A/N: I do not own Darkest Dungeon or anything affiliated with the brand. This is just fanfic from an amateur writer. Warning: World Building, Unreliable Narrator, Dark, Everyone is Broken, Flashbacks, Horror, Death, Stress, Traumatic Pasts, Human Trafficking, Abuse, Child Abuse, Rape, Hey Did I Mention Dark? Cheesy Romance, and Gamer tropes. I do not make any money off this story. Thank you for your time and my gratitude to Red Hook Studios.

"Talking"

'Thinking'

Memories

Casting/Skills/Words of Great Power or Meaning

The Ancestor Speaks

The Others

Previously

Now my 4 heroes, the entirety of them, are on a short scouting mission to get the feel of the Ruins. Light, I pray that they return, I do not want them subjected to the horrors my Ancestor left behind. But if we can are to have any sort of future needs must.

Ch 9: The Ruins of What's to Come

I keep half an eye out on my team as I perform paperwork. Laughing and rolling my eyes at the Lord's Ring as it dramatically recounts their actions. By announcing their skills in dodging, landing devastating blows, chancing the low-light, or- We both froze with my blood chilling into a familiar rage. 'How Dare Reynauld Steal from Me!'

I fully turn to my screen which was showing my heroes throughout their adventure. I could prompt them with nudges of intuition and Power to perform certain skills or actions. Most of the interactions were the correct ones, much to my surprise. I was pleased when I realized I could use my illusions for scrying on my Claimed…but now…now I'm nowhere near as happy. I watch as Reynauld stuffs another bag into his pockets as the other heroes look away. No, I'm not happy at all.

'So that's why he was Forsaken in the first place. Willem could happily sit back as others were ruined, slaughtered, and pillaged. But steal from him? That would set him off.' I grimly recount.

"Caretaker!" I bark out, and he appears in my doorway.

"When the heroes return, ensure that Reynauld knows that he is summoned to my study. Whatever the heroes have gathered, they will not keep. Their pay has been forfeited until their next mission. I'm certain they will know why."

My power shrinks and grows in suppressed rage. Lights flicker, shadows crawl, and the Caretaker's ever-present grin grows wider. "It would be my honor, my Lady."

"My Lady, we have scrouged that area of the ruins and brought back a map. So we will have an easier time entering the next quest."

"I'm glad to hear of your victory, though I must regret to inform you that the Ruins are an ever-twisting labyrinth. Whatever you may have noted will likely not be the same. Only with the death of the Bosses and Lords sealed inside…With the reconquering of the Land. The corruption that lingers will abate—allowing the land to settle into order once more.

Scouting serves the purpose of gaining information on what lies within a dungeon. Such as the curios found in those twisted halls or what monsters reside within. For that…that does not change so easily.

That being said…I've run into something of a quandary lately. And I'm curious about your thoughts."

I stand up and stare at the moon outside, my back towards the crusader. "Lately, one of the townsfolk has taken to stealing from me."

"How absurd! That cur should be punished!"

I clasp my hands behind me, the Lord's Ring gleaming, "Well, I'm glad you agree. Now the Hamlet would be stronger if I kept them alive. I also need to factor in that I don't want to kill them. So I need to figure out how to punish them. In your opinion which would be better? Swift but intense pain or drawn-out suffering? Each will come with monetary compensation."

"Both, My Lady. Such a scoundrel to steal from you deserves no less than both." He answers absolutely and wholly certain.

I turn around with blue eyes transitioning into bloody red. Darting shadows snake through his armor. I ask sadly yet firmly, "Are you certain of that Reynauld?"

He gulps and kneels on both knees. The understanding dawns on him, and he replies, "I stand by what I said. The scoundrel deserves both…I deserve both."

With that said, the shadows strike. Gouging his body in ripped bloody lines and lightning frying his nerves. The screams echo beyond the house. I keep him alive. For two hours without rest, I torture my hero. And I watch. If I am willing to order a punishment, I should be willing to carry it out myself.

He stayed by my side, even when he could have abandoned me to my fate. It is a weakness, but I care too much to let him suffer alone. 2 hours for 2 stolen bags worth of materials. I allow the Dark Lightning to destroy everything that isn't the few hundred gold or rations he stole. Portraits turned to cinders, busts crumbled to dust, antivenom evaporated into steam, and jade collapsed into useless grit.

