Dohleran had once been an oasis, millennia ago. That was long before the Schism, back when the land was still known as Archanea. Back then she had been weak, bested by a mortal with a divine blade still wet with the blood of her kin—loosely related or not—in a land far from her current resting place. She had killed her father—her creator—when his fear of her grew too great, when her warm smile sent tendrils of madness and desperation through his being and forced his hand and had been slain in turn less than a year later. In hindsight, perhaps she'd shown far too many teeth after savaging the warriors that attacked them without end.
Less than a year later, her father tried to destroy her, to turn her back into raw flesh and mixed blood given life by heretical magic. She was a failure in his eyes, a being that had a mix of his wife's features and those of a divine being, but without the personality of the former or the grace of the latter. Instead, she took a savage glee in fighting and was rebellious more often than not, but she loved her father and learned all she could from him when he was willing to teach her. Then he tried to kill her and she rather misliked that and made her protests well known, culminating in crushing her father's skull between her claws. She regretted that soon afterwards, left alone with the risen corpses and the bugs that controlled them for years until her killer and his compatriots appeared. She wouldn't say that she was in her best shape then, her mind was fraying as the loneliness and traces of guilt ate away at her, and it showed when the green clad warrior was able to best her.
Unfortunately for her killer, her death didn't quite stick. Perhaps it was because the mortal blood running through her veins had diminished the effects of the blade meant to kill her—the tooth of her mother if the divine blood in her veins was to be believed. Perhaps it had been her divine blood, so close in nature to the blade that cut her down that, that revived her. She did not know and she did not truly care at the time, she was far more concerned with rampaging and unleashing her outrage and indignation upon a far changed world. She would have started with that reed haired brat and his entire bloodline if she'd known where they were at the time, but in the time between her demise and reawakening the world had changed. Rather than dealing with a short green haired brat with a divine blade once, she had to deal with a tall blue haired brat with a near identical blade many times.
That had been a period of time, millennia ago, and perhaps the most free for her until her second defeat. That defeat had been rather costly. For one her once grand form was all but destroyed and she was forced to possess a vessel to interact with the world around her. Multiple vessels. Very few mortals could contain her divine essence for very long without burning up from the inside out or falling apart in short order. It was rather annoying and tedious, but less so than assimilating and reliving the memories of each and every host as she transitioned from one to the next while she was awake.
Remaining awake was the difficult thing. As time passed her power grew and as her power grew she could exert less and less before needing to rest, a matter of quality over quantity. Sometimes she would need to rest for days, but more often than that she would need to rest for weeks or months before she could act again. Very few hosts could hold out for those periods and the few that could were crippled or at the brink of death when she next awoke, which was always troublesome. It was always jarring to awaken in the head of another being and feeling their psyches warp and dissolve until only she remained. It was a lonely existence and that was discounting the times her hosts were slain by wielders of her mother's other fang, which forced her to sleep for a millennia each time.
That had happened three times total, each time at the end of a climactic struggle that would have shaped the world in her favor. The first time, the world would have burned, her rage and madness all consuming as her first death fueled her lust for chaos and destruction. The second time her rancor had subsided and had been replaced by frustration, then deep deep melancholy as her host tugged at her mortal heart and pleaded for her to stop her march upon the world. Foolishly she listened and allowed the mother's fang to pierce her heart, ending the life of the sole host she'd bonded with, respected and could exert her full power with. The third time she was simply tired. With a mighty beat of her wings she sundered the world and brought it to the cusp of ruin, slaying the first and second wielder of her mother's fang—the Falchion as it was called by humans and her blood alike—in quick succession as her power swelled. After being thwarted and moving from body to body hundred, if not thousands, of times and suffering as mortals did she deserved a victory. She had earned it, her power and experience had grown and she fought fang and claw as both an ally and enemy of humanity. She would have won then and reshaped the world—destroying it truly did not hold her interest, she'd dealt with a world of corpses in her labyrinthine home and found it wanting.
She wanted to live without changing bodies so often, to be able to love and experience joy properly. She wanted to truly explore the world and enjoy it for all it was. Then her mother intervened and ripped any chance at victory, now tantalizingly close, from her grasp.
"You've gone too far," he mother said calmly as the world shattered into prismatic shards around her, pain ripping through her as countless reflections and echoes of her deeds danced around her. Her great wings exploded into a mess of ichor and feathers as her body fell from the sky, struck down as if she'd been impudent enough to fly too high and attempted to embrace the sun. A mountain pierced her heart and her fell blood spilled across the land beneath her, killing all that it touched.
"Why," she recalled raging as she thrashed and scrabbled to free herself from the mountain. "They called me back to the fore when they needed no gods on their side to war with on another! They wanted peace and I would grant it to them!"
"You would strip the world of life in your haste and rob them of their future," her mother chided, as if speaking to a petulant child. "As much as I have done you and your sister wrong, I cannot allow you to continue here."
"Then why let things reach this point in the first place," she returned, rage growing molten in her veins. "You could have stopped this long ago, yet you did nothing. You never acknowledged me when I reached out to you, when I cried out for guidance and lost myself in the memories of thousands! Yet now, when I'm at my most powerful and sane, is when you choose to reveal yourself!? Why? Why now, why not when I was mad with rage or desperate for love and affection after my father tried to slay me?"
