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“This tree is- how do you say it- magnificent…
It’s the Maiden of the Depths - the human bride of the god that formed these dungeons.
The two could never truly be together, being a mere human being and an older god.
But desperately the maiden still tries to link the human world with the world of the gods to this day.”
“Is this story real? Sounds…strangely romantic.”
“Haha, no. It’s just an old folks take.”
“Aahhh… That’s a shame…”
“Maybe there’s a seed of truth in it…?”
-
In these dungeons, you can never tell whenever it’s day or night.
Time seems to stop completely, you can’t help but ask yourself if it has been hours, days, weeks or months… Or years.
Everything is surrounded by the darkness the more and more you descend deeper into the levels.
Still, rest plays an essential role in this cycle. It keeps your mind stable and your body strong enough for the unknown challenges that you’re about to face.
The problem surfaces when you’re now supposed to rest, in the same room of the woman who has made herself your enemy.
But how could Ragnvaldr blame her, after all? He had just killed the love of her life, right in front of her wide open eyes and shocked expression.
Then, time might have stopped completely.
-
“You feel it?
…That’s how it feels to lose a loved one-“
“You are a fucking monster!”
Ragnvaldr has never seen D’Arce look this furious before.
-
D’arce was sitting in the corner of the room where they were supposed to sleep, they had found a safe place where to rest inside of Ma’habre’s catacombs. Her chin was resting on her knees as she was hugging her legs to her chest. Her wounded arm was exposed to the air.
Her gaze was lost into the void before her, as a soft fire heated and lighted up the small space between them, in those four walls.
Locking them both in the same room was Cahara’s idea, so that they could “Talk it out” And return to explore the old city in a few hours, as if nothing never happened.
As if Ragnvaldr didn’t just take his revenge, the very reason why he came here in the first place.
Beating to the ground the man who had turned his life into a living hell by killing his wife and son, massacring the people of his village he grew up with… People who didn’t belong to the ground yet.
Enki, back then, totally disagreed with Cahara, knowing how unstable D’arce was in this very moment. Sooner or later they’d end up fighting again, only to find them both dead by the end of the “night”.
Ragnvaldr was in fact concerned, as he sat down at the corner of the opposite side of the woman, about why wasn’t she trying to kill him yet.
She doesn’t react, she remains as still as a statue. Not even her eyes dared to shift slightly. She doesn’t even blink, Ragnvaldr could barely listen her breathing.
Ragnvaldr could feel his ears ringing loudly, every inch and muscle of his body was ready to fight back in the chance of D’Arce assaulting him by any second.
He didn’t want to kill her, that’s for sure. They still had a journey together behind their backs.
He knew that against her, he could easily win. His size was twice as hers and just their looks were enough to tell who was stronger.
He had just broke a man’s skull with a few punches, after all.
Still, he didn’t dare to underestimate her… D’Arce was still a well trained knight, if not even the best, after Le’garde, now ex captain of the Knights of the Midnight Sun.
Ragnvaldr didn’t know if it was better to say something or to not say anything at all, but the night had to pass somehow.
“…How’s your arm doing?” He asks, after what it felt like a lifetime of silence.
D’Arce shifts her head slightly to look at him, her eyes red from crying and a furrowed brow.
“…Good, I guess.” She murmurs, it was clear that she had no intention of doing small talks.
Ragnvaldr sighs as he looks down at the fire.
“Look… What I did has nothing to do with you”
“It didn’t… But it does now.” She spits back, venomous words were about to roll over her tongue.
“He met his fate, he deserved to-“
“Killing him hasn’t turned you any different. You’re as worse as the creatures down here.”
Ragnvaldr scoffs. Rage was making his face itch. But as he said before, nothing of this was D’Arce’s fault. She was just grieving.
He remembers the hate he felt back in the day.
“Unforgivable….
Unforgivable.”
“…”
Ragnvaldr stays silent, he couldn’t complain back.
D’Arce shocks her head and looks down, retiring her arms to her chest.
