Have to say this real quick. Ignore Miquella's lore, specifically about his curse. That will not have any part in the story, and he will retain the body of a male in his early 20's. Didn't think about this earlier, but it is to stop 'that' kind of crowd or accusations. Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter 1


Waking up in the morning isn't typically accompanied by a screeching headache, pain in my chest, or crying.

The first two could be explained away by my many bad choices of daily consumption of sugar and other American chemicals that definitely don't need to be in my body. I was by no means a big body, seeing that I was 6"2 and only 225 pounds, and yet the bulge that was my stomach was anything but desirable.

The headache was a mystery to me, yet not exactly new. Many times have I woken up to a migraine due to stress or a hangover. Luckily, it's Thursday, so throwing 'hangover' out the window was easy. Work was as stressful as it was the day before considering the grown-ass children I had to deal with throughout the day, but they hadn't been particularly vicious as of late, so the migraine wasn't called for.

It was the crying that scared me.

I lived alone. Sleeping with the TV on was an impossibility considering it was in the living room, and I sure as hell didn't fall asleep again watching YouTube on a work day. If it couldn't get any weirder, they sounded far off, as if they were behind a wall instead of right next to me. However, the more the haze lifted, the closer they seemed to get.

I was never one for criers. They always made me uncomfortable, especially when it was my friends. I never really know what to say, and neither did they when the roles were reversed. The last time I could remember balling my eyes out was at my grandma's funeral, and that was years ago...

Wait, why am I going on a tangent about crying and funerals again?

Ah, because someone was crying. And they were close, practically right over me.

The more I thought on it, the more I felt panic begin to build within.

Desperately, I tried opening my eyes, but only met inky darkness.

This had to be sleep paralysis. It was the only way to explain it. I've experienced it quite a few times before, one particular instance while at work when I had stupidly fallen asleep on the job. I felt awake yet couldn't move a muscle no matter how much I screamed at my body.

It was, and still is, extremely frustrating. I couldn't feel the rest of my body, and I wasn't quite sure why. My head and right arm felt cold and clammy, as if dunked in a bucket of water and left in a freezer. Everything else, however, felt normal, just as if I were lying on a mattress and wrapped in blankets.

I'd have thought on it more, but the crying grew louder. Through the crying, I could faintly make out a soft, feminine voice whispering between each sob. Of course, these stupid ears of mine couldn't quite pick up the words, only the general sound.

Then the sound of something slamming open echoed in my eyes, followed closely by heavy, rushed footsteps coming closer and closer. At this point, I tried screaming for their attention in a desperate hope that my lips would part way and let out air.

Nothing.

All I could see was the wabbling picture of what I remembered to be my room as the new arrival drew closer. A thud followed, the sound of a knee, or maybe even a hand, slamming against the floor.

Then I felt something caress my face, likely the hand of the new arrival. It was warm and gentle, like a lover admiring the sleeping face of their lover. Though it was soft, it was also calloused—as if the person had been working on the fields since they were young enough to carry a rake. They were saying something, but all I could hear was mumbling.

The hand moved to the back of my neck, and I suddenly felt my body being lifted. The itchiness of hair against my face made me want to scratch like no tomorrow as a head was clearly being buried into the side of my neck.

Then the wet sensation of tears touched my skin.

They—a woman, was crying, yet the renewed sobs were not her own but another.

"Oh, dear brother."

The voice was calming and broken, yet familiar. It was the only thing I could pick out as clear as day, yet I couldn't place it no matter how desperately I wanted to remember. I wanted to say something, anything, but I still couldn't speak.

"My dear, sweet brother."

It was getting closer, yet still, the voice was far off.

"I have failed you once again."

The hand gripped my hair tightened, not enough to cause pain, but enough for me to know she was hurting.

Wait.

Since when did I have hair?

Pretty sure I was bald.

...Ah, this was a dream.

That explained it all.

Sleep paralysis was just a prelude to the dream world, so it made sense. If my dream wanted me to have hair, then by all me-ACK! BREATHE! CAN'T BREATHE!

"I'm so, so sorry."

She was choking me! The woman was choking me! Her grip was tightening to the point where my breathing became the focal point of my thoughts while the dreamscape around me began to flicker with white spots. Who knew a dream could so easily turn into a nightmare.

"I should have been by your side."

That's cool and all lady, but you're killing me! LITERALLY!

"I'm sorry."

DAMN IT!

"So..."

PLEASE!

"So..."

LET...

"Sorry-"

GO!

I suddenly shot upwards, breaking the grip around me and forcing air into my lungs. Coughing followed, the dryness of my throat making itself known through the stinging pain it brought. My vision was blurry, and my ears were ringing, the remnants of the dream leaving their mark.