Her draconic form, once immaculate with six pairs of feathered white wings and silken white fur that seamlessly transitioned to platinum scales, could not cry even as she felt bitter tears bubbling up. She never called upon her power over the dead since leaving her first home, never gave into her darkest impulses after her second reawakening and had cut down both Falchion wielders in single combat rather than razing their nations to the ground. They hadn't even tried treating with her, instead opting to call her the Fell Dragon and Abomination when she had a perfectly good mortal form to take in this life, the second in a millennium that was perfect for her and truly aligned with her.
"Perhaps I was mistaken in not taking you to the land of dreams as soon as you awoke the second time, —," Her mother's voice continued, ignoring her question as pain lanced through her head. She'd been called something, but she couldn't understand it as bitterness and anger turned to black rage. Evidently her mother noticed as she continued. "I will rectify that mistake now, daughter. Let sleep take you and your suffering will end. When you next awake, I will explain all–"
"I want nothing from you," she roared, wrenching herself from the mountain stained in her blood. With a ragged breath she cursed the heavens, breathing guttering silver flames tainted violet by her blood as her body struggled to keep itself together. Her host had died, killed when her heart was pierced, and soon she would return to rest. Not without laying even a scratch on her mother. Her breath turned violet and smoky as her scales lost their luster. Her fur rotted away and her beautiful white wings blackened and burned as her hatred became her. No longer would she stand mortals and their petty conflicts, she would crush them like the worms they were. She would no longer hold herself back and would paint the vibrant lively world with shadows and death as far as she could reach. If the world wanted her to be a monster and her mother refused to acknowledge her, that was fine: she would make both suffer thrice as much as she did and show them exactly what they made her into. She would avenge each life that had been snuffed out prematurely by being bound to her and create a land where the dead roamed the land as the living did now, saving a scant few mortals to serve her until she grew bored of them. She would—
The world shattered for a second time as the heavens grew furious. A roar that shook the land and parted the seas resounded, snuffing out her breath as if it was nothing. Once again she was crushed to the ground, this time by ire rather than indifference and she could feel the shift in demeanor. Before her mother had been chiding her and trying to convince her with words more than force. Now her mother was telling her to be silent and be punished. Even as her wrath grew and her power swelled as something—many things collectively—snapped within her, she knew she stood no chance at striking down her mother. Not now, not yet. She would however and the sister she never knew about would join her or suffer the same fate when the time came. She would never forget this, never forgive.
Never.
"Milady, your temper is flaring," a cool voice said, breaking the Fell God from her reverie. Her single good eye snapped towards the speaker, glaring at the blonde woman with wild fury before realization dawned on her. She was not trapped beneath the wrath of Naga or buried within the earth. She was not one the battlefield, having pieces of her newly recreated body hacked away and ruined by lowly gnats as the sword that would be her end drew closer. She was not in the future, where her brother, both in arms and through bonds, had trampled upon the last of her goodwill and maimed her in his final moments. Instead, she rested in a rounded stone chamber within a spherical crystalline apparatus created by the woman before her. She was in Dohleran once more, changed yet again from her previous visit.
Viscous red liquid surrounded her naked curled form, a combination of blood, mana and various medicinal substances the blonde woman created on short notice. It was supposed to heal her broken body faster than simply feeding on the death and chaos that touched the land and the prayers of her followers and further strengthen her, but she had no doubt the woman had an ulterior motive. Both she and Loki did, that much was obvious. The difference was that the blonde woman's ulterior motive had to do solely with her and she'd admitted as much. That honesty was one of the reasons she kept the demi-human around while keeping the magenta haired woman under close observation.
"Your comment was unneeded, Claudius. I was perfectly aware of what was going on."
"And you were content with reopening your recently sealed wound," the blonde woman returned, almost playfully but with a warning tone.
"Do not take that tone with me, demi-human. You live because I allow you to, not because you have any form of grand purpose ordained by the stars." Had it been anyone else, the Fell God would have slain them on the spot, but Claudius was far more difficult to kill than she appeared to be, despite her dolly appearance. The blonde woman wore the garb of a dancer and mage, the form fitting black cloth with silver accents doing little to accentuate her modest features. Her face was perfectly shaped, petite and clearly meant to be attractive to all humans, with a single scar over her left eye that only added to her inhuman beauty. The only indicators that she was more than she appeared to be were her cobalt colored eyes that bred to win red when she grew serious and the black cloth-like projections that grew from her shoulder blades and appeared to be part of her attire. She had cleaned up since her arrival and the wise decision to pledge her loyalty to the Fell God, no longer a dirty and reeking woman wearing the bloodstained clothes of a beggar and a pair of too small shoes.
The Fell God was unsure as to what Claudius was and she cared very little at this point. When all was said and done she would appoint the odd woman as one of the few worthy of bearing her word if she earned her keep in full or she would devour her without a second thought.
"And yet, your recovery has benefitted from my presence, milady and I only hope that it continues to," Claudius replied, offering a demure smile. "Speaking of which, it is time that we attempt to go walking once more. Your body will weaken if all you do is soak yourself."
She had heard it all before, the blonde woman had said so many times.
"Very well. Pray that it goes better than the previous attempt. Should my legs fail me once more I will have your head on a pike before the night is up."
"If that would make you happy, milady," Claudius said flippantly as she drew a symbol in the air. The crystalline sphere around her shattered into tiny prismatic shards as the liquid remained in place, undulating slowly as the Fell God straightened herself. With a thought the red liquid parted and the Fell God floated to just above the ground, arms outstretched. Claudius drew forth a set of clothing without question and worked to dress the silver haired deity as a vassal and handmaiden would. "Does this attire suit you?"
