The tears were bitter, made all the more sour by his rage. Nigh on a century! Decades had passed him by! He had bade Oswald to return to his duties, Owain would find him in due time. The highlord sat slumped against the exterior of the ruined church. Had he but been there, he could have dissuaded this awful war. The children could not bear the weight of the shards! Fie! He should have been mighty enough to protect Godwyn, should have survived to stop the demi-gods from falling to madness. He shouted his frustration into the dirt, uncaring that the merchant would hear him. What use was such decorum in a world upended?
He did not move when the rains began, nor when wolves slunk nearby. The man sat, head leaned back, watching the sky darken and the clouds continue to gather. Phantom grief struck him in waves. The loss of his lord, of his cherished steed, the failure of his watch, the disappearance of his lover. Would Ranni forgive him, he wondered, for dying like such a fool? Would she welcome him back with her usual biting banter? Did she even yet live? Owain sucked in a breath, this time prepared for the memory.
"For such a renowned warrior, thou doth misstep too much, methinks." Glittering cobalt eyes grinned down at him.
"Is it a surprise that hands and feet used to war are so unused to dancing?" He spun her gently, unable to tear his eyes from the way the starlight shimmered off her burnished hair.
"A surprise? Not for our first dance, nay. Though, considerin' how many years and how many dances we've now shared…" She laughed as she ran a lithe hand against his chest.
"Mayhap it is my teacher that is to blame then. What poor quality she must be to take so long in amending my steps." Owain was unable to steal a kiss from the sulking princess, who turned her cheek and stuck out her tongue.
His dance partner made sure to whip her mane of crimson hair into his face as she spun this time, he sputtered as she laughed. "Such boldness to insult a princess and attempt to steal a kiss."
"Steal? No, beloved, borrow . I'd make sure to return it just as soon as our dance ended."
Her fine brows furrowed as she humored him, wrapping willowy arms around his neck and bringing her lips to his. "Make sure thou doth not dare forget. This Sunbeam who'd be so bold as to borrow a kiss from me. Thou must always returneth it."
Owain smiled into their kiss. "Always, Starlight."
He wept anew. What cruelty these memories were, so rarely did they bring anything joyful, only knowledge that left him ever more regretful. He fell asleep alone in the rain.
Owain found Kale the next morn, leaving his many armor pieces and under leathers to dry by the man's perennial fire. When he'd doffed his chest piece, he'd found two objects tied to its inner side, a large key and an odd ring of dark stone. Its inscription was illegible, seemingly scratched out. He wondered what they were for, but no memories assailed him.
He begged knowledge of events abroad from the merchant. The tidings were not heartening. That dreg Godrick had stunk his way into Godwyn's seat at Stormveil, The academy had been closed since the war began, all of Caelid was rotted, and Leyndell had stopped still the Lift of Dectus. All problems he would need to mend.
Closer to them, wolves ran amuck in the mistwood, Fort Haight had been claimed by Godrick's cravens, sellswords terrorized the citizenry, and Castle Mourne had been overrun by vengeful servants. More tasks to add to his growing list. Recounting all this had taken them most of the morning, time enough for his things to dry at least. Owain bought a crafting kit, a crude whetstone, some armor polish, a bedroll, and a lantern off the man and left him with runes besides for the trouble. He would make for Stormveil first seeing as it was on his way to Caria. Just the thought of that scheming rat Godrick dirtying Lord Godwyn's castle made him feel ill. Owain had no idea how such a man could be descended from so noble a lord.
Trudging his way north through the Limgrave forests took him several days. Ever was he beset by rabid beasts and feral troops, he dispatched all with a growing frustration. There were so few free citizens left in the Lands Between, so few that yet remained with their minds intact. Owain understood now what Kale had meant when he'd said the world had gone mad after the shattering.
His dreams were always fitful, burdening him with memories in ragged sprints. Too many years were being crammed in too small a time and his head ached near constantly for it. His centuries of life would take more than a few moons to return in full he suspected. Each morn he was awoken by lingering dreams of Ranni, always new memories, always fresh grief, and goddess of gold did he miss his horse, dear Osgalath.