Finally, it was over, and he fell like a puppet without strings. His voice was long lost, and I allowed my Power to run as a balm over him. Preserving his life and restoring enough to seal the wounds. I pick him up and cradle him, my Power holding the weight. He is scared of being abandoned, and this is the only comfort I can justify.

Swiftly I move through the dark halls, placing him in a salvaged room in the servant's quarters. As far from the Caretaker's room as possible. An orb of power casts a soft red on the room. Painting it in my colors and radiating patience and peace. Protection against his fears of being Forsaken once more and the very real danger of my shadow.

"The party has been informed as to why their pay was withheld?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Walk with me."

The shadow follows.

He waits patiently for an explanation while I cook us a meal. The pantry is full of various spices and foodstuffs. The Caretaker assured me, pleased as a cat presenting his kill, "That not a gold coin was wasted on its acquisition."

This did not settle my mind on the matter, but the stomach is pleased. As he is wont to do, his notes are out. Studying how I use magic and power to assist me in otherwise menial peasant work. I'm certain that it pleases him in some shattered and ripped corner of his soul that I am cooking for him. Another issue of pride I suppose.

I fry the salted fish in lighting before placing it to sear with the sauteed onions and pork fat. He grimaces at the use of Light Magic with the advanced Fire magic but still makes notes. 'Might as well explain my thought process. I don't want him ruining my plans or killing the thief in my name.'

"I want the crusader alive." I coat the fish in smoking fat, as I talk. The Caretaker stops his notes and listens to the explanation.

"Corpses are aplenty, but healthy hearty men skilled in combat are fewer. Less so when accounting for those who will fight for me. So he will live." The onions are stirred around the fish, and greens are added to soak in the flavor.

I continue, "That does not mean he is in any way forgiven. I am soft, not stupid."

The Caretaker helpfully points out, "You are a woman."

I roll my eyes and dash some holy water across the dish to spite the dark man.

He points out my petty behavior with a pout, "Very much a woman."

"Indeed, Great Wise Man. You have extraordinary insight and the intelligence to not only understand but also state an obvious truth. Though if you're not interested in having him under your heel?-"

He grins maliciously, his good mood restored. "Why my Lady, it would be my pleasure to serve you in this."

I float a bread basket and the finished platter to the dining room. Where he serves my plate and then himself as I sit at the head of the table. A habit I commanded him to undertake. Even though I was cooking for us, he would be reminded that he still serves me.

He resisted at first but seemed to settle down at the understanding that while I would treat him as a peer he was never allowed to forget that I was his Lord. He was still beneath me. It burns his pride at the fact that The Great Dark Sage is a Lap Dog to a barely-grown slip of a girl. Who was only above him by the luck of being born as a Lord. And none of his Power, his skills, or his accomplishments will change that fact. Ever the steward and never the master. The Lord's Ring gave a ring of delighted laughter.

'He does seem soothed by my skill and potential in magic. There is that.' I stop thinking and enjoy my cooking for a few moments. 'Lightening adds an interesting smoky flavor. I'll use it more often when he annoys me. The lard drippings do complement the bread quite nicely.'

With our meal finished, I set some ground rules. "With the crusader, I want him alive, and in fighting condition when his time is served. That means no maiming, cursing, jinxing, maddening, or accidents ."

The Caretaker's mood sours at his plans being foiled.

'Good thing I'm being explicit. Now to soothe his ruffled feathers. No need to poison the well that I drink from.'

"Rather, I would have him be your attendant, gopher, or whatever title you prefer. You are a Powerful man with many tasks. He would be suited to take care and be directed at those beneath your worth." I butter him up, appealing to his ego. 'You'll keep him in better condition if he's of continued use to you, and maybe the work you allowed to let slip might get done.'

The flattery works as the Caretaker is appeased and makes new plans for his 'slave' in all but name. Might even be in name if he prefers.

"That being said, this will last a week and he must be returned to the manor by the end of sunset. Where he will be punished directly by me. At night he will be mine, but during the day he is your task. Clear?"

'To prevent any accidents, set a time limit on what you can do to him. You who delight in torture and suffering would be sympathetic to my "playtime." It also gives me the perfect opportunity to condition him.'

