The journey back to Mohgwyn Palace was long. Along the way they passed through Stormveil Castle despite Malenia's protests; she anticipated furious retribution from the grafted lord she had once humiliated long ago. Of course, she should have expected the Tarnished, seasoned as he was, to have dealt with Godrick ages ago by now. She was perplexed when the troops within granted them passage, and shocked to discover that a young woman now sat upon the throne as ruler of Limgrave. Lady Nepheli, as the astute noble who bid them welcome called her, was delighted to see her old ally and utterly flabbergasted to lay eyes on Malenia.
They did not stay long, however. Kenneth, Nepheli, and Gostoc all bid them farewell, and onwards they went, through Liurnia, the Erdtree plateau, and even the capital whose walls once refused all, until they arrived at the old, familiar snowfield she called home. Through the waygate, and back up the palace mountainside, Malenia was finally able to fall to her knees before her brother's cocoon.
It took everything in her power not to break down crying yet again as she caressed her brother's hanging hand with her own. He was… malformed. All that cursed blood Mohg had used to feed him—it had changed him. Dry, almost scaly skin covered his oversized, gaunt hand, his fingers long and bony; the unmistakable body of an Omen. The Tarnished had faith that Miquella would heal, but that only did so much to alleviate Malenia's woes. Over and over again did she curse herself for allowing all of this to happen as she, Finlay, and the Tarnished all bore Miquella home—well, Finlay and the Tarnished did most of the heavy lifting; both of them insisted that the tired, battered Malenia instead carry only the shattered prosthesis and bloodstained katana that had been lost after the battle against Mohg. She reluctantly obeyed, but did not stray more than a pace away from them as they carried her brother back home.
As soon as they arrived at the Haligtree, his massive chrysalis, alongside Miquella himself, dissolved into flecks of gold as his cultivation absorbed him back into itself. Returning to the roots of the tree, Malenia was utterly relieved to find him interred within the empty chamber she had watched over for so long. He was back. He really, truly was back.
His presence occupied no space in her mind like it did during the battle with Mohg. Malenia should have been terrified, but somehow she knew all would be well. He simply needed his rest. He was going to be alright.
Malenia held his oversized hand for a long, long while. Eventually, however, she knew it would be best to ease it back into his cocoon with the rest of his slumbering form and let him recover. Fixing him into his slumber, she laid her open palm upon the silky material and held it there, light as a feather, yet stiff as a board.
She knew not how long she held that position. Minutes? Hours? Mere moments? The world around her seemed to grow dull and muffled as she glued herself to her precious, precious brother. Her trance was ultimately broken, however, when the sharp, distinctive sound of shifting armor met her ears. She perked up and turned around to face the Tarnished, who had begun to walk towards the entrance of her chambers.
"Where are you going?" she asked. The Tarnished stopped.
"My work here is done, for now," he replied.
Such a response compelled Malenia to press, "You are leaving Elphael?"
"Yes. Elsewhere there is much that I must do." There was a short pause, and then, "But I hope to return, with haste. Goodbye for now, Empyrean."
He turned to leave. Malenia stepped away from Miquella's cocoon, reaching her hand out towards the Tarnished.
"Wait!" she called, hurriedly. The Tarnished stopped.
"Not without thanks," Malenia declared. "Give me your hand."
There was a soft shuffling of chainmail as the knight did what he was told. Malenia felt for his hand for a moment, and upon finding it, began to trace a symbol into the palm of his gauntlet with a finger.
"I owe you an eternity of gratitude for what you have done for us all… but my poor men would only see you as an intruder in their sorry state," Malenia said, unable to bite back the rue in her voice. There was a small spark as an incantation began to take hold in the fabric of the Tarnished's gauntlet.
"I am a proud swordswoman," Malenia went on, "but my skills in incantations are pitiable. That was my brother's gift, not mine. This was all he could teach to a bluntstone like myself."
The symbol that her finger had traced into the Tarnished's glove began to emanate a faint warmth that briefly swelled before fading as the incantation was finalized. Malenia pulled back, and the Tarnished's hand fell to his side.
"That incantation is bound to your gauntlet," Malenia explained. "Officially, it marks you as a Haligtree Knight. Practically, you may raise it aloft, and my men will see you are marked as one of us. Should you return, it will spare you the pain of their opposition…"
She licked her lips.
"... and my men, the pain of your wrath," she concluded under her breath. Shaking herself out, she added, "It will also serve to unlock the Rold Lift, should you lose your medallion."
Though please do not, she thought to herself.
"Thank you," the Tarnished replied. Then, "Malenia… what can be done for your dear soldiers?"
She grimaced. "As of right now, I am afraid I cannot say," she admitted. "It… pains me to see what I have done to them. But now, with the Haligtree at last on the mend, I am certain that my brother will have the answer when the time comes."