It was not until a week had passed that he finally made his way out of the dense woods to see the storm gate. Carved straight through into a mountain, it had been ancient when he was young and looked no better for a century of neglect. He would not stop trying to reason with Godrick's addled troops but he had stopped holding out hope for a coherent response on the second day. Owain made for the gate with a weary sigh.
He was of course attacked en masse by the babbling soldiers posted nearby. With his memories returned much of his skill, and these poor sods were no match for him. Only after besting a surprisingly fierce knight did Owain realize the darkening hour. He spied one of the few sites of the Erd tree's grace nearby and made for it with some enthusiasm.
Kale had explained the tarnished; Lord Godfrey's men returned from the fog. Strange that he too had been revived, though the merchant had said it was not unheard of. Death and time were out of order since the ring's destruction.
The grace of gold lay within him still and it buoyed him, he was not yet bereft of all worth. The great tree, his shining queen, they still thought him worthy, despite his horrible failure.
The mud was firm as he sank to his knees before the grace, bowing slightly before extending a hand towards it. Memories flooded his mind and he groaned in exasperation as he was pulled back to another day of eld.
"Mine sons look to thee, Owain. Even Godwyn." A massive hand clasped his shoulder. "I thank thee for being such a fine friend to them. It is rare to find peers, they doth not have the lifetime as a mere man that I doth to falleth back upon."
Owain looked up at his lord Godfrey, hopefully keeping his childish excitement off his face. "It is my honor and my joy to protect the royal family, my lord. I am ever grateful for the opportunity." He bowed his head as the larger man roared out a laugh.
"Thanketh thee thine father then for his years of true service, it is his words that first brought thou to me." The muscled ruler looked out over the shining capitol. "Thou art noble and stout, just as he. Pray, keep mine brood safe."
These moments with Lord Godfrey were so rare, Owain was beside himself with excitement. "Yes, my lord! I will not fail you!" He called out happily.
A strange voice snapped him from his reverie. "Greetings, traveler-" Owain was up on his feet, spear in hand in a flash. The newcomer lifted her hands, palms open in a calming manner. Some magic filled the air, it was faint but he could sense it.
"State your name and your business, stranger." After a long pause, she went to lower her hood and the spear fell from his hand. He knew that face, though much aged from what memories he had. He knew that sealed eye. Owain doffed his helm, shaking fingers placing it on the ground between them. He blinked and was no longer beside the grace.
"Her name is Melina. Finally, a daughter after four sons." She laughed. Owain watched his queen's full smile with growing relief. He had hoped the new princess would lift the Queen's malaise and it seemed she was.
He covered his armored arms with his cloak to receive the child, pillowing her head delicately in the crook of his elbow. "Like all of your line, my queen, I shall protect her with my life. You have my oath." The child's newly sealed eye wept silently, alas that his queen had to subvert such a fiery curse so soon after the princess' birth.
In a rare display of affection, Queen Marika caressed her daughter's downy curls. "My precious daughter, may my light ever seest thee safe." she murmured with aching sweetness as she pressed a lingering kiss to the child's brow.
To see his lady with such joy in her eyes made Owain almost wish to weep. He had been so worried for her of late, "Do you wish to hold her once more, my queen?" he asked, softly, wary of waking the babe.
Her golden eyes stared down at him but did not seem to see him. "Ah, no, Wain. I am- I must rest, bringest her to her nursemaid."
He swaddled the young princess more completely in his arms and bowed his head. "As you command, my lady."
The world swirled back into shape, confound these memories!
"I am Melina. I would offer you an accord." The woman edged nearer to the light of grace.
Owain sank slowly to his knees. "You would trust me to fulfill such an agreement? After I have already you failed once?"
The woman's mask of calm flickered for a moment. "Of what do you speak?" She knelt soundlessly beside the grace.
"Are your memories as fractured as mine own?" The pressure in his temples only built as she made a face that reminded him so much of her queen mother.
"Speak plainly, Tarnished."
"Yes, tarnished . What was once pure gold is now besmirched." He lost himself in the intricate moldings of his gauntlets for a long breath before finding his lady's eyes once more. "Pray, my lady. Tell me that you are hale, that my death did not break all of my oaths."