After the coughing had died down, I rubbed at my eyes, seeking to rid my vision of the fog that had settled over it. The blurriness slowly receded, and everything became clearer.

I was in a bedroom; that was obvious.

Problem was, it wasn't my bedroom.

The walls were a cream color with gold trimmings. The floor was wooden, the dark hue making the room appear darker than it actually was. A nightstand rested beside the bed, a candelabra sitting atop it with the candles freshly lit. An electric heater sat on the left-hand side, the warmth it emitted bringing comfort to my bones. The furniture that decorated the room looked ancient—like, great grandfather ancient if he were a noble of high standing back in the late 1700's.

The room was also large, but it wasn't overly lavish. The bed had four posters, and the comforter was a dark red, a stark contrast from the walls. The sheets were white, and multiple pillows sat comfortably along the headboard.

This was definitely not my home.

Disregarding the fact my gaming set I'd spent years and thousands of dollars on was missing, I definitely couldn't afford half the stuff in this room.

Scratch that, even if I COULD, I wouldn't waste the money.

There was also the fact that my dog was missing. Lady always slept under the cover with me, and her missing warmth was immediately evident.

And then there were the people currently circling my bed.

They weren't family, something that was pretty freakin' obvious.

The guy standing alone at the left of the admittedly long bed wore a fedora and a black long coat with blue highlights. His hair was pure white from what little I could see, and he was clearly Caucasian. I would guess he was American, but he could also pass for Russian (even if that jaw line and chin were fooling no one).

On the other corner of the bed stood a young brunette with lavender eyes and pale skin. Her hair was straight, cascading down her back and over her shoulders. The school uniform she wore was hugged her tight, a corset along with the length of the skirt accentuating interesting parts of her anatomy.

Lastly were the two girls currently kneeling at my bedside.

The younger of the two, likely no older than 13, had black hair with red highlights. Her eyes were puffy, likely from the crying, but even that couldn't distract from the fact her eyes were brilliant silver. To top it off, she wore a French maid dress, frills and all. The only thing stopping it from being fetish gear was the fact the chest area was covered completely by fabric.

And finally, the woman.

Better yet, let's just call her a goddess.

Simply calling her a 'beauty' would be an injustice to the word. She looked as if God has carefully carved every inch of her and put the result in front of me. Fiery red, curly long locks framed her face and fell down her back. Her eyes were the color of gold, and her lips were a delicate pink that looked so incredibly soft. To say she did interesting things to a certain part of my anatomy would be a lie I couldn't say even if my life depends on it.

Much like the man, she was dressed in business attire—a black suit jacket and pants along with a white blouse underneath. It felt somewhat off-putting considering how plain it was compared to her beauty, along with the fact the others were dressed more like fantasy characters. But then again, the other guy had a fedora, so what do I know?

But I digress.

All of them were looking at me in shock, as if I had suddenly risen from the dead.

And after almost a full minute of this, I had to ask the obvious question that I've been dying to know ever since I woke up.

"Who are you people?"

The shock on their faces grew, yet I didn't see none of it. I was far too focused on repeating the words I had just uttered over and over again in my head.

As a male who has a higher voice than what my face would at first make you think otherwise, I was used to lowering my tone a lot. It was a man thing, one I liked to believe a lot of us guys did to hide our own insecurities.

However, that wasn't the case here.

What came out of my mouth was a voice that I hadn't used since middle school. In fact, it didn't sound like my voice at all. It was too high, too elegant, too smooth. I didn't recognize it at all. A hand went up to my throat, rubbing it for any abnormalities that could explain why.

Then I found the second oddity.

Pulling my hand back, I observed it closely, turning it which and every way as if it would magically change depending on the angle.

Why the fuck was I white? Like, ghost pale white! I'm no scientist, but I'm sure as hell there is no scientific way for a human to suddenly change races overnight, no matter what BS Michael Jackson spat!

And why was I so skinny? I was by no means in shape, but I wasn't skinny either. MMA did wonders to keep fat off my body, even with my poor eating habits.

And where were my tattoos?! That ain't something you simply misplaced!

What the hell was going on here?!

While I was pondering my anatomy, the room moved.

Better yet, I moved thanks to the girl in the maid uniform.

With speed that shouldn't be possible for someone her age, she practically threw herself on me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I didn't know if this was her way of attacking or not, but I was far too caught off guard to react.

And once again, someone was crying into my neck while squeezing the life out of me.