"I suppose," the Tarnished resigned. "I pray that time comes sooner rather than later."
"As do I," Malenia murmured.
The sound of a ringing bell caught Malenia's ears. Suddenly, Finlay materialized before the two of them.
"I'd like to offer a parting gift of my own," the Tarnished proclaimed. "My bell—take it. It will summon Finlay from her sanctified ashes. But be aware, it draws from the same inner focus that your brother's incantation would."
Malenia almost hesitated to reach for it. "You are… giving me your bell?" she echoed in disbelief.
"I have no use for it," the Tarnished replied. "I see no honor in disturbing the slumber of the dead to demand their aid in battle. I would rather leave the ashes I scavenge in peace. In your name, however, Finlay agrees to pledge her service once more."
Malenia's jaw hung slightly open as she reached for the bell and wrapped her fingers around its box in a slightly tenuous grasp. On multiple occasions throughout the journey home, the Tarnished had to recall Finlay's essence from her ashes, yet not once did Malenia reflect that without his mysterious bell, she would be powerless to do the same. She stared at the bell's holster in her hand for a moment, before moving to lay it upon the right arm of her chair.
"Thank you, Tarnished," she breathed. "My owing to you ever grows."
"Empyrean, you owe me nothing—"
"So you say," Malenia said. "But the number of extraordinary deeds you have performed for me and the Haligtree in a mere handful of days is… staggering."
Backing up from the bell, and spinning to face him once more, she said, "It is my hope that, when things are right again, I may be able to repay you even one-tenth in kind. Until then, however… the least I can do is grant you a small boon.
"There is a wine cellar housed within the upper reaches of Elphael," she went on, "nestled under the prayer room through which you entered. I doubt much has been preserved, but you are free to take your fill."
"Oh, I thank you kindly, but I indulge not in drink," the Tarnished declined.
"Might I recommend the root tea, then?" Finlay suddenly piped up, before Malenia could say anything. The Empyrean nodded in concurrence.
"Yes, there is a special tea kept alongside the wine, spiritless by make. Take as much as you like," she said. The Tarnished hummed in thought.
"I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a swig of tea," he reflected. "I may just take you up on that offer."
There was a lengthy pause. Malenia's gaze started to drift over her shoulder, towards her dear brother that once again slumbered where he belonged. Before she could return to her post, however, the Tarnished piped up once again.
"Would the Blade of Miquella care to join me?"
Malenia jerked straight upright at that. Quickly, she shook her head.
"I dare not leave my post, after all these wasteful years—" she began, but stopped at the sound of Finlay's voice.
"Milady, please," the Cleanrot Knight implored. "I would watch over His Majesty for a spell, if you would have me."
"Wh-" Malenia shook her head. "Finlay, you have already done so much—the both of you have," she deflected. "I am, of all of us, the least deserving of indulgence."
"Oh, believe me, Milady, I would love nothing more than to enjoy a spot right this moment." A slight, biting humor was tangible in her voice. "But alas, this spirit form does have its… limitations, as it were."
"I am not asking for a symposium," the Tarnished said. "It is simply that… A leisurely sip of tea would do wonders for a man at war. But to partake in such a pleasantry in the company of another? I would be most grateful, Empyrean."
Malenia bit her lower lip, glancing unsurely back towards her brother. As if reading her mind, Finlay said, solemnly, "I wouldn't dare let anyone lay a finger on His Majesty, Milady."
Her stomach twisted with uncertainty. On the one hand, to walk away from her vigil after finally setting things right, after hundreds upon hundreds of years, for a mere cup of tea, seemed nigh-sacrilegious. On the other, how much danger was Miquella in, really? Not only was Mohg dead by her hand, but on her journey home with the Tarnished, she had seen plain as day that Radahn, Godrick, and the King of Leyndell were all perished. No doubt, all of it was the doing of this extraordinary knight before her. She briefly wondered if Rykard were among the fell as well. Most likely.
So many lords and kings, all standing by nature in opposition to Miquella's Haligtree, dead and gone. Threats no longer. Perhaps Miquella would be safe, if she walked away for just a spell. Besides, she admitted to herself, she was deathly curious of this Tarnished by now. Where had he come from? What motivated him to lend her his aid? How had he procured so many miracles, from Miquella's needle to Finlay's ashes, from thin air?
Just what was his aim?
It made her heart pound a bit, to nod. "Very well," she relented. "Let us sup for a spell together, fair Tarnished."
They ascended Elphael together. True to Malenia's misgivings, much of the stored drinks within the cellar had failed to keep, but there were a handful of kegs worth salvaging. The two of them sat down at the edge of the walkway, looking out over the vast sea, their tea held in round, smooth mugs without handles, more bowls than cups.