“…I tried to stop Le’garde from attacking your village.” She says, Ragnvaldr could sense the hint of regret in her voice.
He looks up to her, the sudden confession awakened his curiosity.
“But he was just… Too stubborn, so sure of himself… He kept saying that there was something that belonged to him….”
She sighs, trying to ignore the knot that had formed into her throat.
“…He desperately demanded a bigger power. Being at the same level of a king wasn’t enough. I was starting to suspect that he was the one of the prophecies.”
She bites her lip, the taste of blood slipping on her tongue.
“…I think he wanted to become some sort of God.” Her voice breaks as she looks at Ragnvaldr.
-
“They believe you’re the one from the prophecies.”
“Hm. Those ancient texts are but child’s word play…
Of course that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t use them to my advantage.”
“…But really, many things are scarily accurate in the prophecy.
It talks about ‘the fair haired’ man and ‘the one who rivals gods in both power and beauty’…”
“Hah! I thought all the older gods were ugly as hell.
Don’t tell me you buy that stuff too?”
“Nilvan of the new gods is supposed to be beautiful. Just as the tormented one used to be…
The texts also speak ‘He, who unites the warring states, not by the power of the golden stuff, but by the power of dozen pitchforks’.”
“Well all the kings hate me at this point, so that one line I can agree with…
I will strive to unify these lands, but in the prophecies or not… No matter the cost.”
-
“Le’garde… I need to ask what this campaign in the north is all about?
I don’t quite understand the importance of expanding our reign all the way over there…
Frankly… I’m afraid such campaign could have negative impact on your reputation.”
“Thanks for your honest words D’arce…
However, my mind is set.
The campaign in the north is vital to my plans. They have something that belongs to me.”
“Something that belongs to you? What are you talking about?”
“I have to reach greater heights. This is the only way.”
“…”
-
“He was… different, when I first met him.”
D’arce says, taking a deep breath.
“He saved me from a fatal fate… I have been trained for this my whole life, and when I left the Knights of Rondon… I didn’t know where to go.”
Ragnvaldr stares at her as she talks, now he understood why she had fell in love with Le’garde in the first place.
She wanted to save him just like he did with her.
“He gave me a reason to keep going, and he saved me…” A nervous laugh escapes from her lips.
“As if I was some kind of damsel in distress… What am I doing wrong?”
She asks, but the question was not meant for Ragnvaldr to answer. It seemed to be turned to herself.
“I’ve given my all to rise above such petty roles, but every time the fate mocks me yet again…” She confesses, taking it out right before Ragnvaldr.
“I’ve tried… to stick to my benefits and high morals through all this nightmare… but what for?!”
Her voice was so full of agony and repentance, discomfort and anger were running high through her veins. She looked like she was about to implode by any second now.
“…Nothing matters to me but survival. I’ll play the game with its rules.”
Ragnvaldr takes a deep breath, his gaze pinned on her expression as he elaborated all of those emotions.
“…So you’re wiling to continue?”
He asks, his fingers fidgeting with his chains as he kept staring at her.
“Of course I am… I want to reach the end.” She answers, looking back at him.
“…I’m sorry about your village” D’arce says, after a few seconds of silence.
“It’s not your fault.” Ragnvaldr says, his tone firm and low, as he tries not to think about what he had to experience.
After that, they both feel silent. The air was so thin, they could cut it with a knife.
But before going to sleep, Ragnvaldr had to ask one last question.
“…Why did you refrain yourself from trying to kill me? You once wanted to slit my throat.”
He asks, a wondering expression falling on his face.
D’Arce looks at him, a soft frown appearing on her face.
“…The girl.” She says, immediately looking away from him.
“She has already seen you killing a man with your bare hands… I just couldn’t do that to her.”
“Oh…” Reality hits him in one sentence.
D’arce had a heart made out of gold. The little girl was everything that mattered to them, they were doing this for her. So that they could save her from the horrors of these dungeons.
“Tch…” Ragnvaldr scoffs, shifting in his seat.