"As the Stars that Grace the Night, My Lady." The Caretaker's eyes shine in dark mirth.

"My Lady, there is something of note amongst the spoils of the latest expedition."

I look up from my cozy nook in the library. Typically, when I need a break from work, or simply the Caretaker himself, I hide away in the library. It serves a dual purpose of rest and increasing my knowledge, and thus my proficiency in the many Dark Arts my family have devoted themselves to. The most beneficial tome I've found unlocked the Great Power of Time for my Arcanist Class. 'For him to disturb something as sacred as enriching themselves in the Deep Magic, it must be severe.'

I look at the offering he set on the table beside me. A small glass vial filled with a sludge-like red liquid. The candlelight glints off the intricate ironwork that's wound around the glass. When I pick it up for closer examination, I am insulted and unamused by the potion. There is a slight charm and compulsion, singing the siren song of the forbidden fruit.

'To think me so weak- As if it could ensnare me.' My Power reaches forward and-

Blood. Hunger. Madness. To feed and be fed. A promise of strength at the cost of eternal hunger.

'Typical of a gift from the Dark. I don't see what's so unique-'

A waterfall of Blood cascades from a stone throne. Promises of decadence and Power to those that are worthy of Her. A New Lord. A New Purpose. Eternal Pleasure and its Pursuit. To Increase Her Power and Glory. To Expand Her Conquest. Partake and Sup. Be Born Anew.

My temper snaps and my Power snarls at the Rival who is trying to infest my Lands and Poach my Heroes. To force them into becoming her thralls and servants. Not by will or consent but by trickery and curses. 'She Dares to Try to Steal From Me!'

A Great Depth of Darkness gently suppresses my Writhing Shadows. Old, understanding, and eager to partake. I turn to the Caretaker who can so easily overwhelm my Power with his own. Proof enough of my weakness to my servant. "Please, My Lady, not in the library."

I withdraw my shadows and ponder. Keeping my Power tightly bound in my skin. The Caretaker makes a good point, the knowledge here is priceless and one of the few things the Caretaker genuinely cares for. There are no benefits for lashing out and a great deal to lose.

'I need to revisit my Mind Palace to figure out why my temper has been so hair-triggered lately. I've had much greater reign on my Power before arriving here.' I ponder and look within. Realizing, 'Before I was claimed by the Estate. It's not solely my anger that I feel, and it's also feeding it. Before I needed to keep my Power hidden to stay alive. Now I can use it at will and freely do so. The Estate is corrupting me through my vice and indulgence. Tsk. Something to address later, now though…'

I examine the accursed promise of just a bit more time. The insidious drug of Black Magic. A small voice cries in surprise from my soul, 'Wait, hold on. I never played that DLC…' My mind blanks, sharp pain piercing through my mind at the forbidden thought, and it is lost. With deep unease and uncertainty, I look at the vial I know but do not. "Caretaker, I take it you have some information for me?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," The Caretaker bows humbly.

'He absolutely does, but it's probably his curiosity and the Estate's will to keep me in the dark to test me. Light damn them. Let's take what is told with an ocean's worth of salt.'

"I recall hearing something about the Crimson Court. A place sealed off long ago, they were rising to prominence around the same time as The Ancestor."

'Of course, he had a hand in this. Fuck me, how many messes of his am I to clean up?'

"Sadly, most of the information on them is lost. Though there are rumors of their Lady of Blood. A court that must consume blood to not only keep strength but their own lives. A craving so strong, they will do anything to partake. She was a gorgeous creature, charismatic and charming. Why she almost ensnared me." He giggles as he reminisces on his memories.

'That's all I'm going to get out of him.'

"Caretaker," I attract his attention before he realizes his slip.

"When the crusader is under your command, minor hexes are allowed. Remember at the end of this, he must be alive and fighting fit."

I pass the vial back to him, as his smile grows and ideas swirl. His gambit worked, though not to the extent that he would have preferred-

"Keep the vial safe with the provisions. I have a feeling it will be needed. Sooner as opposed to later."

'Unholy undead, cultists, brigands, various beast-men, and now Dark Damned Vampires! …What is next? Werewolves?'

Omake: A Lady's Value

'I just need some time to myself. ' I release a breath of anger and search the library. Away from the greedy traders who see easy gold, and try to trick more of me. Scornful citizens who barely hide scoffs and hateful whispers.