The blonde woman produced a large mirror from inky shadows and presented it to the Fell God. The silver haired woman immediately frowned at the sight before, not at the blonde woman's choice of attire, but at the injury that marred her once blemish free visage. An ugly jagged scar cut across her face, still as red and raw as the night she received it. The three eyes on the left side of her face had been destroyed, while only one of her right eyes remained as the attack that maimed her had traveled downward. The angry red line that marred her face had shredded her throat, the only part of her that had fully regenerated in her time recovering, as it continued downward and split her from collar to groin then further down her left leg. Her wings had been so thoroughly destroyed that she could not manifest them without searing pain racking her entire body as they tore from her rather than unfold.
The injury brought her anger forth, but less than the betrayal she felt from the attacker, one who she'd considered family once. Her 'brother' would pay, long before he gained the power to harm her as he did before he died without leaving a trace. She had loved him once, more than she did her true sister, who held no lover for her in her pristine, pure and all too righteous heart. Perhaps in this world she would see her way before her still beating heart was plucked from her chest. A thousand curses on the both of them, leaving her alone yet again as they stole her children away and died facing her.
A small part of her relished their deaths, though the one she called brother had died far more content than she liked, but the rest of her felt loneliness and madness creeping in at once in the world she did destroy, now bereft of her mother's influence. She needed to leave then and there, she needed to find her children and her siblings and reunite with them. Her siblings would suffer, that was without question, but perhaps she would come to forgive them one day. If they begged and pleaded she feared her compassionate heart would feel bad for them and free them early. Perhaps then they would cooperate and give her the love and affection she was long overdue.
"Milady, you never gave your opinion," Claudius chimed up, drawing the deity from her thoughts.
"They are adequate." That was the most she was going to give the demi-human, fishing for praise was unbecoming of one who would be her servant.
"Then let us continue your therapy, milady. We can also visit little Vajra, now that they've returned from their excursion to Themis. Sadly, only they returned."
Vajra. Part of the two projects Claudius requested her permission for. The first had been bolstering the capabilities of a select few Risen and seeing how they acted when weapons were integrated into their forms. Most fell apart or broke their weapons before reverting to their usual mindless states, but twelve did not. Those twelve were tested against criminals and undesirables among the Dohleran populace before they were given their first real test: to attempt to assassinate King Gangrel while disguised as Ylisseans. If they succeeded, Plegia would be in disarray until she or another figure were to take the nation's reins. If they failed, they were to flee across the border in order to provoke the soon to be agitated Ylisseans into conflict with Plegia and begin the war that would be integral to her ascension. Predictably they did fail, thwarted by the king's personal guard and a certain witch with a dangerously shifting allegiance—a witch who would need to be dealt with soon if she truly had turned her back on her origins.
The second project was the one that created the artificial being and their siblings, involving a combination of Claudius' shaping capabilities and tiny sparks of her benefactor's magic. The Fell God had been bored then and agreed to assisting the eccentric woman, expecting naught but empowered dolls. She was half correct: the four resulting beings were indeed dolls, their features designed to the full extent of Claudius' tastes, but something about the way the blonde crafted them gave them some facsimile of a soul when the deity's power was given. The fact that the demi-human was then able to nurture the tiniest dregs of spirit into proper souls and give the dolls personalities over the course of a few days told the Fell God that Claudius was far more than she appeared to be. Unlike Loki, however, the demi-human was no deity, she just could not be killed by conventional means. No, it was clear that Claudius was some master sculptor of flesh and magic, but very mortal based on her scent and spirit.
The four dolls they created—Excalibur, Flamberge, Balmung and Vajra as Claudius named them—each had magical talent that far surpassed that of an ordinary mage, each capable of casting spells without the limitations and constraints of a human body. Of the four Vajra was the Fell God's least favorite, so hearing that they were the only one to return from what should have been a simple mission—destroy the Themis Duchy and slay or maim the Summoner when he arrived—was irksome. What a waste of divine essence that was, no matter how insignificant it appeared to be.
The walk was slow, arduous even, for the deity. Her injured leg had hardly any feeling and buckled if she put anything that felt like normal weight on it. If not for Claudius being nearby, she was certain she would have stumbled and even fallen. Such a thing would have been utterly disgraceful for a deity and she would have had to make due on her promise. The pair left the rounded chamber and made their way to a large open space with a deliberate gait, where her followers bustled about. As they stepped into the room, her followers froze, standing at attention. Rather than acknowledge them, the Fell God and her aide passed through the room in silence. As they reached the adjoining hall, one of the followers sighed in relief.
With a twist of a finger, the follower's shadow consumed them where they stood. The remaining servants froze stiff and remained that way as the duo continued their walk. Once out of earshot, Claudius spoke up.
"Was that truly necessary, milady," the blonde asked, her demure smile never leaving her face. The god felt disgust there, reading Claudius was far more difficult than reading Loki despite the demi-human's eyes telling her feelings rather plainly. Unlike the other with a similar trait she knew, Claudius was good at schooling both her expressions and eyes.
"Any who fear my presence so much that they only show calm when I am away are unworthy of their mortal coil. Instead they can rejoice in hastening my recovery, no matter how minutely they do so."
"So you gave them the highest of honors then?"
"To become one with me is the highest honor any mortal could hope to achieve. They walk upon the land and the land is my domain. Any who step foot on the earth, bar my kin, are claimed by me by default. In what position are they to complain if I choose to take them early?"
The blonde woman gave a musical hum in return. "Then one day should I aspire to become one with you, milady?"
"Only should you fail me. You have maintained your worth thus far, but I am slow to forgive weakness and mistakes, Claudius."