"You're alive! I'm so happy you're alive!" The girl repeated over and over. It didn't take a genius to see how scared she was—how afraid she had been for the possibility of me being dead.

My mind was drawing a blank on how I was supposed to respond. I definitely didn't know this girl or the people currently surrounding my bed. The looks of relief on all of their faces were welcoming, yet I didn't think they were meant for me...whoever I was.

Looking at everyone in the room, my eyes eventually landed on the redhead. Unlike the others, her face was contorted in shock instead of relief. Once again, that feeling of familiarity wouldn't leave me, and I stared her down until I could match the face to a name.

I was unsuccessful, both because I just couldn't think of where I knew her from, and because of the snot and tears still rolling down her face.

"I'm so happy you're alive, Master! We really thought we had lost you!"

I blinked slowly at the title and name. My mouth hung open, and I couldn't speak, not sure if I was supposed to address it or not. I wasn't really into cosplay, but even if I was, this girl was far too young for such debauchery.

Pushing the girl out of my personal space, I looked at her firmly before doing the same to everyone else in the room. No matter how familiar their faces looked, I just couldn't put names to any of them. Even if I could, I was sure without a shadow of a doubt that I never knew them personally.

They were too...exotic, for one. And even if I did, that wouldn't explain what had happened to me before I went to sleep last night or why my body didn't feel or look like my own.

I looked at everyone in the room with suspicion, as if they had something to do with my circumstances.

None of them spoke, so I decided to repeat my earlier question.

"Who are you people?"

Everyone, the maid included, now shared the shock the redhead had been giving me since I'd first asked the question. I could tell that they had not misinterpreted my words, and yet their faces seemed to hold disbelief, as if the very notion of me not knowing them was impossible. I was about to push further, but the redhead spoke up.

"Brother, do you, not recognize me?"

I looked to the woman, her face now comforting into what I thought was hope and desperation. The confusion on my face was answer enough. I had nine sisters, and none of them were Caucasian, nor did any of them have fiery red hair.

Her face morphed into heartbreak, a hand raising to touch my cheek.

"Dear brother, it is I-"

I didn't hear anything past 'brother'. The moment she touched me, everything went white.

Then memories not my own began to flood my head.

It was as if a dam had burst open, allowing all the water behind to flow out.

The life of someone else, one who had died.

The life of someone reborn.

The life of a man reborn into a world not of his own.

The life of a man, trapped and alone, desperately searching for a purpose in a world that was unkind.

I saw wars start and finish.

I saw people live and die.

I saw empires rise and fall.

I saw civilizations form and slavery come to an end.

I saw political leaders scheming and friends stabbing me in the back.

I saw love and happiness.

I saw hate and sadness.

I saw the sun shine brightly in the sky, and the moon glow brightly at night.

I saw all of this—multiple lifetimes passing by in an instant.

Then I saw a ring in the desert of Israel.

I put on the ring, and I felt power.

I saw myself healing the wounded and defending the weak.

I saw myself helping the poor and destroying the unjust.

I saw those same people turn on me, and soon I turned to isolation.

And years later, I saw a woman with fiery red hair, and a beautiful smile that warmed my heart.

I saw her kindness, and felt as if I could share all my secrets with her.

I felt her love, her warmth, and eventually, I came to care for her.

Then one day, I felt something within her.

It shone bright, and it felt familiar.

I found out what it was, and for the first time in centuries, I felt hope.

I trained the woman, hoping she would awaken her new powers.

She did, and I was overjoyed.

There was someone else like me.

Finally, I was not alone.

I saw myself preparing something.

A ring.

I remember giving it to her as a present.

I remember the joy on her face.

I saw myself take her into the woods one day.

I remember feeling so much joy to the point I felt I could fly.

I remember the smile she wore when we finally reached our destination.

I felt the same joy she felt...even when I ran the dagger through her heart.

I saw the confusion on her face.

I saw her eyes begin to water.

I saw her fall lifelessly to the floor, the joy never leaving my chest.

I raised my hand, and my power obeyed.

I saw the woman's body begin to glow before it began to slowly morph and change.

I saw the woman begin to grow in height, her skin becoming paler as her form became more voluptuous.

Her clothes disappeared, and her body was now free of imperfections.

When it stopped, I felt exhausted, but I had never been happier in my life.

At first, the woman on the ground was motionless, and I felt a pooling dread in my gut.

I saw her eyes suddenly shoot open, brilliant gold eyes shining before a gasp left her lips.

I saw her sit up and look around frantically.

I remember the overwhelming joy I had before I walked up to kneel before the woman.

I cupped her surprised face, her name rolling off the top of my tongue.

"...Malenia?"