“That girl was conceived here… She has been seeing all of this since she was born… There’s no use into having discretion and stopping yourself from your natural instincts… It’s just useless.” He says, nonchalantly, looking away.
“Natural instincts…?” D’arce repeats, almost shocked, as she looks at him in denial.
“You’re just as barbaric as I thought…” She scoffs, disgusted, before making her way to what was supposed to be her bed for the night.
“I know for sure that the little girl is used to this kind of violence… but that doesn’t mean that we have to make it worse.” D’arce murmurs, as if she was just talking to herself, before laying down.
Ragnvaldr follows her movements with his eyes and waits for a while, trying to process the conversation they just had. He then gets up and goes off to sleep as well, considering the talk over, as well for the night.
-
Ragnvaldr wakes up all of a sudden, an huffing sound was filling his ears as well for the little space in those four walls. The fire was still burning.
As he tries is best to snap out of his unfocused state caused by his deep sleep, he looks around to search for the origin of those sounds.
That’s when he noticed with the corner of his eye, D’arce body shifting consistently in her bed.
He get up quickly and got closer to her, trying his best not to wake her up as he analyses the situation.
But that’s when he notices that she wasn’t wearing her armour anymore, but still had a vest on that was supposed to be underneath it.
He kneels down slowly next to her, noticing an uncomfortable expression on her face.
She was holding her arm to her stomach, her nails gripping hard into her flesh.
Ragnvaldr couldn’t just sit there and watch.
With an arm around her shoulders and the other one behind her knees, Ragnvaldr gently moved her body onto his lap.
D’arce’s palm, that was once around her arm, was now resting on his chest, as she weakly tried to push him off unconsciously.
“It’s okay…” Ragnvaldr whispers to her, a worrisome expression on his face.
He noticed how hot her body was to his touch, and how her cheeks were so red that they could be compared tho the flames colour.
He couldn’t waste anymore time, he had to figure out what was happening to her.
He gently shifted her arms away from her belly, and that’s where he noticed how much blood was pouring out from her wounded arm.
He quickly takes off all the bandages, only to find out that the wound has been infected.
The reason why she got so hot must be the fever caused by the infection.
D’arce opened her eyes just so slightly, her mind was still blank and not able to reasonate at all.
“Everything is going to be okay… Just let me handle this” Ragnvaldr whispers softly to reassure her, again, as he uses some green herbs that he had found before to heal her infected arm.
D’arce’s expression twisted in pain, her hand clinging onto his forearm as her nails dig into his skin leaving red scratches.
“Shhh…” He whispers lowering his head, his forehead meeting D’arce’s.
Soft moans of pain escape from her lips, she felt so ashamed that she couldn’t control it, but she had no strength to fight with.
She closes her eyes as she tries her best to regulate her breath.
After a few minutes that felt like hours, D’arce was finally able to calm down. Soft huffs came out from her lips as she fell asleep in Ragnvaldr’arms, who refused to let go of her not even for a second.
With his fingers, he moved a few locks of red hair out of her forehead. Some of it was still stuck to her pale skin because of the sweating.
He admired her face and was so thankful that she wasn’t awake.
Now he understood why Cahara has chosen “Dollface” as a nickname for D’arce.
He couldn’t believe how a man ever dared to manipulate and break such a sweet heart as hers.
If he could, he’d kill Le’garde once again just for that.
“…You’re strong, Cataliss” He whispers, even if he knew that she couldn’t hear him. “You’re not just any damsel in distress…” He then sighs.
He’d stay like that for the whole night if that was necessary.
-
The God of Fear and Hunger stood before them.
It was unbelievable what the little girl turned out to be.
Ragnvaldr lets his sword fall from his hand.
D’Arce’s body was resting to his feet.
Unmoving.
Her cold, lifeless eyes were gazing at him.
He’d never forgive himself for not leaving sooner, with everyone still alive.
After all, their mission was complete: find Le’garde.
Now they had unconscionably took part into the creation of a new god, as strong as the old ones.
It was inevitable.
He never left the dungeons.