For the first time, she seemed annoyed, but Owain had yet to see the spark of recognition in her eyes. "I understand not your meaning."
"I was to be your protector, always." He whispered. "To be the bulwark that would deflect all threats to the line of gold."
A small gasp escaped her lips. "Then your armor, it was not stolen?"
"No, my lady. It is mine by right, forged of Hewg's hands and gifted unto me by your queen mother." His was unique amongst the sentinels, adorned in several marks of his station. A larger tree ornamentation tipped in rubies, a shining signet of the great ring upon the chest. The clasp of his cloak an intricate design of the red tree. The cloak itself was a vibrant red striped with shining gold mail, a stark difference from his subordinates. There was only one set of its make.
Melina's eye seared into him, alight at the mention of her mother, "You are…Wain. You were he who commanded the sentinels." a small smile curved her lips before they turn down once more.
"Yes, my lady." She grimaced, as if her own memories were beginning to barrage her as his did him.
Melina shook her head with a frown. "Do you see it, the guidance of grace?"
He looked at the ray of gold pointing him to Stormveil, he could surmise its purpose. "Yes, my lady. I see it."
"Would you seek to reunite the shards, strive to be elden lord?" A sad laugh wheezed from his throat.
Her gaze would not leave his. Such shadows lay behind it, what life had she lived while he'd been dead? "I do not wish to be lord, only to help mend this land and right my terrible failure."
She frowned at his words, looking tot he great tree of gold, "Will you journey to it, the foot of the Erd Tree?" Melina pressed forward, cloak falling around small shoulders.
"Yes, my lady. I must ensure your royal siblings are safe." Her eye slid from his to gaze forlornly as the crumbling gate town behind them.
"They are as changed as this land from whence you knew them."
This did not bode well. "Still, death has not freed me from my oaths."
"Has it not?" She wrung her hands, a nervous habit that her elder brother Godwyn shared.
He tried to muster some of his old fire. "I am Commander of the Sentinels, Highlord of the golden city's defense. These titles are mine to bear."
Melina frowned. "Not in this life, not anymore."
He sighed, perhaps she was correct. Owain thought morosely of his beloved princess. Of all the missed moments stolen by his obligations to the throne and to his many oaths as a sentinel.
He had ever chosen duty over love in the life he'd lived before; was this not a chance to amend that mistake? "What would you ask of me then, Lady Melina?"
"Take me with you to the foot of the Erd tree." Her voice was soft, gentle and suspicious.
"I must keep you safe, my lady. For what purpose would you seek out such an arduous journey?" He could hardly drag a princess of the golden lineage across the entire spine of the continent.
"My reasons are my own." Her hands tightened against her cloak, she was afraid of his refusal. Owain may not have been the man he once was, but he would hardly forsake her now that he had come to find her so near.
"Though you say my oaths died with me, I would still honor those I took to protect and serve you, my lady. I will take you with me to the foot of the great tree, though our route will be circuitous. I have many tasks that need be done."
"I am grateful for your aid then." She held out a hand. "To the accord I proposed; I would take the role of maiden and turn your runes to strength. Only rest your hand upon mine for a moment."
Turn runes to strength? Such magic was new to him, something that had been discovered after the elden ring's fracture? Or perhaps something only a tarnished could do? The hand she put forth was such a small thing, small and lined with old burns. Owain stared at it in hesitation. He took it gingerly.
"Share them with me, your aspirations, the principles that would guide you." She intoned quietly. A ritual?
Owain thought for a moment, he understood the function of a finger maiden, he suspected Melina now took the place of the young woman he'd found dead by his coffin. He would need strength for the journey ahead, endurance and vitality too. Amusingly, something in him told him he was far short of the amount of runes he would need to shift his measure even a little. He released her small hand with a low chuckle.
He shrugged out the tension in his shoulders, doing another cursory glance of the ruins around them. "It seems nothing is ever so easy. Be not afeard, little one, I hold power enough already. Please, use my bed roll. I shall find a mount for you anon, surely Godrick's stables are not entirely empty." More memories of the princess filtered past his sight, he had spent much time with this girl, raised her with supreme care. Given her distance, she must not remember their shared past as he did yet.