My voice was soft as I spoke her name, the disbelief in my tone evident. She looked relieved at her name being spoken, something that was shortlived as bile immediately came up my throat to be released over the side of the bed.

Immediately, the girl in the maid outfit was at my side, rubbing my back and asking me questions I didn't want to answer. When I had finally expunged everything from my stomach, I began to hyperventilate. My hands gripped my new hair tightly, and I just couldn't calm the fuck down.

My memories didn't just stop at meeting Malenia.

Yes, that Malenia.

The very same Malenia I had tattooed on my arm as a badge of honor for beating her ass on my own with no assistance whatsoever.

The very same Malenia that was a demi-god in the Lands Between.

The very same Malenia I had apparently raised from the dead in the body of her brother, Miqualla the Kind.

I had forgotten that this man was anything but 'kind'.

Christ, how I wished the memories had stopped there.

150 years worth of memories poured in after the resurrection. Everything I had done in those 150 years was anything but holy. The lies, the manipulations, the bodies...everything Miquella had done was now stored in my head, and his sins would make even the most vile villain seek repentance.

It did not at all help that I finally knew why everyone in this room looked so familiar, and what exactly had happened to me before falling asleep.

I had died.

Violently.

To make matters worse, I had died to a meme.

A literal truck has taken me out, in my own home, no less. I remember it crashing through my window, smashing into me, crushing me under its weight and...and...

The memory was far too much for this feeble mind.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but at that moment, I blacked out.

{•∆•}

The next time I opened my eyes, a ceiling greeted me.

Looking left and right, I quickly realized it was night going from the moonlight shining through the window and that I was alone with the mother of all headaches.

It took a good few minutes, but the pain eventually settled, allowing me to think clearly without the need to bash my head against a wall to stop the ringing in my ears.

Sitting up, I let my eyes roam the room. I wasn't sure how much time had passed since my little episode, and the thought of still being in a dream was a joke I didn't feel like laughing about. Try living nearly five decades in the span of three minutes and tell me whether or not you would still question your reality.

This was no dream.

All of it was real, down to the last memory.

Miquella's memories, Malenia's memories...

I suddenly felt sick again.

Just living Miquella's memories alone since he'd first arrived in this world was bad enough. Witnessing yourself revive your long-since dead sister with the corpse of the woman you'd come to love was a different type of psychotic I didn't think was even human. There were so many emotions I felt at that time, yet what made it so much worse was there wasn't even a hint of guilt.

In fact, I doubted Miquella to even be capable of such emotion considering what he planned to not only the people around him, but every living being in this world. I had always thought the people in Game of Thrones had a fucked up sense of morality, but I was proven wrong once I lived through the life of a man that was supposed to be the definition of 'kind'.

Slowly, I pushed the sheets pinning me down off before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My head felt lighter than before, the migraine all but gone as my feet touched the floor.

God, hoping off a bed was definitely a new experience. I felt like a kid again, even if this body was technically so. Everything looked tall, and the small hop from the bed reminded me of hopping out of my own nearly 20 years ago. I had to be about 5"2; 5"3 if I was being generous.

Is this how short people felt? If so, I take back every insult I've ever spat and solemnly swear to make amends by never using the word again.

I observed myself all over and couldn't help but be in awe. There wasn't a scar or blemish that I could find on this body. Absolutely every part of me was delicate, from my hands to my feet. I'm sure if I could see my face, then it would blow my mind. I remember Miquella in the game, but never really got a closer look at him considering I was too busy trying to kill him and the bullshit that was Promised Consort Radahn.

Then there was my hair.

It was long; stupidly so. It went past my feet and to the ground, stretching from the bed I had hopped down from. Absently, I ran my hand through the strands and couldn't help but feel annoyed besides its silky texture.

Who the hell needed this much hair to begin with? Anything past the back of your knees was already impractical, but stretching to almost 3 meters was beyond that.

Which reminded me of a very important quirk of Miquella.

I lifted my arms, and through my sides sprouted two ethereal arms.

I had four arms!

I had four freaking arms!

I moved them every which way, inspecting them thoroughly as if they were touchable displays. They were see-through, yet I could feel their touch and even pain as if they weren't ethereal. Dropping my arms made them disappear, yet I also found that thinking them out of existence was also a thing. I didn't know if having more than two arms was heretical or not, but it was cool.

Ah, I got distracted.

I was thirsty.

As I got ready to walk to the door, it opened, and in walked the one person I definitely did not want to see at the moment.

The redhead stopped mid-step, her gaze locked on mine. I tried observing anything but her, particularly the teacups and tray in her hand, but kept finding my eyes back on hers. The silence soon turned awkward, so I decided to say the only thing that came to my head.