"I shall keep that in mind." The Fell God did not like that one bit. Even among mortals, her aide was strange. Where she had mortal blood that allowed her to see things as mortals did, few mortals made her feel the same way Claudius did. She was like the mage who had pursued her in life years ago, the same one she devoured in a single bite when she regained herself, but worse. She did not watch her from every angle, instead her remarks felt less human than any other she had encountered. She saw things as a god did: mortals were nothing but pets and playthings to be observed and prodded rather than her kin. How warped one needed to be to see the world in such a light as a mortal was beyond her, but it did not say good things about who or what Claudius had been before they met. Rather than entertain those thoughts any longer, she drew her attention to the chamber she felt a faint thrum of her power residing in.
Vajra. Perhaps she would consume the being and regain her wasted power that way. She would decide based on their report. She hoped it was dull, then she could take her power back without anything resembling remorse or her human heart getting in the way. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, it was not.
Claudius watched her liege and subject with great interest as they approached the deity's servant and her sole remaining doll. Perhaps she had a different name long ago, before she materialized in the center of a ritual circle in a desert she did not recognize. The name Claudius struck a chord with her and she decided it would do as she tore her inadvertent summoners to pieces with a flick of her wrists. It was a pity they weren't specific when they gave her the command to kill everyone she saw, at the very least they would have lived until she made it to Dohleran and grew bored of them.
That was the thing about this world: it was so dreadfully boring for all that it had magic and creatures that did not exist in her original home. At least the monsters and mythical beings of her world were creative and bizarre, being far more than winged horses, lesser dragons and griffins. Comparatively, what her world lacked in traditional magics was made up for with the potential and power of individuals who would no doubt have made short work of any lesser and intermediate mages from this world that they came across, with minor issues against the upper echelon casters if they were as dull and unfocused as the majority she'd seen. It wasn't until she stumbled upon a temple utilized by a certain religious group that she found something interesting.
The temple incident was completely out of her hands really. She was hot and the clothing she scavenged off of her summoners and the corpses they left in their wake to bring her into the world were filthy and did very little against the oppressive light from the sun. The heat did not bother her nearly as much as it would a human, but the harsh light burned and dehydration had been a real threat as she wandered across the desert. It was happenstance that a caravan of travelers came across her and further happenstance when a marauding group of cultists fell upon them from all directions, forcing the few survivors of the group to flee, while others—Claudius included—were captured and lead to a nearby temple within the walls of Dohleran. From there, everyone but a small lime haired child clad in an immodest garb of dragon's scales and delicate fabric was designated to be a blood sacrifice to the dark deity of the temple. The child in question was instead to be sacrificed at a location referred to as the Dragon's Table, supposedly the true resting place of the temple's deity.
That did bring up the question as to what the deeply malevolent and lovely presence lying beneath the temple was but Claudius wasn't interested in finding out at that point. Instead she was more interested in not being sacrificed and took matters into her own hands when most all of her fellow sacrifices chose to instead wallow in despair despite outnumbering the captors in the room by nearly seven to one. Only the green haired child showed any interest in fighting back against the mages, marking her as the only person Claudius allowed to leave the sacrifice chamber other than herself. Anyone who would give up any chance of survival, no matter how likely the odds were against them, did not deserve to live as far as the blonde woman was concerned, so she killed them and her captors alike before shooing the child away with a bloody smile.
It wasn't that she enjoyed killing, she mused as she tore through another group of magi and slavers, it was simply that she cared not for lesser beings and even less for boring things. To that end she offered them perhaps the greatest deal they could hope for: surrender themselves to her and she would spare them without hesitation. Not one of them took her offer, instead they bombarded her with spellfire and arrows, ripping through her mortal guise in the name of the deity they appeared to serve: Grima. That was rather unfortunate for them, she no longer felt like being benevolent when she pulled her body back together. To that end, her eyes bled amber and she began using her own magic.
Maws of shadow and crimson energy tore into existence, biting clean through steel and silver—an odd choice for weapons and armor to say the least—clad fighters like they were the breaded and crumb battered meat. A golden multilayered halo spun into being over her head as she grasped a single mote of golden light and offered it skywards, her halo whirling in response. Her clear blue eyes flashed crimson and the single mote of light became five, then twenty five then many more as they scattered across the chamber and ricocheted off the walls, punching coin sized holes in those unfortunate enough to find themselves in their paths as they accelerated from each bounce. Between the maws and the light, fragments of Claudius' power, the mages and warriors were made short work of and she was free to venture deeper into the temple, though it felt much more like a compulsion. The dark power she felt beneath her had stirred in response to her presence, inviting her into the dark below without a word.
The next few floors of the temple had more mages and warriors alongside them, but none rose to challenge Claudius as they passed by. Instead they kneeled and kept their heads to the ground, staying clear of the obvious path that led her further inwards. Perhaps it was the blood that spilled down the first flight of stairs as she descended or the spritely smile she wore.
The blonde monster noted the shift from carved stone architecture to smooth stone caverns made of white stone lined with flowering quartz growths that glowed more brightly the further away she got from the temple. Eventually, she reached a rounded stone chamber where a wounded woman rested upon a simple throne.
She had lustrous silver hair that reached spilled to the smooth white stone and a near translucent complexion with how pale she appeared to be. Her body was perfectly sculpted, with beautiful curves accentuated by the ethereal magenta gown she wore and features that wouldn't have looked out of place on a depiction of a once beautiful goddess maimed in battle. She was at least a head taller than Claudius, not much of a feat considering how short the blonde woman was, and gave off a dark and regal presence that drowned out all others as she appeared to rest boredly in her seat. If not for the jagged, claw-like wound that trailed from her face and down her neck in a fiery red trail, the woman before her would have looked perfect.