Melina's face looked conflicted as she once more hid her hands beneath her large cloak. "There is no need, Ser Owain." Ser? He smiled.
He leveled his eyes at her. "My lady, I'll not have you walk the distance to Leyndell. One of your station is deserving at least of a mount."
"No, you misunderstand." She brought forth a ring from the depths of her cloak. "I have no need of a mount. Only at these sites of grace can I become corporeal. I would have you take this ring, that you might call upon good Torrent. He will ferry you in physical form and me in spirit."
Corporal? She was naught but spirit? Owain's eyes narrowed, whatever could she mean? He took the ring from her carefully, the lines of her burns stirring something in his mind.
"Accept my death as recompense, my Queen." Owain begged vehemently to the silent monarch before him. He could hardly bear to look upon his glorious queen. The shame in his gut burned far too hot, there were no words he could say that would give him atonement. At least the court was not here to see his humiliation.
She did not speak for a long while, "Thine continued service is what I desirest, not thy death."
Owain looked at her with pleading eyes, could she not see he was to blame? "It is my failing! Lady Melina-"
"Was stolen when thou were't not even in the capitol, Owain! The fault for her disappearance lies not with thee but with those sentinels that let slip by these fiends; and they are already slain." Golden eyes, seemingly cold and dispassionate, looked down on him. Owain could see the way his queen's fingers trembled against the arm of her chair, saw the small wavering of her lips. She could hide her grief from many, but not from him.
His shame only grew, his eyes stung with unshed tears. "I did not train them well enough, my queen. I am not worthy of my station, my title, or my life." he asserted brokenly.
The eternal queen's lips twitched, curling in displeasure. "It is not thee who decidest thine worth. I shall hear no more of this. Thou shall serve the crown as thou always have." She turned her head, the quivering of her jaw all the more apparent. Owain was a lowly failure, unworthy of the trust his queen placed in him.
He could not let her show him his ever unearned grace! This was too great a sin, he cried out once more, voice hoarse and gaze blurred by tears, "Marika-"
Writhing mana spilled forth from the throne, "Wain!Please. Asketh me not to banish thee from mine side nor s-slay thee, I have just lost Me-" her voice broke, "Dare not force me to lose thee as well, mine compass. I cannot hear it, thy-thy place is at my side."
He was a wretched villain, to cause his queen such grief. He rose, walking slowly forward to kneel once more at the foot of her throne. His lady's trembling hand reached forward and he took it up with careful reverence, laying her knuckles to his brow, "Forgive me, my lady. I should not have spoken so. I will remain beside you, as is my honor and my duty." He pressed a kiss to his goddess' hand, though he was unworthy of such a thing, "My sentinels shall seek the princess with unrelenting resolve, that the line of gold be restored."
His queen would not look at him, only nodding into the distance. Her slender hand came to rest atop his head and he despised that it shook so vehemently. "Go." she choked out. He rose with a solemn salute.
The shadowed from of Lord Maliketh came forth to usher him down the stairs of the throne pavilion. It was not until they were well beyond the ears of the queen that the half-wolven spoke. "Beareth not this shame, Owain. A score of the palace sentinels lay dead, all in defense of their lady. This secret foe was simply beyond them. Even I did not render aid in time."
Dark eyes bore into him. "Thou'rt noble and just, but still only a man. Proveth thineself in thine search for her if thou must, but the palace," At this, he turned his shaggy head to regard the platform behind them, where the queen surely still sat grieving, "needst thee at full strength."
Owain would not let the Lady Melina suffer overlong, he would find the villains that stole her away from the palace. "As you will it, my lord." He nodded, scowl forming.
How long had he been out of sorts this time? He held back a sob at the potency of the memory, breathing through the tightness in his throat. The lady Melina looked upon him perplexed. "You were stolen from the palace. The fault lay with me."
Her fine brows pinched. "The blame is not yours."
"Who then?"
"Please, Ser Owain. Speak not of my past, let my old life lie for now. Know only that I am bodiless but not without my will." Ah, then she did not remember. A pity.
He took a deep breath. "Yes, my lady."