"Uh...hey."

Not my finest moment, if I'm being honest. Not only did she not react, but her stare seemed to grow more intense despite there being no outward change to her expression. It made me feel like I was in front of a disappointed parent, and I needed to quickly fix my attitude before she fixed it for me.

Eventually, she elbowed the door close behind her before walking sauntering over tower over me.

And tower she did.

I honestly didn't know if she was tall or I was just that short. I only came up to her chest, which was embarrassing. Once again, I felt like a child, a feeling not helped by the way she was looking down at me.

"...Would you like some tea?" She finally spoke, her voice soft and not at all scolding. I'd never wanted a drink more than I did right now.

"Sure." I replied, and that same intense stare was renewed at my answer. It unnerved me, but thankfully, she opted to break eye contact and sat the tray atop the nightstand.

While she poured the tea, I hopped back onto the bed and patiently waited to be served. She handed me a cup and plate, which I took awkwardly into my hands. I looked at the brew wearily but took a sip anyway.

It was bitter, reminding me why I'd never had it in the first place. However, I didn't want to seem rude, so I gulped it down in one go. It was hot, and the bitterness made me want to gag, but I was thirsty, so I absorbed it like it was water and held the empty cup out for seconds.

Malenia was looking at me weirdly again, but simply poured me another glass before picking up her own and sitting right next to me on the bed.

We sipped in silence—well, I did, while the demi-god next to me seemed glued to her reflection in the brew. I wanted to say something, but honestly had no idea what I was supposed to say. I had questions, but living as an introvert for so long hasn't really helped my people skills at all.

So I stayed silent, hoping that she would be the one to start the conversation.

"...How much do you remember?" She finally spoke, her eyes glued on the tea in her hand despite the depth of her question.

I was going to answer, but thought better of it. I didn't know what exactly she meant by the question. Did she know I wasn't her brother? Did she think I had amnesia? Was this some deeper question I was meant to ponder over? Everything came to me at once, and I didn't know how I was meant to answer her.

In the end, I ended up going for the question that would less likely get a negative reaction.

"What do you mean?"

I saw the grip on the teacup tighten and instantly thought I had asked the wrong thing.

"The healers...they say, you suffered a Soul Fracture due to the experiment. That two souls within you were failing to merge, causing both souls to be damaged irrevocably. They say...they say you, died. And yet, here you are, alive, even if you do not seem to recognize my face. So, I ask again, dear brother: what do you remember?"

Her voice was steady, yet held an edge to it. It wasn't harsh, but rather, hopeful. I had the urge to answer her, but I knew that telling her the truth was dangerous. It could lead me to an early grave, and even if it didn't, I'd hate to imagine what she would do to me if she found out that the Miquella she knew and loved was no longer 'alive', per se.

My silence didn't help matters at all. She could be thinking I was trying to think up a lie, which I honestly didn't know was me overthinking or not.

I decided to go with a half truth and half lie, praying to God my lisp didn't cut me off...

Did I even have a lisp in this body?

Wait, not important.

Focus!

"I...remember what I did." I started, noting that her hands were gripping tighter to the teacup. "Up until the moment you touched me, I...remembered a life that didn't feel like my own. I remembered a new family, a new home, a job, so many things than what I was use to. Then, when you touched me, I..." I struggled here, because I didn't want to remember any of his memories. None of it was pretty, and the few good memories we did share felt more like a dream than this all still felt like.

Despite myself, I had to ask the question. No matter what she would say or do to me, I had to ask.

"Did I, really do all that? Was I really about to...to..."

I couldn't finish it. The realization of what Miquella was about to do before everything went wrong flashed in my head, and I tried desperately to shove them back down where they belonged. The fact that the woman would allow such a thing to happen despite of her own morals and principles did not make me feel any better.

"...May I speak freely, dear brother?" She asked, throwing me off guard momentarily. I gave a hum of confirmation, and she began to speak her peace, "If it does not offend you, which, soul are you currently?"

The question took me for a loop. I wasn't sure how to answer her, mostly because I didn't know. I felt like myself, the one who slaved countless hours into a profession I wasn't qualified for until I actually was, but at the same time, I had the memories and body of a being that was much more important than my other insignificant self. I felt his emotions on a personal level, lived his life, fought his enemies, and am now currently in his body. Would that not make me Miquella?

Better yet, does that mean I would have to be the man, the monster that Miquella truly was?

