Chapter Text
A mountain of charred corpses lined the withered and cracked walls of the once bustling city… His city now reduced to nothing but a pile of ruins. All corridors leading to a central hall… His hall, with a giant, intricately carved throne… His throne, sitting at one end with a wide view of the central chamber. Melted bodies of people were strewn about… His people. Their hands raised towards the throne as if asking for help from their liege… From him. He had failed to protect them; just like he had failed her…
Perhaps their doubts were correct after all.
*Drip*… *Drip*…
Yhorm sat on his throne, his great machete in hand, uttering not a word. Basking in the silence which seemed everlasting, interrupted only by the occasional soft dripping of water. Yhorm’s eyes wandered about, first towards the ceiling and then turning towards the floor which had been covered by a thick layer of dark, murky water. Finally, they laid upon the distorted corpse closest to his throne. The poor soul clutching what used to be his greatest gift to his subjects… A Stormruler.
A sword, imbued with the power of storms. The only weapon capable of bringing a giant to its knees… A giant like him. One of a pair that he used to carry. The other he had given to his most trusted friend, along with a promise that should he ever run from his duty, he should be the one to cut him down. And what was he doing now? Sitting here, instead of on his throne as a Lord of Cinder, ready to sacrifice his life to keep the Age of Fire going as he had the first time. In hindsight, it was foolish of him to think that he was special, that somehow his sacrifice would be different from the sacrifices of his forbearers and put an end to the cycle. Why would he go and throw away the second chance at life that he had been so graciously given if the end result would be the same? The Age of Fire wasn’t something to die over… again, and preserving it wasn’t his responsibility.
Liar…
But deep down, he knew that he was just a coward. How long had he spent on that throne? He knew the answer not himself, for it had seemed like an eternity, as if time itself had stopped flowing. Yet, he still sat there without any aim or purpose, as if just sitting there would make his regrets fade away. Yhorm’s face contorted into a frown.
Shaking the negative thoughts away, Yhorm closed his eyes, the blissful call to sleep tugging at his conscious. And for once, Yhorm gave in, allowing his mind to wander his memories seeking comfort. Upon opening his eyes again, Yhorm was still in the throne room, but something was different. This wasn’t the run down throne room of the present, not even moderately close. Fresh silk banners were lining the walls, the ceiling didn’t have any cracks and most importantly, the floor was finally dry for once. A knock on the throne room door halted his internal musings and his eyes shot up, just in time to see Siegward waltzing in through the door.
Almost panting, Siegward with all the curtness he could muster gave Yhorm a slight bow and dropped like a rag next to the closest pillar he could find.
“M’lord you ought to…*huff* reduce the number of stairs …*huff* leading to the throne room…*Huff* for I fear I may no longer be able to climb them to enjoy your company.”
Ahh, that was Siegward all right… Saying the most mundane of things with a certain amount of elegance to them was so like him, but this particular interaction he did not remember. Nonetheless, the sight of his old friend even in a dream, made a smile tug at his face as the fond memories flooded his mind. Realizing that the silence was beginning to hang in the air, Yhorm replied to his friend’s complaints.
“Please Siegward, I have told you to forget the honorifics when talking with me. We are good friends not a servant and his liege.”
“Oh well thank goodness, At this point even talking is making me tired, give me a few minutes to rest up, won’t you?”
“Take as many as you like friend, and well, maybe if you finally decided to wear a practical set of armor instead of that oversized onion suit, you wouldn’t get tired so easily.”
“ Wha- How dare you!”
The tired knight sprang up, as if all of his fatigue had instantly vanished, and holding his hand up to his chest proudly declared, “This is no mere onion suit. This is my pride and a symbol that I, Siegward, am a proud knight of Catarina!”
“If you don’t have the money, I can ask the royal blacksmith to make a full armor set for you. Free of cost!” Yhorm quipped, a rather smug smile plastered across his face.
“That’s not the point! Again with this insolence, even if you are a friend, I Siegward, shall not tolerate such disrespect to my homeland!”
Siegward continued to ramble on and Yhorm silently listened, just glad to hear his friend’s voice again. He closed his eyes and recalled all of the fond memories before he linked the flame, perhaps his greatest folly in life. His friend’s voice steadily reducing to just a whisper in the background, Yhorm wholeheartedly wished for this to be the reality, but even in this state of desperation he knew that this was nothing but a dream… And as such, he would make the most of it.