"Are you done admiring my appearance or is there more still that you wish to take in, demi-human?" A cool, aloof voice that was both charismatic enough to draw one in and scathing enough to push one away in turn spoke. The woman hadn't moved her mouth, but it was clear that the voice had come from her all the same.
She had never been called a demi-human before, but it was fitting. From what she could tell, she could not become a monster in form, but she was certainly more monster than human in all but appearance. She didn't mind that, becoming a monster was more than likely the reason she ended up in this strange land.
"I believe I shall admire you more, deific being," Claudius replied as her eyes faded back to a clear blue. The woman before her exhaled sharply in reply and the blonde found her throat constricting as it became difficult to breathe. Not that breathing was something she needed to do anymore, but it was a habit from her much more human days.
"And now?"
"I believe your point has been made," Claudius managed, speaking tended to be difficult when one could not force air from their lungs outwards.
"Good, then I will be blunt: swear fealty to me and I will not incinerate you where you stand for daring to lay a hand on my worshipers. Instead, I will allow you to serve me and-"
"That is acceptable, I agree," the blonde interrupted, her smile never leaving her face as she gave a curtsy.
"You did not allow me to finish setting my terms. For all you know, demi-human, I could request you bind yourself utterly to my will and become utterly subservient."
"I do not believe you will, not without first gaining some understanding of my capabilities and disposition. You do not strike me as the tyrannical sort, though that could very well be a façade. More to the point, I can already see ways in which I can aid you."
A crimson eye opened slowly, the air in the room becoming thick with power and pressure as the silver haired deity looked over the blonde woman.
"A bold assumption," she replied with a deep yawn that revealed rows of too sharp teeth, her tone tired, cool and clipped. "I do hope that you are ready to prove your worth, else I will be forced to make good on my promise from before."
That was how the Fell God and Claudius met, joined shortly thereafter by a woman who called herself Loki. Unlike Claudius, however, Loki spoke with them from afar through dreams and visions. One in particular caught both the blonde woman and the silver deity's eyes, one of a young man with dark green hair and bright blue eyes fighting a fiery giant clad in heavy armor. The young man wielded a blade of crackling azure light while the giant swung a scythe nearly as large as it, the two clashing in a field of molten stone and spires of jagged ice as two armies collided with one another.
The deity recognized the greener haired youth, a forlorn looking crossing her features before outrage replaced it, but Claudius did not. Instead she felt a glimmer of familiarity as he ran along waves of hardening lava and hopped between crashing sheets of ice to strike at the giant and send it reeling. The reckless way he fought matched the way people fought in her world to an uncanny degree, even if the blade of what had to be pure magic did not. Was he her kin? If so, this was the first time she's seen someone who was.
More visions followed, focusing either on the green haired youth or the trio that Loki accompanied: a cloaked and masked man with dark blue hair, another silver haired woman with wine colored eyes and a dark haired youth wearing a cloak with the same iconography of the deity. Said deity recognized that youth as well, though the expression that crossed her features remained melancholic. How curious, but Claudius knew that the deity would give no answer if questioned on the matter. She had tried for the green haired youth and found herself buried in a wall for her efforts.
She then had to help the goddess recuperate after over exerting herself, but that was neither here nor there.
There were two particular people of interest for her to look into, one who had earned the Fell God's scorn and another that caused the deity's heart to ache. Were gods supposed to know mortal grief, mortal rage? Claudius assumed not, but she had never met before the silver haired one before her, so she was uncertain. Regardless, that made her more interesting and Claudius cherished interesting things more than she did her dolls and puppets. As Claudius prepared to offer her services in creating a suitable doll for the Fell God, the silver haired woman declined and revealed that she already had her own: an emotionless, soulless thing with the shape of a human, but power far beyond—power made clear when it brought Loki to them instantaneously the day she was attacked by one of her traveling companions and yet another masked warrior in an arena of sorts.
The silver deity called them Canis, but Claudius felt that Laplace was much more fitting.
The deity soon revealed another such being, one with a soul and life. She did not give their name, but called them dear to her nonetheless. Another curiosity around the deity to look into. Did the gods cherish their creations? If they did, they had a rather twisted way of showing it through trials and tribulations mortals had little hope of passing. Or were those trials instead divine punishment for innumerable slights, grievances and misdeeds committed by their creations? Another thing she could not discern so easily, though Loki being around provided some insight into the matter.
The magenta haired woman was a deity as well after all. Where the Fell God was harsh, angry and yet extremely close to a mortal in terms of mindset, Loki was not. Loki was like her in a way, except she took it much further: all living things, deities and mortals alike, were like puppets to her and she the puppeteer—at least, she wished to be. That was why the Fell God kept the magenta haired woman away: the knowledge that her allegiance was temporary at best, until their mutual enemy was dead and gone. That, in turn, led back to the green haired youth from the visions.
It didn't take Claudius much longer to piece together that he was the one who had maimed the silver deity, not when Loki spoke of the numerous times he thwarted her plans across worlds. That was another thing: Loki could cross between worlds and had done so many times. The green haired youth, Kiran or Nicola depending on which god was referring to him, had been able to do a similar thing due to a relic he possessed and he'd gradually become a thorn in her side. That had culminated in him killing the giant she had fought beside and attempting to corner her when his power awakened, elevating him from a simple thorn to a legitimate threat in the grand scheme of things. Then he'd died and appeared in this land, which was when the silver haired deity had interjected.