Malenia brought her drink to her lips and took a tentative sip. Any trace of warmth was totally absent, but after eons of tasting nothing but foul rot upon her tongue, the flavor was heavenly. She swirled the chilly liquid around her mouth, rinsing her teeth and the inside of her cheeks, before swallowing.
"Ahhh…" the demigoddess couldn't help but let a satisfied exhale as the cool drink slipped down her throat. Beside her, the Tarnished set down his cup to remove his helmet, then retrieved it and took a sip of his own. A pleasant hum filled his chest.
"'Tis ice cold," he observed. "But it tastes of victory."
"The wine is the celebratory drink," Malenia commented.
"Is it now? The soldiers revelled in wine when tidings were golden?" the Tarnished mused. "Whence I hail, we swilled mere beer."
"My men are no strangers to a chilled pint," Malenia replied. "But such drinks were reserved for times of war, rather than the aftermath."
"Interesting. And how does a place as distant and isolated as Elphael procure such concoctions?"
"Elphael is entirely self-sustaining," Malenia explained. "There are expansive farms on the north and northeastern ends of the city. A variety of crops are cultivated there. No livestock, however. Red meat is scarce here."
"Truly? I was told as a child that red meat was integral to cultivating a warrior's body."
"The array of foods we have is vast, for our solitary nature," Malenia said. "Wheat, potatoes, fruits, beans, fish—whatever is in meat, we have found it in our harvests."
"Very interesting." The Tarnished paused to savor another mouthful. "You called this 'root tea.' What roots are found in here, and how is it brewed?"
Malenia shifted where she sat. "Before things… went awry, it was a regular task to temper the growth of the Haligtree," she began. "It grows slow, yet wild, nourished by the blood and soul of Miquella. The tree was prone to rampant overgrowth that could choke the streets of Elphael and make things… difficult."
She pursed her lips. "No doubt, you have seen now that such a practice has been long forgotten," she remarked bitterly. "But in days that are now old, we found that the leaves, roots, and other essences of the tree could be fermented and blended like any other spirit."
"Spirit?" The Tarnished straightened. "You said this was tea, no?"
Malenia nodded.
"Indeed it is," she assured him. "When the blending and aging is complete, it gives us a drink akin to beer. But one brilliant mind discovered that, by bringing pressure to the liquid with a special mechanical device, and setting it to boil, the intoxicating nature of the drink simply… vanished. Like magic. What was left was a bittersweet substance not unlike tea. From there, two blends are made. One is stored as it came from the despiriting process. The other, for those of us less partial to bitter drinks, is infused with Haligtree sap to add a powerful sweetness."
She raised her cup. "We are drinking that of the sweetened variety," she concluded.
"I assumed as such," the Tarnished replied, then issued a short sigh. "Heavens. I had not paused to give thought to how this place came to be, nor how it stayed afloat… pun not intended. What little of this vast city-castle I explored… it seemed almost curated for my adventure, in hindsight." He let out a breath of awe. "It was so easy to forget there lay an entire people within these walls."
There was a long, long moment of silence afterwards, before the Tarnished shook himself out and asked, "The spirited kind of root tea—is it kept as well?"
"Yes," Malenia affirmed. "The sap of the Haligtree does not keep its flavor when added to a spirit, but if it is infused into a batch of root tea, it can be refermented, respirited, and maintain the notes of sweetness. It is reminiscent of mead."
The Tarnished chuckled. "Ah, mead…" he mused, wistfully. "That was our celebratory drink, in my homeland."
The quiet that followed was long and thick. Malenia slowly turned her blind gaze back out over the sea, not wanting to stare down her acquaintance for too long. Returning to herself, she took another sip of her tea. The flavor was so heavenly that it almost brought a contented sigh from her. For the briefest of moments, she forgot her worries and woes, instead wrapped up in the relishment of a long-needed drink.
This felt… good. She really had no choice but to admit it to herself. In spite of all her misgivings, leaving her post to enjoy a simple spot of tea, and in the company of another, was something she had been right well to do. Compared to sitting on her unalloyed knickers day in and day out, waiting uselessly like a puppy at the dinner table, this was like a vacation from the world. And she cherished it, that long-forgotten feeling of relaxation.
"Elphael is a surreal vista," the Tarnished suddenly remarked. His baroque voice had fallen in pitch and volume. His chest rumbled with a solemnity that brought Malenia's gaze back over to him. "A castle the size of a demesne, wrapped around a landscape of a tree at the end of the world. Far away from anything and everything. It feels… like a gateway between this life and the next."
He stopped to savor his tea again. When he finished, he said, in a quiet voice, "This place was beautiful, once. Even now, I can see it. A beautiful, unfathomable, magical place. A last bastion of hope for those spurned by the world outside."
