brown-haired man in a red outfit. Based on her helmet, she appeared to be a captain.
"When we call your name, you step up to the block!" she shouted. Monika felt her stomach lurch at the sight of the bloodstained stone resting on the ground before a wooden crate, the purpose of which was clear. And, of course, a masked executioner stood carrying an enormous blood-soaked ax.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," the brown-haired man said. The gagged man silently walked up to the executioner, staring at him dead with a sidewise glance.
The man continued to read off a list in his hands.
"Ralof of Riverwood," Ralof followed his leader in tow. "Lokir of Rorikstead."
"I'm not a rebel; please, you have to listen!" Lokir pleaded with the captain.
"I said, step up to the block," she replied with a glare as cold as the winter wind. Monika didn't notice before, but it was chilly.
"You won't kill me!" he panicked and sprinted away.
"Archers!" shouted the captain. With the twang of a bow and thunk of an arrow, Lokir was slain. Monika looked on in horror before realizing this was probably how the player felt after seeing the other girls die.
"Anyone else feel like running?" said the captain.
"Wait…" The man with the list did a double-take when he saw Monika. "Who are you?"
A glimmer of hope shone up in her heart. Of course, she wasn't from here; there weren't any crimes she could have committed!
"Monika!" she said. "I'm Monika!"
"Monika, who?" said the man. "And from where?"
"Just Monika," she said. "And I'm from… Doki Doki Literature Club?"
She gulped.
The man glanced between her and his list.
"I assume that's from somewhere in Daggerfall?" he said. "Fleeing from some court intrigue?"
Monika didn't know how to respond, but already the man turned to the armored woman.
"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list," he said. For a brief moment, she thought she'd get out of this alive.
"Forget the list. That girl goes to the block."
"WHAT?" Monika shouted out loud unintentionally. "What do you think I've done? Aren't I innocent until proven guilty?"
Monika then remembered medieval legal systems were pretty bad at this.
"By your orders, captain," the man sighed. He looked at Monika with sorrow in his eyes. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock. Follow the captain."
Monika gulped and once again accepted her impending death.
"You would behead an innocent girl just for being in the same wagon as us?" Ralof said, sharp accusations right at the captain. "I know what I've done, but her? Shame on you, Imperials!"
"Shut up!" the captain shouted. Monika sighed and followed her as she headed over to the chopping block.
Just as she was walking, she suddenly heard something akin to a roar from above her head.
"Uh, did anyone else hear…" she started to say, but she was interrupted.
"What was that?" said the executioner.
"Ignore it," said the captain. "Let's hurry up and get this over with. Any volunteers for the first man to die?"
Monika coughed aloud.
"First person to die?"
Nobody spoke. The captain pointed at a random Stormcloak.
"How about you?" she said.
The man sighed and made his way to the block without resistance.
Monika looked the other way as she heard the thump of the ax and the sound of his head hitting the crate.
"Next, the Breton!" said the captain.
Another roar echoed throughout the village.
"Okay, that's the second time…" the man with the list said.
"You heard it too?" said the executioner.
"I wasn't planning on saying anything, but I did, in fact, hear it as well," said Ralof.
A murmur of agreement spread throughout the crowd as they all admitted having heard the roar.
"Quiet!" said the captain. "I said, next prisoner!"
"Ah, of course!" said the executioner, resuming his post. Monika gulped and closed her eyes before stepping forward. But not a moment later did a third roar, this one much louder, made her freeze in her tracks.
"Hey, hurry it up!" said the captain. Suddenly, a loud impact drew the crowd's attention to the large stone tower behind the captain. Atop it perched an enormous black lizard-like creature. Monika recognized it as a dragon. A famous mythological creature known for being one of the most dangerous beings alive.
The beast let out a roar like before, then spewed orange flames into the sky.
At once, everyone except the captain screamed aloud and scrambled away from the beast.
"Hey, what are you all doing? Archers! I said, archers!"
"Erm, captain?" the man with the list said.
"Not now, Hadvar!"
"But there's a..."
"I swear to the Eight, Hadvar if you interrupt me one more time- '
"DRAGON!"
Finally, the captain turned around, and her jaw dropped at the sight of the massive black lizard.
"…Uh, your orders?" Hadvar said.
Monika realized her chance, turned and ran out the gate as the guards turned on the dragon. She sprinted as fast as she could with her hands bound. She didn't even care if anyone looked up her skirt…
Wait, was she wearing panties right now?
Shaking that thought out of her head, Monika continued to run. And she ran. And she ran some more.