"He should have appeared in Arena Ferox, that barbaric and frostbitten land, yet you claim he is already in Ylisse?"
"Indeed, words directly from the Ylissean prince's mouth," Loki nodded. "His sister wore the Summoner's coat, but there was no sign of Kiran among the prince and his merry band or within the arena."
"How irksome. This means things are changing to a far greater degree than expected. We will need to take action to rid the world of him soon, before the war Gangrel seeks begins in earnest and he is allowed to grow into his role here. It is rather unfortunate that the ones I've sent visions to are either cowards afraid to take action or schemers across the sea."
That was the most the silver deity had said in one go. Usually the Fell God would make a demand or ask a question and one was expected to answer her or suffer in turn. The only ones who appeared to be exempt from that rule were Claudius, Loki, both dolls the deity had created and the High Priest among her worshippers. More than that, however, she required rest as her body slowly knit itself back together. Claudius sped up the process once she found that the deity fed off the blood of the fallen, death, general bloodshed and magic.
The resultant concoction was the translucent red liquid the deity rested in, made from ever fresh blood, distilled mana from willing mages, what few medicinal herbs that could be easily acquired in the desert kingdom and a small amount of Claudius' own power. The healing process sped up drastically, but was still slow by Claudius' standards. Such was the severity of the silver deity's injuries, that even a roughly crafted elixir could only speed up the divine being's recovery rather than completely heal her. Perhaps other lands had better herbs and medicinal ingredients worth gathering to strengthen the formula: most all of the desert wildlife had nothing that benefitted healing in the way the blonde woman was looking for. Until she was able to confirm that, she instead opted to help the deity through physical therapy, a mostly foreign concept in this land.
Claudius could tell that the Fell God did not like being unstable on her feet or being forced to walk rather than be carried, though she liked it even less when Claudius giggled at her missteps and offered her a helping hand when she stumbled. The silver haired woman wanted to be fully independent rather than need assistance. It was endearing and made the demure smile the blonde woman wore much more genuine when the deity's independent streak flared.
Then came the plan to incite Ylisse and Plegia into conflict with one another. As unreasonable and occasionally petulant the Fell God could be, she was eerily calm when it came to plotting her enemy's downfall. She was methodical, cold and ruthless, rattling off the least fortified positions around Ylisse and how to best capitalize on them. Loki added her thoughts to the mix, exacerbating the known tensions between Ylisse and Plegia by striking directly at the halidom with a hard and fast assault and claiming the immediate territory past the border as Plegia's. That raised the question of who would be sent across the border and how they would avoid alerting the Ylisseans to their plan, at which point both Claudius and the Fell God's doll spoke up.
"If given enough resources, I can create soldiers that could make their way across the border without bearing any resemblance to this country's people and your worshipers, milady. Perhaps an above average group and a smaller number far more powerful and deadly, though they will need some work."
"On a similar note, if you are worried about the Summoner's interference perhaps we can bait them instead. Loki, you claim that the summoner cannot be in two places at once, correct?"
"Indeed. If he has the Breidablik with him he can theoretically traverse large distances in a short span of time, but only to areas he has visited prior."
"Could you provide a list of all of his known abilities to any agents we send along?"
"That would be easy enough, though getting them across the border in numbers enough to claim territory would be– Ah. I see."
"Do not keep your thoughts to yourself, mage. Speak your mind at once."
"You claimed that the less than savory elements of Ylisse as a whole lacked any real leadership and unity, correct?"
"That is correct."
"I propose unifying them to our cause, though not blatantly. I imagine even the most disillusioned Ylissean would still band against any Plegians they noticed attempting to sneak across the border and infiltrate their dens, but would they be fine with a form of mercenary venture and payment to not be around or start an uprising?"
"Perhaps, but what good would that–" The Fell God blinked. A serpentine smile spread across her features shortly thereafter. "You wish to make them into 'allies' then take advantage of Laplace's abilities to send agents over and clean up said allies, effectively gaining control of the criminal elements of the halidom and having numerous ears to the ground."
"That's exactly it. To that extent, I can get myself across the border with little trouble and initiate any dealings we do before stabbing our temporary allies in the back.
"Not without some form of back up," the larger doll spoke, earning a nod from the silver haired deity. They turned to her. "Would you be fine with Laplace accompanying her on this endeavor?"
A silent conversation passed between the deity and her servant before she nodded.
"That would be acceptable."
"Then that part of the planning is set in stone. The other part would be Claudius' proposition towards unidentifiable warriors. What are the requirements in that regard?"
"Corpses or a great deal of organic material."
"Corpses will have to suffice. Is there anything else you would need?"
"Perhaps a bit of your or Loki's divine power to give the stronger dolls some semblance of life. I can take care of the rest there."
"And this would only go towards creating stronger servants?"
"Yes and you are free to observe the process unless otherwise occupied, milady. It is quite interesting."
"Another thing we would need to test is the overall effectiveness of the beings Claudius creates once they are made," Loki interrupted.
"They will be battle ready once I am done with them, but a few tests would be in order. Only a fool doesn't go over their training and plans at least once."
"Perhaps we can use that testing period as a way to poke the bear that is the Plegia military," the doll suggested. "I would be fine leading and directing them into battle as needed."