Another sip of tea. "It is my sincere wish that one day, it will return to its former glory," he concluded, then sighed.
Malenia stared at him with a subdued expression on her face. She wasn't sure how to respond. The Tarnished had captured her exact feelings of this place, her home, more eloquently than she ever could. She cursed herself internally for allowing things to get to this point, for allowing herself to utterly desecrate the whole of the Haligtree and everyone within. No one in this rotted hovel of a castle deserved the wretched fate with which her vile affliction had smitten them. It was horrid. Absolutely horrid.
At least now, with Miquella deep in his slumber, things could one day be right again. Malenia only wished that day were today. That she could do something about it, for once. But alas, what more could she do than sit and wait, like she had always done?
The Tarnished heaved a long, slow breath that trembled under the weight of his thoughts. "Oh… Ranni," he whispered.
A crackling surge welled up in Malenia. She stiffened. Her grasp on her cup tightened.
"Do not speak that name in my presence," she snapped tersely.
"Eh?" The Tarnished's distant voice had returned with an air of… offense?
"The lies carried on the witch's foul breath are ruinous," Malenia growled. "More cankerous than even my own rot. That conniving lizard deserves not to have her name dignified."
Squeezing her cup, Malenia brought it to her lips, trying to soothe her sudden bout of anger with more of the lovely taste.
The Tarnished placed his own mug down with firmness. The woodware clacked hard against the stony ground. The knight stood up.
"You will not speak of my beloved that way," he declared in a voice as hard as his armor.
Malenia doubled over mid-sip. The utter incredulity that overcame her almost had her jaw gaping open and her mouthful of tea tumbling down her chin. Swallowing it just in time to respond, she gawked at the Tarnished.
"Your beloved?!" she half-gasped, half-squawked.
"Yes," the Tarnished affirmed. "Ranni and I are wed in accordance with Carian royal custom. She is my queen, I her king—and I will not tolerate any ill speak of her."
Malenia stared hornswoggled at him for a moment longer. This Tarnished was… was… to Ranni? How could he possibly—?
Her jaws sealed themselves shut from their agape gawk, and then her lips slowly turned up in a bitter, mirthless smirk.
"She bewitched you as well, then?" she muttered with a shake of her head. "Lured you with ideas of a new age, as she did me?"
"They were not lures," the Tarnished insisted. His tone, though blunt, was running itself along the whetstone of anger. "They were promises. I was the one who helped her bring them to fruition."
"So she contracted you to enact her dark deeds?" Malenia pressed.
"At first, yes, it was a mere pledge. But it became… something more."
"So now, consorts in arms, you two seek to bring about the age of the stars," Malenia observed wryly. "I take it, then, that she sent you here to win me over with your deeds? To forge a paltry alliance once more?"
"... What?" The utter bewilderment in the Tarnished's voice was so abject that even Malenia felt it, in her own chest. "No. I came to Elphael of my own accord. Ranni never once so much as spoke of you."
Behind her scarring, Malenia's eyes narrowed.
"Then why did you come here?" she demanded. "Why come here, if not to win back my affections on your so-called queen's behalf, after she left me to the wolves?"
The silence that hung in the air was broken only when the Tarnished slowly sat down and retrieved his tea. The sip he took was long and slow, and when the last of the dregs slid down his throat, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Tell me first," he began. He spoke much less harshly now. "Before I share my story with you. Tell me, so I might understand your anger: What happened between you and my queen?"
Malenia's lips pursed.
"You would not understand," she said, slowly. "Devoted to her as you are. You could never understand my anger."
"I can try."
The Tarnished let his empty cup come clacking down onto the stone.
"Please, Empyrean," he implored. "I have nothing to hide. I love Ranni, and I will see her on the Elden Throne. But I am not here on her behalf. I am here—for you. For Elphael. I will not allow the dark moon to outshine my aspirations… Such freedom of will is what my queen seeks for us all, as it were."
Malenia sighed, unclenching the fist she hadn't realized she'd balled up.
"... Very well," she relented. "But you will do something, in return."
"What would that be?"
"You will tell me why you came," she began. "And… you will tell me what you see in her, that could possibly draw you to her."
"I shall, shant I?" the Tarnished mused. "But could you understand our love?"
"I can try." Malenia dryly flung the knight's words back at him.
"Hmph. Very well, then. So whence did this rift first form in the ground between you and her?"
Malenia folded her prosthetic legs, sitting a small ways away from the Tarnished. Picking up her cup of tea, her blind gaze drifted out over the vast ocean.
"It must have been millennia ago, by now," she began. "The Shattering was at its height. I received a summons from Ranni, calling me to meet with her at the Caria Manor, isolated from the war that tore apart the Lands Between…"