"You do not speak like my brother," Malenia continued, stopping my musings momentarily. "From the moment you first opened your eyes, to the first words that left your lips, I could tell you were not my Miquella. You lack his grace—his mannerism. Even the way you look upon me lacks the love I know my Miquella had."

She stopped, taking a sip from her tea as if the weight of her words did not affect me.

"Please...I must know. Are you Kind Miquella, or are you someone else?"

Once again, I stayed silent, not knowing what I was supposed to say. I was never really good at reading people, so I didn't know what would be her reaction if I told her I was currently possessing the body of her little brother. It was a stretch to believe she would kill me if I told the truth, but far more believable than expecting her to accept the fact a stranger possessed the body of the sibling she would readily kill herself for if he asked.

I'd already technically blown my cover the moment I opened my mouth, so lying was out of the question. In fact, I was 99% sure she already knew the answer to my question and was just seeing if I would tell the truth or not. The truth sounded far easier an explanation than whatever I could cook up in my head, but the fear of death kept telling me to keep my mouth shut.

"I...feel like Miquella, but I don't. Sorry if that's not the answer you wanted," was what I finally ended up saying. I felt like a coward, but at the end of the day, I was trying to save my own skin.

Malenia didn't say anything for a long moment. The grip on her teacup had loosened considerably, yet I didn't know if that was a good sign or not.

From what little lore I knew of Malenia, she was honorable, even if the scarlet rot slowly melted even that away (and let's just completely forget what she did to Caelid altogether for a moment). If she was going to kill me, then at the very least, she wouldn't let me suffer...

A picture of Radahn briefly appeared in my head, and I suddenly felt sweat roll down the side of my head.

Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, she wouldn't let me suffer.

"Your idea of 'kind' was far from the word." Malenia restarted the conversation, the tension in the room slowly fading as the words left her lips. "The things you did...the things you planned to do, were despicable. Many times I put my own pride and honor aside just so you could achieve your goals. Many times, I did deplorable things in my name as your blade. Many, many times, I turned my blade on those who didn't..."

The crack of the teacup and plate in her hands instantly grabbed my attention. Lines spread throughout the ornaments, yet not a single drop of tea was spilled. Looking up to the woman, her visage changed to pensive, as if remembering something particularly infuriating.

"The God of this world is dead." She suddenly dropped a bomb on me, not allowing me to even recover from it. "You never told me how you knew, just that you were certain of it. You said that it was only days later that you found a fragment of the Elden Ring. 50 years later, I came to being, and-" she suddenly stopped, her body tensing before she turned to look me in the eye. Her gold orbs felt like she wasn't looking at me, but Miquella—as if she wanted to say this all her life. "If I could, if my blade was my own, I would go back to the moment of my resurrection just so I could kill you and keep the memory of the kindness I died for."

I felt a shiver run down my spine, because what else should I feel when a demi-god tells you that she regrets NOT killing you?

I swallowed reflexively the moment she looked away, gathering myself and breathing steadily through my nose to slow my racing heart. When the silence that passed became unbearable, I decided to be the one to break it with a question I hoped wasn't offensive.

"Why, did you never stop me...him?"

Malenia didn't look at me, and she took her sweet ass time answering my question.

"Many centuries ago, before this world, and before The Shattering, I swore to become my brother's blade till death do us part. I swore, that as long as the stars shone, as long as the world turned, my sword would be his shield. I had, and have, no qualms against this. He was my world, my reason. If he had asked me to turn my blade against our own kin, our own mother, I would have done so without hesitation. I would have done it, because that's how much I loved you...how much I loved Miquella."

Malenia suddenly stood, going around the bed and walking towards the window. Something told me to follow her, and I did so readily, placing the teacup and plate on the nightstand before I joined her at the window.

Our view was that of a field of flowers. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands. They were of various colors, all dancing with the wind and singing along to its song. The full moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the landscape and increasing the beauty the scene held tenfold.

It was the first time I've ever seen such a beautiful scene.

"Of all the people Miquella manipulated, he had never once turned his cruelty on me." The redhead continues, her eyes glued to the scene outside. "I had no illusions that Miquella knew how I felt about his path. I knew that he could feel the disgust rolling off me, the revulsion I felt whenever I forced my honor aside. He knew that I hated what he had become, and what I knew he was going to do. And yet, even then, he had not used his gift to bend me to his will. Despite knowing it would have been easy, that I would not have resisted, he allowed me to keep my mind. It was both kind and cruel, yet I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I was loved—deeply, and truly."

Her gaze moved down, falling onto me. Her expression was calm, almost serene, and for the first time since meeting her, she smiled. It was a smile so brilliant, a smile so full of emotion, that it left me speechless.