And like that the plan came together. Claudius would create her soldiers using the inanimate forms of Risen and had been given permission to create her elite warriors so long as they were loyal to the Fell God first and foremost. The unnamed doll, dubbed Marduk by Claudius after watching his prowess with flame and blade alike, would lead her lesser soldiers in their training. Loki and Laplace had already left to cross the Ylissean border and feed intelligence to the Fell God while slowly but surely taking over the underbelly of the halidom over the next several months. Once those two finished their task and reported back, Marduk and the warriors at his side would strike at Plegia's king while disguised as Ylisseans then flee towards the border regardless of their success or failure in assassinating the leader—either outcome was fine at this juncture, but the king still had some use. From there, Laplace would bring over Claudius' elite warriors and have them lay waste to the Themis Duchy, no doubt drawing the attention of the green haired youth and sending him that way while Marduk and the others crossed the border and attacked any who stood in their path.
For the most part, everything worked as expected. The Themis Duchy was in ruins and it would take years for it to recover while her dolls with Marduk did nearly bring about a border catastrophe as they purposefully fanned the flames of conflict. Losing three of her four better dolls and nearly all of her repurposed Risen had been a minor blow to Claudius' pride before both Marduk and Vajra gave their reports.
"The presence of the Whitewing of Ylisse and your vessel made things far more difficult than expected, milady," the white clad swordsman explained, kneeling out of fealty. "She was able to quickly deduce the weaknesses of several of the Risen accompanying me and direct her allies in how to best fight them before I was forced to take her out of the fight and square off against the nation's prince. In terms of capabilities, he is currently lacking, but before I could deal a mortal wound to him, your vessel intercepted the strike. Judging by your condition I believe it is safe to say that she still lives, but I did not think her to be the sort possessing a heroic streak. Regardless of that, please punish me as you see fit."
"You are dismissed," the Fell God said. "The next time such a miscalculation comes about, you will bring my vessel before me. Is that understood?"
"It is, milady." With that, the swordsman rose from his position and disappeared somewhere within the temple as he usually did. That left Vajra, who looked a far cry from their neat and well dressed self.
The doll's curling blonde hair was matted and numerous red gashes could be seen across their arms and torso where fabric had been cut apart. Half their face was red and raw, slowly recovering from some sort of spell that had hit them dead on before Laplace pulled them away from the battle without anyone's urging, a first for the divinely crafted doll. Vajra had been furious when they appeared in the temple, cursing Loki's name as they mourned the loss of their siblings, only growing silent when Claudius and the Fell God approached. The blonde woman felt sorry for the remaining doll, freshly created and already bereft of its family, but she knew it was a good lesson regardless. One did not face a foe displaying power beyond what was expected as if they were a known quantity, instead it was better for them to observe and fall back. That Flamberge, Balmung and Excalibur perished for not doing so meant that they learned the lesson permanently and drove the severity of their mistake into Vajra without fail.
"Vajra, please calmly recount your experience in the Themis Duchy to our lady and myself," Claudius requested as the silver deity glared at the blonde doll.
"Yes mother," the doll nodded, then explained everything they'd seen. The majority of the duchy had been easy pickings, near defenseless or too slow to react before each settlement was in flames or a smoldering ruin. When they arrived in Nomos then encountered some resistance from the mage's college and duchy's defenders, but they quickly forced back both groups and turned the majority of the duchy's capital into a crater filled, ashen barren. From there they'd gone about picking off strong individuals while waiting for the Summoner to appear. When he arrived, Vajra was the first to find and attack him—him and the noble he'd had brought along—striking at him with several Boltings before finally grazing the man and forcing him into hiding. While he and the noble hid, Excalibur contacted Laplace and had the latter send their agents after the duo any time they tried to rest until they were cornered by a particularly component group of warriors that forced the Summoner to properly reveal himself. That was when Flamberge took initiative and attempted to slay the Summoner, the noble with him and everyone within the radius of the meteor-like spell they cast. Miraculously, the duo survived then within moments, Flamberge was dead and the trio had all felt it.
After that, Balmung and Excalibur chose to back off and waited for the Summoner to move further into the city before making themselves known. Vajra had less patience than that and attacked the warrior until he reached them and...
"And," Claudius prompted.
"...He was able to best me in single combat with a number of abilities Loki did not mention," the doll answered. "We were told to expect light and support based magics and spear related techniques, which our lady corroborated, but instead he wielded a scythe, a sword nearly his size in length and a spear interchangeably and could manipulate darkness and ash as if both were as simple as breathing to him."
That led to them nearly being split in two when the Summoner brought their scythe down, only for him to move out of the way when Excalibur intervened and Balmung followed. The trio had a brief exchange before the Summoner tried singling them out again and pierced through the divine protection they'd been granted before they could escape and Excalibur brought a building down on them. Balmung chided them and ignored the warning Vajra gave, just before they were cut down by the Summoner with a lightfast strike. That enraged the remaining two dolls and they worked in tandem to try and take him down once and for all, but all was for naught: Excalibur engaged the Summoner in single combat while Vajra readied long range support to trip up the summoner, but when they hurled their bolt they sky split and pink lightning struck both dolls. Before Vajra could react and ready another attack, they found themselves back in the temple just as they felt Excalibur die.
"I see," Claudius breathed. "You poor thing. Would you like me to make the pain go away?"
At the very least, she could ease their pain and send them into oblivion's sweet embrace with naught but a word if they so desired.
"No mother," the doll said evenly. "I want the Summoner's head on a pike and everything he loves salted and destroyed."
"Truly? That is a path that will be hard to accomplish as things are now, Vajra."