My heroes, my men! Looking at me with hate and bitterness. They're the ones who stole from me! Even when I saved them by giving them a way out of whatever predicament they got themselves into! I grit my teeth at the ingratitude and arrogance, 'I gave them a choice! Evidently, I'm better than death or torture, but not by much.'

The only one not cursing me with every thought or look is the sole one that I'm torturing. The only one that stole from me and not simply turned a blind eye to it. 'And isn't that surprising? The holy warrior. Devout to the Light. Is the only one I've in any way wrong. Even if it is by merit.'

My heart softens as I remember how Reynauld curls into my touch and submits to my magic. Even if it's conditioning…I'm not free from its effects. 'His trust…' I swallow, and reaffirm my decision, 'I was right to spare him.'

For once, I'm not searching amongst the great tomes of magic, 'An Adamos. The noble family of mages and arcanists. Well-earned of no end of curses and grudges. ' but the mundane side of things. Using not my eyes but trailing my hand across the spines. It stops, and I pull out a military manual with a fully armored knight prominent on the cover. Lance up and horsed in an elegant pose.

I'm craving some comfort, and if it's through fantasies so be it. It doesn't stop the small smile or my indulgence in nostalgia.

I'm four and run towards the front gate at the sound of trumpets and war drums. There's a grand procession of knights who make their way to our manor. My eldest brother was at the forefront, wearing the full armor of a dark knight. He's an easy 7 feet by himself. With his massive stallion, they tower around 17 feet tall. Easily 3 to 4 feet taller than any of his mounted men. I stop and taste the air. There's another Lord beside my brother.

'Where?'

My brother spots me, and I can tell he's happy to see me. This makes me very happy and bubbly. Other than Guar, he's my favorite person. He urges his horse to trot near me. The air sparks with the presence of two Lords, and I'm fascinated.

'Beast Lords are rare!' but somehow remember my manners. With a clumsy courtesy, I greet, "Lord Theodoric Kyros Willibarn Adamos and honored guest welcome to our home!"

I stumble and quickly return to poise. My face is burning as there is no doubt Mother would hear of my blunder. 'Hours and hours again of lessons.'

My brother uses his lance to pierce my coat and use it to bring me closer to him. With experienced hands, I land in his lap. He's firm as he directs my form to ride side-saddle. A proper way for a lady to ride, and thus one less reason for Mother to punish me.

With a hand that covers my shoulders, my neck not even filling the gap between his thumb and other fingers, he uses the other to pat the neck of his companion. The Beast Lord whickers in response and questions, "Why was a nosy brat pulled on him?"

He is not able to communicate in a human tongue, but Sincerity reveals his intent. My brother most certainly knows beast speak, and tactfully ignores his companion's question. He's much more interested in showing me how to pet the horse.

Some of his elite forces settle in their saddles and chatter comfortably. Their tension eased at seeing me, and relief at my brother's smitten actions. I know my brother acts differently when I'm around, and they know it too. The newer men gape at their commander. Wisely they keep it quiet and don't distract their master. A happy lord is easier to deal with. They quietly disperse amongst the servants to the extensive stables and barracks.

With childish glee, I follow my brother's example and softly stroke the magnificent beast. Its black fur is very glossy and glows in rich health. His muscles ripple as he looks back at me. I admire him and vibrate in happiness, joy, and admiration. Sincerity and Love (I don't know the name of it yet) radiate toward him.

He snorts and stamps a hoof before returning to his vigil. "Acceptable for a foal."

My brother preens at the beast's approval of me and pats my head. I lean into his touch as he ruins my hair. Another thing that mother will tut about later. I can't bring myself to care now.

The horse turns an ear back at us, "Why this creature?"

My brother's stress spikes, and he gathers the courage he needs to speak. He swallows, and his helmet tilts to the entrance hall. Mother isn't there. She's waiting for him to come to her, and Father would never bother with him.

The first son came before she ever met her husband, and Theo was never allowed to forget this fact. Even when it's my brother's spoils that my parents glutton on or his conquered manor that shelter's us. His victories made way for Mother's political ambitions. Hard and soft powers. Lord and Lady. Collectively, they have a good half of the Greater Empire under their thumb.