"Despite the path he had chosen, my brother still loved me, and in spite of my misgivings, I loved my brother. How could I betray the one person I ever truly loved, and loved me in turn? Many may call it madness, but none will ever question my love, nor my loyalty, and I can forever live with that—even in the darkest pits of hell."

I was no longer scared, nor did I feel judgmental.

I was in awe.

Never in my life have I met someone with such conviction. If you don't account for the fact that she basically encouraged Miquella's path by defending him even when he is wrong and never speaking her mind when her word could have possibly led Miquella down a different path, Malenia had a loyalty and conviction that was both inspiring and frightening...in a weird sort of way. I wouldn't inspire my children to be so blinded to the point you disregard even your own morals, but I had no doubts it must feel good to be held in such high regard.

"Soooo, what happens now?" I raised the big question now that the threat of death was likely out of the picture. The look Malenia gave me held confusion, which confused me in turn.

"You are Miquella, not I. Whatever your will is to be, as your blade, I shall follow."

I gave her an incredulous look at that.

"...You realize I'm not even half of the Miquella you knew, right? That you have no loyalty to me?"

"While it is true that I have no loyalty to the body, I'd like to believe that my Miquella died in the Lands Between centuries ago, and that I've pledged my loyalty to a new lord. That Lord is now dead, and a successor now sits in his place."

My head tilted slightly to the side.

"What, are you trying to say?"

Malenia gave me a smile before kneeling in front of me, utterly shocking me in the process.

"If it is your will, I, Malenia, shall pledge my loyalty and sword to you, my new lord. Only if you would have me."

I stood frozen for a good minute at the sudden turn of events. Malenia, a demi-god, a videogame character, was on her knee pledging her loyalty to me, a nobody in my own world.

My mind couldn't wrap itself around it. It was all happening far too fast for me to process it in an orderly manner.

I tried desperately to tell myself that it was not a dream, but it all felt too unreal to think it was anything but.

I would love for this to be reality, turning my completely ordinary life into something extraordinary, but I was hesitant. I was in the body of her likely dead brother, and even if she had come to terms with it, it felt wrong. It felt as if I'd stolen someone's life—no matter how much of a monster he was. It felt like there was supposed to be a catch to all of this, but I couldn't for the life of me think what it was. I felt there were consequences, big ones that would make me wish I never agreed.

"Is there a problem, dear brother?" Malenia spoke, her Empyrean eyes proving to snap me out of my funk. I scratched my cheek nervously, trying to find the best way to speak my thoughts into the world.

"I'm, just surprised. Kinda expected you to cut my head off or something, haha." I laughed, trying to add humor to the conversation. It succeeded in making her smile, which was a sign

"I hold no grudge. If anything, I have gratitude, for my late Lord was not fit to rule. Now that he is gone, I can finally put my brother's memory to rest, and move on to guide a much more fitting lord." Pausing, her brow furrowed, turning the serenity into a threatening frown. "Unless you aim to repeat his mistakes?"

I frantically shook my head, having no interest in being a narcissistic maniac, or pissing off arguably the most skilled Swordswoman in Elden Ring. I didn't know the first thing about ruling anyway, so I could safely put world domination off of my list of new things to do in a fantasy world. "If I'm being completely honest, I just want to live a simple life. Maybe travel every now and then."

Malenia gave me a curious look.

"You wish for simplicity? As an Empyrean? It is highly unlikely fate will allow such a course when you were born for greatness."

"...Then what would you recommend I do?" I asked, and Malenia didn't hesitate to answer.

"Gather the remaining shards of the Elden ring and ascend to Godhood."

I stared blankly down at the Empyrean.

"Isn't that what Miquella was doing in the first place?" I asked.

"My late Lord saught to gather all bearers of the shards before killing their souls and reviving our departed siblings as his consorts. I only seek to ascend you into Godhood without the need to erase the souls of those in your service. It is your right, and a cause I still believe is our birthright."

...Oh. That, didn't sound like something I wanted to do at all.

"So, will you do it? Will you gather the rest of the Elden Ring and anoint me as your blade, my Lord?"

I stood silent and, for a while, didn't know what to say. In all my years of living, Godhood hadn't particularly been on my list of things to do, nor was it even on the list of possibilities. Even if it was, everything that came with Godhood didn't exactly sound appealing aside from the 'phenominal cosmic power' part.

But when I really think about it, what else was I meant to do in a fantasy world? It was a fresh start. I had the ability to start my life in a completely new direction. I couldn't see any cons in saying 'no', and there were worse things out there than becoming a freaking GOD! I've always wondered what it was like to have power outside money and influence, so why was I even hesitating?