“hey! HEY! YHORM!”
The avid calling of his friend dragged Yhorm out of his mind. Siegward was now standing before him, his Stormruler pointed towards the giant.
“Now that I have your attention, I can finally get to why I came here. I Siegward, having defeated the stairs in front of the throne room, now challenge you to a duel.”
“Oh! So you want to spar?”
“Wha-Yes… Yes, I want to spar… Would’ve preferred a duel, but a spar will also do.” The onion knight declared the latter half of his sentence accompanied by a pout.
Yhorm let out a hearty laugh. It had been so long since he had laughed like that. Standing up from his throne, Yhorm lowered himself to be on eye level with his friend.
“A duel it is, but don’t think I will go easy on you, just because you are a friend.”
“Great! I wasn’t counting on you to anyway.”
Yhorm unsheathed his machete and while trying to take his usual stance noticed the lack of a left notch. Oh, this must be before that… No matter, paying it no mind, Yhorm looked around trying to find his shield and upon finding it resting against his throne, he picked it up, equipping it in his left hand. Taking his old stance, Yhorm found it feeling familiar and yet, unfamiliar at the same time. It had been quite some time since he had fought like this. And for his part, Siegward had also readied himself, charging up his Stormruler. Yhorm smiled, it was moments like these that made him feel truly at ease.
“Ready Siegward?”
“Born ready.”
Neither moved for a few seconds, sizing each other up, when suddenly Yhorm wound up a swing of his machete and Siegward raised his Storm ruler high, but as soon as Yhorm was about to attack and Siegward bring his Stormruler down with roaring power, someone burst through the throne room doors.
“Stop you two! You’re going to destroy the capitol!”
It was her… It was Eleonora. The one he had sworn to protect and the one that he couldn’t protect when he most needed to. He had never thought that he would ever see her again, yet here she was standing before him, with all her immaculate beauty. Her mulberry hair softly shining in the sunlight of the early morning hours and her fair skin color complementing her creamy white dress. Oh, how cruel dreams were, to show you what you most desired but couldn’t have or to show you a future, you know to be impossible. Yhorm’s heart broke into tiny pieces, the grief almost showing on his face, he no longer wanted to remain in this dream. He wanted to scream and weep and yet, laugh all together. He didn’t know what to feel, whether to be sad at his loss or happy to see her again, either choice felt wrong and disingenuous to the other. Perhaps he could show a mixture of the two or show nothing at all, but in the end all he could do was gawk, as the oracle priestess walked towards them.
“Honestly! You two are more trouble than you are worth. M’lord this is no way for a king to act, you are supposed to set an example for your subjects. What would they make of this? That our liege is a blood hungry beast?”
Oh, the irony in those words…
He didn’t tell Eleonora that though, instead simply lowering his head and declaring, “I understand…”
Siegward slowly slid to the side, even he knew that it was best to stay quiet and pass the storm when Eleonora was angry like this, but the poor knight’s efforts were for naught, as the oracle priestess snapped her head around to directly face the Onion knight trying to slither away.
“And you! Where do you think you are going?!”
The Onion knight stopped dead in his tracks and prepared for what was to come. Siegward braced for the impact as Eleonora stomped towards him flipping of his helmet and grabbing him by the ear like a little child.
“How many times have I told you not to sneak into the throne room without my permission?”
“Many times ma’am.”
“And how many times have you listened?”
“Not once ma’am.”
“Exactly! Now don’t think you will get away without any penalties this time.” Eleonora declared, practically dragging the poor knight out of the throne room, with Siegward practically pleading with Yhorm to help him.
“Yhorm! Please! Hel-Ow! Please help me! AHHHH-”
The door of the throne room closed with a heavy thud as Yhorm slightly chuckled.
“Oh Siegward, my dear friend, your sacrifice will never be forgotten. You will live on in my memories forever.”
Only when the pair had left did Yhorm realize the dreamspace melting into one around him…
Already huh…
He would’ve preferred some more time if for nothing than to simply feel the utter bliss of dry feet for a bit longer, but he supposed it really wasn’t up to him to decide. Taking a good final look around Yhorm closed his eyes…
Upon opening them again, the giant was back in the present, only that this time he was much more at ease. A warm feeling nestled its way into Yhorm’s heart and a smile appeared on his face, as for the first time in what felt like forever, Yhorm broke the silence in his now decrepit throne room and spoke, “He will come. I know he will. A knight always keeps his promises and I will be ready to give him the duel that he had so wanted.”