To anyone else, he's unafraid and unconcerned. To me and my new friend, he's an open book. I shuffle closer to him, and the beast loosens his muscles. He was readying for a charge. Theo places a strong hand on both our heads, and bravery shines through.

"Well Lenore, may I present to you, Lord Horse."

I laugh at the original name. My brother is not known for his creativity. Lord Horse snorts and shakes his head, "I am what I am. Why do you humans insist on cursing yourselves with more?"

"My lord husband and your good brother."

I blink. Suddenly very afraid for the second person who bothers to play with me, ' That's trouble.'

And confirm, "You've entered a marriage binding? Mother already has a Lady picked out to become your wife."

His spine steels itself as he waits for my judgment, "Yes. I've made my choice."

"It's done?"

"It is done."

I nod with all the certainty of a toddler dispensing worldly wisdom, "Then Mother can't do anything. Gods made it so men could only enter a marriage binding once. You're both males, you can't get remarried. Mother can't go against the gods."

I then tilt my head, "But. You're the heir. How will you have kids?" I look at their sizes and try to puzzle them out.

Lord Horse whickers in derision, "He would be so lucky to have my attention. No, you two leggers are too weak and slow. Only a proper mare is worthy."

My brother relaxes for some reason and loops an arm around me. It's the closest thing to a hug allowed in public. He explains, "Concubines. It's a marriage for Power, not children. Our blessings are perfect compliments. Instead of the typical synergy boost of x3 that being together would bring, with the marriage binding, it increases the boost to x9."

I point out, "But male energies can't enforce and bolster the other. They typically need female energy. That's one of the main reasons they're so wanted."

Horse starts to amble to the stables while listening to my brother. Theo corrects me, "Males can strengthen each other, but it's always temporary. Our boost," He gestures to his husband, "Can only activate if we're together. Even then it can only last so long until we have to renew the buff. Females are valued because they can give a permanent boost to the male. It matters not if she's present or hidden away."

He tugs the reigns, and I straighten my spine at his stern tone, "That boon can only be given twice through your first night and your marriage binding. While as a female you can remarry once your husband dies, your boost to the marriage binding will get watered down. Don't waste it, and guard yourself vigilantly. Those are your more valuable bartering tools."

There's a slight stutter to Horse's walk. My brother explains more to his husband than to me, "A Lady's virginity will increase the stats and abilities of any powered male. The power will double itself 3 times if the woman has given consent."

He glares at imagined enemies, and I'm pressed against his chest, "But the gods can be merciful. If a Lady does not consent the male will only get a measly 10% raise in stats alone. It's a bitter consolation prize compared to what can be won. So anyone in the know will go out of their way to gain the Lady's approval first. Courting and gifts are the usual means of gaining access to such a boon."

Horse bobs his head in understanding. Clearly, some unusual behavior from before is now understood. I'm pulled closer to my brother as he's lost to memories. His Power probes mine to search for any harm, as concern and anger bubble under his skin.

He knows men. He knows war. He knows that our family has no shortage of enemies. I can feel how he notes how small I am against him. His Power hisses and swirls around me in a protective rage.

Lord Horse looks back at me with consideration but decides, "puny two-legger." It doesn't stop his Power from wrapping both of his riders in protective ownership. Their energies swirl and harmonize into a maelstrom. Ill winds whip around us as the air colors with a red haze. All torchlight is reduced to half or less. Even the sun hides in the clouds from their combined aura. 'There is no way mother did not feel that.'

My brother emits a strong feeling of pride and relief. The protective rage remains but two are greater than the sum of their parts. I'm awed at the mark of "herd" and the display of Power marking me. Not a claim. I don't belong to them, but a warning against anyone who would try. It's a high honor, and I try to reciprocate. Sending out feelings of "Love, welcome, and home."

There was another stutter in my good brother's walk, and both of his ears flicks back toward us. Lord Horse mules over the invitation and accepts. My soft red magic joins the rich crimson of my brother's. It's a small string compared to the maelstrom, but my brother welcomes the intrusion. I try to mark them as favored by my blessings. By Fortune and in no small part of borrowing their power, it worked. Not an attempt to claim or conquer each other, but a promise.

We agree to Love one another and in Sincerity will always be able to understand each other.