"Then I will make it possible," the blonde snapped before dipping their head. "I should have died there, not Excalibur. If I hadn't held them back and taken so long, they'd still be here. I need to rectify that and doing so starts with killing the Summoner."
Neither the demi-human nor the doll expected the Fell God to laugh.
"I see then that we truly are cut of the same cloth, Vajra," she smiled. "I believed you to be a reckless waste of power, but now I see that you only needed focus and direction. If killing Nicola is the direction and path you wish to follow, I shall offer you my utmost support." The smile took on a sinister light as she continued. "But you must earn your power and revenge. When I am better, we shall train and refine your power, else any attempts you make on the Summoner will fail as this attempt did or worse. Given time, I will turn you into a weapon capable of ending that man when the time comes, but you must make it to that point. Do you believe you can?"
The last words were taunting, almost insulting based on tone, but Claudius saw the glimmer in her doll's eyes nonetheless.
"I will, without fail," Vajra nodded, kneeling.
"Good, your first order is to go and grieve until you no longer feel the need. Grief will be a distraction in the days to come and your full attention will be required if you want to glean anything from myself. Is that clear?"
"Yes, master."
"Good." The deity's grin stretched slightly upwards. "You are dismissed. When you are ready, find Claudius and she shall lead you to me."
With that, the silver haired deity turned and stalked away... or would have had her balance not nearly failed her. Claudius was by her side in an instant and soon the two were out of Vajra's line of sight.
"Was that truly wise, milady? I was almost certain you would kill them," Claudius said once they were out of earshot.
"That was my plan before you preempted me and asked them what they wanted," the deity replied, no longer speaking verbally. "I saw a glimmer of myself in their eyes, what I once was. Lost, alone, angry, something that could be nurtured into a far better state. At least, that is what a part of me believes. Another part believes I should just reclaim my spent power from them, but I will wait and see."
"I see, then I will question you no further, milady."
"Good, now carry me. Walking has become a chore and I feel the need to rest growing with every step."
"As you command, milady. When you next wake, shall we take Loki to task in regard to her less than accurate information?"
"No, not this time. It appears that both of us were unaware of Nicola's abilities proper, thus he needs to be observed far more closely. Thankfully, the trickster has proven herself useful and given us eyes and ears across the halidom. Only time will tell how truly useful they are, but I imagine they will make the next piece of history rather trivial to re-enact."
"Oh?" Claudius did not expect an answer, but the Fell God offered her an enigmatic smile in place of silence. There was yet another mystery involving the deity, but it was one for another time. If her lady required rest, who was she to keep her from it?
Lissa awoke with a gasp and it took her a moment to regain her bearings. She was sharing a room with Maribelle and Robin within the former's manse and it was exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes past midnight. She ignored her knowledge of the precise time as she nearly bolted from the bed, stopped only by her dear friend's arm tugging at her.
"Darling, is something the matter," her groggy and rather injured friend asked.
"N-no," she stuttered. "Just need a bit of air then I'll be right back."
Had she been more awake, Maribelle would have protested more no doubt. Instead she gave a sleepy nod and let the princess slip out of bed without complaint. Without a sound Lissa tiptoed over Robin's resting form and out of the room, leaving the door just slightly ajar. She quickly made her way down the hallway until she came across one of the mansion's windows peering out into the ashen ruins of the once great city.
Her heart tightened at the sight, she could practically feel the death in the air, but she and the Shepherds had done everything they could during the day and the Pegasus Riders were doing what they could even now. Small motes of flame danced through the night sky, occasionally swooping down and rising moments later. There were still people to rescue and still people trapped, but the princess hadn't come to gaze upon the husk that had been Nomos.
She placed a hair on the window and felt the cool touch of the glass. Then the cool spread, racing from her cold fingertips in cool streaks as the window frosted over. Cold fog fell from the window, swirling along the floor as the frozen glass took on an eerie blue glow and ice spread along the walls and ceiling. Then the window became reflective like a mirror of smooth ice, but the woman reflected on the other side was not Lissa.
She appeared to be older than the princess by a few years, with an air of regal maturity and proportions more akin to Maribelle's. Her hair was golden blonde and faded to a pale blue as it fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were a clear teal and her complexion was peachy and full of life, but her expression appeared to be lost. She wore a modest nightgown of shimmering blue and white tones with long, flowing sleeves. One of her hands slowly rose and placed itself along on the mirror where Lissa's hand would have been and the princess felt warmth spread to her hand as the reflected woman gained some sense of clarity.
"Ah, it's you again," she greeted, recognition audible in her tone as her eyes locked with Lissa's. "Was there something you wanted to know?"
"C-could you tell me everything," the princess asked. "Everything you know about, Nicola?"
A/N: Not much to say here that I did not cover in the last note. As a reminder, I'll be taking a few weeks off from writing this troy to work on other projects and make sure my future plans make some semblance of sense. Beyond that, thank you lot once more for reading this story, it means a lot to me—more than you probably realize(More than I probably realize beyond being an anxious mess and such).
If you like this story and want to find more stories by other authors for Fire Emblem and other fandoms alike, please visit the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (Code: 9XG3U7a). There are plenty of brilliant writers there, but you aren't obligated to write if you join—in fact hanging out is just fine—and the community is a nice combination of decently relaxed and full of chaotic energy on multiple levels. There's also a Podcast on Spotify called the Fanfiction Treehouse Podcast and a YouTube channel by the same name (Fanfiction Treehouse) if you fancy either. Regardless, stop by if you want to and I'll see you in the next chapter.