Yhorm’s voice reverberated throughout the empty hall, holding every ounce of power that it used to during his youth, straining his long unused vocal cords. Gosh! He could really use a siegbräu right about now. Perhaps he would ask Siegward to make him one when he came to make sure that he fulfilled his duty. Yhorm smiled again. He would come… That much he was sure of…
“Come, Siegward! Let us enjoy this final dance of fate!”
Yhorm’s words hung in the air, met only with silence… or so he thought. Lowering his head, Yhorm felt stupid, to think that just calling Siegward’s name would make him appear out of thin air. He scoffed mockingly… as if that was possible. However, deep down he knew Siegward would come.
*Clink*…*Clank*
The familiar sounds of metal plates sliding against each other made Yhorm Look up, just in time to see a knight clad in iron approaching him, but that wasn’t what interested Yhorm; it was the ever familiar onion shaped helmet peeking out from the knight’s shoulder that truly caught his attention. His heart raced at just the possibility. Could it be… No, it must be…
The smile on Yhorm’s face grew wider and wider as the knight came into full view but what made all of his doubts disappear was when the Onion knight overtook his companion and held out the very same Stormruler that he had given his friend in a challenging manner just like Siegward used to do. Yhorm’s heart burst with joy and the smile on his face had turned into a grin but what proved to be the final nail in his coffin of happiness was when the Onion knight finally spoke.
“Yhorm… Old friend… I, Siegward of the knights of Catarina, have come to uphold my promise.”
Of course… Of course, you have, my dear friend… I expected nothing less.
Yhorm stood up from his throne, tightly clutching his great machete, every inch of his body protesting at the movement, but he couldn’t back down now, he knew full well that his friend wouldn’t have either if he was in his position. Yhorm steeled his resolve and Siegward readied himself.
“Let the sun shine upon this Lord of Cinder! HEYAAH!”
Yhorm rushed towards Siegward, who having charged his Storm ruler brought it down with the power of storms behind it cutting through the air and connecting with his left shoulder, Yhorm faltered and was brought down to one knee and at the same time, the other knight swiftly slid directly beneath Yhorm and channeling the power of flames released a great chaos fireball... A foolish decision.
“Be careful, he’s immune to fire!”
Siegward tried to warn the young knight but it was too late, Yhorm picked up his great machete and with both hands brought it down with enough force to split the floor in half, the young knight barely managing to get away. Immediately switching to one hand Yhorm swung his machete in a wide arc, catching the young knight off balance and sending him flying into one of the pillars.
One down…
Yhorm then turned his attention towards Siegward, gathering his energy and jumping towards him.
“Come at me, you buffoon!”
Siegward rolled out of the way of the impact, barely avoiding Yhorm’s fist, the appendage being implanted into the ground where Siegward would’ve been. Siegward charged his Stormruler, bringing it crashing down on Yhorm, the giant barely avoiding the wave. Yhorm jumped away from the knight and after steadying himself attacked Siegward with an overhead swing which the knight easily side-stepped.
Meanwhile, the young knight was laying limp against the pillar he was smashed into. His breastplate horribly bent and blood all over. Taking some time to regain his senses, the young knight opened a glowing flask and took a few gulps, his bones instantly cracking back into place upon imbibing the bottle’s contents. With the corner of his eye, the young knight spotted a corpse clutching what to him looked like the sword that Siegward was using. In his state of desperation and out of options the knight hobbled over to the sword freeing it from the corpse which had been clutching it. Taking a deep breath the knight assumed the same stance as Siegward and started charging the sword…
Yhorm swung his machete in a wide arc and Siegward ducked under it which Yhorm then followed by swinging his left hand, catching Siegward off guard and smashing him into a wall. The force of the impact knocked the air out of Siegward’s lungs and made him cough up blood. Hurting his friend brought Yhorm no satisfaction but if his friend was to fail so close to his goal then maybe that was his fate.
No, you’re wrong! ... He won’t give up!
Slowly Yhorm approached Siegward, preparing to deal the final blow. Standing in front of his friend Yhorm raised his machete ready to bring it down and at the apex of his swing Yhorm… faltered.