With Fortune forever favoring the Bold charge of Calvary united with Horses.

That Calvary and Horses will always have a place in the romance of Love, and their united classes would place an ideal on its protection.

That the Bold will seek out and pursue Love and would be rewarded with Fortune and purpose for its efforts.

The maelstrom swirled to a crescendo, and all of our blessings and concepts were changed. Now interwoven to enforce each other, if only in the periphery. Our penalties are reduced, and benefits are strengthened. Even the heroes already sworn to the two Lords received a small boost to their primary stats. The world stilled as the Lady of Gamble and Etiquette rose from her throne and came for us.

It turned out there was a third way for a Lady to permanently increase a person's power. Her daughter just found it. My brother realized that as well. Drunk off a power high and imbued with pride, he clutches me like prized loot. Debating with himself if he should turn around and run off with me.

'I wish he had.'

He decides otherwise. Theo covered me in a protective stance as Lord Horse turned to the entrance hall. They're united in my defense and secure in loyalty to each other. The inside of the building turned onyx black with reaching shadows.

The servants ran. The older ones are quiet and focused on speed. The numerous newer ones screamed and panicked, a step slower, and more than a handful were caught. Shadowy tendrils wrapped around whatever leg, arm, or hair it captured and dragged them into the Dark. I know better than to expect to see them again.

Yet the Lady Adamos stepped out unharmed. She assesses the damages and the threatening Lords. Anger rolls off her in bone-chilling winds, and she looks at my brother with fresh eyes. Now there is fear when she looks at him. He's been upgraded from an unwanted cripple and useful pawn to a fellow predator and an obstacle. My brother's shadow looms around her in silent threat.

'He's cutting his strings.'

I open the book as it points out the strategies my brother once favored. I pretend to read, 'I did not know it then, but my brother went out of his way and against social norms for me. Lords are highly territorial by nature and ruled by their blessings. To find two that can cooperate is rare, two that can share is almost unheard of, and three to harmonize…without bond or oath? No, my brother broke every standard as it suited him.'

I can feel tears forming as I blink them back, 'Mother didn't like that.'

A/N: Yay, a stopping point. Yup Lenore is a reincarnated OC. Did you think those OP blessings and perks were there just for a whim? Nope, she made a deal, and those are part of the benefits package. She has experience in the Darkest Dungeon game, and that's why she was so driven and desperate to get as much aid and power as she could.

Reincarnation is not a simple process, and most memories do not stick around for the process. Also, the morals and values of the world she comes from would have seen her killed or tortured in this one. So it's also a matter of business and protection. Though her soul does retain relevant information about this world, which is then forwarded to Lenore as intuition and Insight. What is forbidden to the conscious mind, the subconscious can hold safely in their soul.

This is also a reflection of the fact that I'm only now trying the Crimson Court DLC, to increase the difficulty and tension of the story. I don't want her to be perfect and all-knowing. Also, I'll be rolling checks against her Insight to see what her soul can effectively advise her in certain scenarios. When her Insight does get strong enough her memories of the game get clearer, but that's probably only going to happen around the late game.

This chapter was also to serve as a wake-up call to Lenore. She's been getting power drunk since she arrived and needed to be shown that she's not even close to the power and skill level she needs to be at. Torturing people who can't fight back is one thing. Conquering something equal or greater is a vastly different undertaking. When you can't overpower someone? It's time to prepare, plan, and use every advantage you can scramble for.

Why was Reynauld spared? Because I want that blasted achievement of getting him and Dismas to the Last Dungeon. So I needed to justify his living and not being made an example to the other adventurers.

Thankfully, he worships Lenore at this point. He is a religious man who never puts too much value on romance. In his background comic, he abandons his family to remain at the Church or return to the Battlefield. If he's going to truly love someone it would be as reverent worship or comradery. He sees her as a Saint of the Light and acts like it. That sort of loyalty and devotion is not something that can be bought, and Lenore is very much broke at this point. So yay, he lives.

The omake? Worldbuilding. As I'm editing my work, I thought it would be a good idea to add a bonus for my rereaders. There is a lot to expand upon that would clog up the main story, so this helps give me another farm for the plot bunnies. Also, Lenore needs some characterization, so there is that benefit as well.

Ciao lovely folk.