The answer was obvious right from the beginning.

"...Alright, I accept." I quickly held up a finger to hold whatever the Empyrean had to say. "On the condition that you are there to guide me through it all, no matter the bumps or consequences. That you will always be by my side."

My words caused Malenia's eyebrows to shoot up into her hairline.

"L-Lord Brother?" She stammered, even if I barely registered it seeing that I was already beginning my reasoning.

"It's simple. I don't know the first thing about being a leader, nor do I particularly care about ruling. The only thing I want is to make the most out of my new life, and to do that, I'm gonna need a guide to both help me and keep me on the right path. I trust that as long as you're by my side, I know I will never faulter. So please, when I become a God..."

I paused for a moment, trying to quickly think of a word to use to better convey my message.

A word in particular came to mind, one that was used multiple times during the game and one I thought fit well with what would be our new relationship.

I stood tall, hoping to get my sincerity across with both my posture and the determination in my words.

"Please, be my consort."

I expected two different outcomes upon dropping the question. A 'yes' was the hope I heavily held onto, seeing that she was already practically pushing me forward. A 'no' was less likely, but understandable if she had plans other than sticking around the man who inadvertently replaced her brother.

What I did not expect was the look of utter stupification.

It looked wrong on her, for lack of a better word or phase. Malenia was supposed to be a pillar, a bastion of strength and beauty. To see her in any form less than perfect was unsettling.

Then it did a full 180, and the look of shock turned into a wide smile that threatened to split her face in half before dropping her head and pleading, "There is nothing that would make me happier, Lord Brother. I swear on this day that I shall be by your side till the end of time itself. That, is my promise as your sworn blade...and your consort eternal."

Her devotion was...strangely unsettling. The fact that she was literally on her knee and swearing her loyalty to me, a man in the body of the one she loved above all else, was more than a little unsettling, even if she seemed fine with it.

And if not to make it weirder, right after her last words, her face suddenly grew a shade of pink as a look of realization appeared on her face before she looked away.

"Um, Lord Brother? I, know I have no right to ask this of you, but...well, I'm not well versed on the specifics of modern-day courtship, but...um..." Her face grew more uncomfortable as whatever she was trying to say continuously got caught at the edge of her tongue. It was so bad that she began twiddling her thumbs. She was literally breaking character right in front of me, and I didn't know whether to find it cute or annoying that she was completely destroying the view of the woman I had in my head. "Would, um...would it be alright to, perhaps, consummate our, our... relationship...like modern days?"

...Ah.

Was that all? Was that really why she was so embarrassed?

Now that I think about it, the game never really went into detail of what a consort's duties truly were. I always thought it was some sort of partnership between two individuals, much like a master to a servant, or a lifetime contract—at least, that's what I got from playing the game.

Maybe it was different in Melina and Ranni's case. Maybe their idea of a 'consort' was much like how I first imagined, when in actuality the term meant something completely different. If it made even the blade of Miquella blush, then no doubt it meant more than my feeble mind could comprehend.

So, against my better judgment, I nodded.

"If it will make you happy, then I will do whatever it is to consummate our contract."

I expected a lot of things after those words left my lips.

What I did not expect was for Malenia to practically shoot forward from her kneeling position.

What I never expected in 1000 years was for my first kiss in this world to be with a Goddess of Rot.

The kiss was a mess, to say the least. While I'd never kissed anyone in my life, Malenia, as far as I knew, had no experience, which meant we were both fumbling through a foreign experience that would have been romantic had I not been frozen stiff and she so insistent on putting her tongue in my mouth.

Tomorrow, next week, or even a month from now, what exactly we had consummated this night would bring untold consequences the likes I wasn't ready for.

But for now, my brain could only focus on the one fact that her lips tasted like cherries and cinnamon.


A/N: Another story! And for those thinking that just because I posted this story that I'm not gonna update the other, let me reassure you that that is NOT the case! Got Nothing but Time V2 is 20 chapters from completion and I plan to finish it!

This was a weird idea that popped into my head a few weeks after the DLC of Elden Ring released. It was at first just a reincarnation fic that eventually evolved into a friend-sert comedy multi-crossover.

Yes, this is a humor fic meant to be taken seriously. It may not seem like it on the first chapter, but it will in the next few chapters. Thought about making a story that had a bit of Konosuba humor mixed in the Middle and this was the result. I have six chapters of this story already in my archive, and I plan to release the next chapter tomorrow. If people like the story, then I will definitely keep writing. If not, then I will focus only on got nothing but time.

As always, don't forget to leave a review, follow, fav, and make sure to have a DAMN good day!