Get up!… Get up!… Is this really how you’re going to let your tale end?… So close to your goal?… Please prove me wrong! Get up!… Fight yourself and cut me down! Do it Siegward I know you can!
Silence…
Show me something… anything…
But what he saw was nothing. With great remorse Yhorm brought down his machete on his most trusted friend, yet perhaps in another twist of fate, just before the swing could connect, an exceptionally strong storm wave seared through his flesh, bringing Yhorm for the second time of the day on his knees, almost on the same level where a battered Siegward stood charging his Storm ruler.
“I know I am no match for you dear friend, which is why I did not come alone. This ends here.”
Before Yhorm could regain his posture, Siegward brought down his Storm ruler, unleashing a storm wave at point blank range, knocking the giant back. Yhorm roared with pain, his machete being the only thing holding him up from crumpling on the floor. Everything went numb and his vision blurred, and in this state of desperation, the profaned flame, the destroyer of his home finally called upon him, urging him to use it and fight for his survival. And despite his better judgment, Yhorm gave in.
As if snapping back to reality, Yhorm regained full control over his senses, seeing and hearing more clearly than ever before. His body lit itself on flames, yet he didn’t burn, smashing his machete into the ground Yhorm released an outburst of fire, as if signaling the birth of a new god. Seeing Yhorm control the flames as if they were a part of him his friend couldn’t help but smile.
“Yhorm, old friend, you continue to find new ways to surprise this old knight but this… This I had known would happen sooner or later. And now the gap between us continues to widen. Well, I better catch up.”
The jolly look on Siegward’s face disappeared and a steeled resolve settled in its place. The young knight charged another storm wave which crashed into Yhorm’s left shoulder, making his left arm all but useless. Yhorm rushed at the knight and started wildly swinging his machete. The young knight ducked under the first, rolled towards the side of the second and was about to be cut down by the third, when another storm wave, this time from Siegward crashed into Yhorm, slicing straight through flesh and bone.
“I’m here too, y’know.”
The power of the flame began to wane and Yhorm with all of his remaining strength swung his machete for the final time at Siegward, who prepared himself with a wide smile on his face. As soon as the machete was about to make contact, Siegward cast his final and strongest miracle.
“The wrath of Gods!!”
The machete was completely repelled and flew out of Yhorm’s hands and into a nearby wall. The power of the flame dissipated and Yhorm now keenly aware of the extent of the damage to his body collapsed onto the floor, his face facing upwards towards the ceiling, and blood covering every inch of his body, a streak of tears began to roll down Yhorm’s face. He just felt so… proud.
Exhausted from the battle Siegward also sat down next to Yhorm followed by the young knight and upon seeing Yhorm’s tears Siegward began to laugh, perplexing Yhorm greatly.
“My dear friend, losing one spar of a thousand is no reason to cry.”
Even now, that oaf had no tact… It was almost comforting… A smile tugged at Yhorm’s face and he allowed it to be seen.
“Come now, I know you are in there, talk to me… I want to hear your voice one last time.”
What Siegward heard was not the voice of a lord but rather the voice of a broken man seeking comfort.
“Thank..you… Tha-nk..you so… very much… Old friend.”
Broken, distorted and weak, there was not a single ounce of the brutish strength that defined his friend in his voice anymore.
“Of course… It was my promise, a promise I would’ve kept even if it cost me my life.”
“Of co-course, I know you… wou-would. I only wish… that I coul..d’ve done more.”
“Believe me friend; you have done more than enough. Now, rest… You deserve it.”
“Goo-d…bye… friend.”
“Good bye Yhorm. Long may the sun shine. Hahahahahaha!”
Siegward laughed on the outside and wept on the inside, Yhorm was no friend, he was closer to family. Siegward saw Yhorm close his eyes for the last time and soon after also breathe his last breath and all he could do was laugh as streaks of tears rolled down his face under his helmet, under this wall that he had so carefully built. The young Knight was also there not speaking a word, giving Siegward the space he needed and honestly, Yhorm respected him for that.
Eventually everything around Yhorm faded to black and his body was transported into an infinite void, where it laid floating. How long Yhorm spent there? He didn’t know, but one thing was certain, that something called him one… day? If you could call it that and that it kept getting louder and louder, until one day Yhorm finally heard what it said…
“Arise now, ye Tarnished”
“The call of long lost grace speaks to us all”
*****