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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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"Everyone's...been grafted. Everyone who came with me. They crossed the sea for me. They fought, for me. Heh... Only to have their arms taken. Their legs taken. Even their heads...taken. Taken and stuck to the spider.
Did you know? If you're grafted by the spider, you become a chrysalid. It's quite the lark, when you think about it."
Roderika the Spirit Tuner
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Lands Between, Limgrave
Aerion
Before he knew it, he found himself back at Oridys's Rise, where he had bid farewell to Edgar and Irina over twenty days earlier. As he had feared, he had been transported back by the Greater Will at the worst possible moment.
No, there were many worse times when he could have been taken, such as during the battle or just before the whole situation with the Frenzy Flame, which would have left all his allies to the flames of chaos.
Though the situation was bleak, especially since he didn't know when he would be sent back to Winterfell by the capricious god, he could at least count on Stannis and Wyman to take control of the situation.
He had slight doubts about Stannis's loyalty, of course, but he quickly dispelled them. Baratheon had sworn fealty to him, and he wasn't stupid, either. He would have known what would happen upon Aerion's return.
Realizing that no matter how much he thought about it, nothing would change in his home world, he decided to focus entirely on the Lands Between, where he had much to do.
It was all too much, so much so that he couldn't decide what to do next. He had initially planned to explore the rest of the Weeping Peninsula, acquire more runes, and grow stronger. However, he hadn't expected his stay in Westeros to be so long that he would be able to complete one of his quests.
He was significantly stronger at this point than when he left the Lands Between. Moreover, he felt that his new incantations, which had proven their strength in the fight against the Amalgamation of Frenzy, gave him an edge against most opponents. At least those who weren't Ancient Dragons, for he couldn't be sure they would work against them.
"Perhaps the time has come to slay my first demigod and free Limgrave from the tyranny of Godrick the Grafted?" he said thoughtfully, then his gaze fell on the massive tower behind him, which, after a brief search, proved empty.
He saw no signs of a fight; the interior was tidy, and the amount of dust indicated that no one had been there for at least several days.
Apparently, Edgar had decided to leave, but for what reason and where they had gone, he could only guess. It was difficult to find a safe place in these lands. Villages had been destroyed in numerous clashes or plundered by bandits.
Large strongholds, however, were in Godrick's hands, such as Castle Mourne, but their inhabitants were either conscripted into army service, forced into slavery, or faced a far worse fate. Most, however, returned to Erdtree, or rather, their souls, awaiting rebirth and another miserable life in this cursed world.
The few individuals he encountered seemed to be the least insane, struggling day after day to maintain their consciousness, while most had either given up or lost their minds entirely.
Such as the thousands of wandering, barely alive people, resembling mummified corpses, that filled the hills south and east of Agheel Lake.
Edgar said that in the eastern continent of Caelid, which Malenia had transformed into a living hell during the battle with Radahn, several thousand Redmayne Soldiers and Knights were supposedly struggling to combat the spreading Scarlet Rot.
The same was true of Leyndell, the capital, which was still defended by over ten thousand loyal soldiers under the command of one of the demigods, Morgott the Grace Given, the last of all kings.
This meant that there were still people fighting for the future of these lands. Sometimes deceived or manipulated, yet strong-willed and willing to sacrifice.
Looking at Erdtree, looming on the horizon and glowing with a golden light, he said to himself, "Seeing these ruined lands and their broken people, how could he not help but feel even a tinge of sympathy? The same could happen to his own world.
He had previously resolved to unite Elden Ring, mainly hoping that in this way he would find a way to free himself from the control Greater Will had over his life.
Now, however, he understood that his uncle, the only father he had ever known, would not be proud of such an answer. On the contrary, he would say that since he had the opportunity to change something, turning his back on these people and leaving them to their own devices would be not only dishonorable but cowardly.
Yes, Aerion knew that Eddard Stark had a strong influence on him, and he himself resembled the Lord of Winterfell more than his 'siblings' in personality.
And indeed, if he had the opportunity, he should try to do something about it. Offer a place for those who hadn't yet given up. A haven where they wouldn't have to worry about their lives.
"Well, it seems I've made my decision," he muttered to himself, a small smile playing on his lips, feeling a growing sense of purpose within him. Something greater than a desire dictated by self-interest but something meaningful.
He closed his eyes, reaching north with his mind, tracing the thread of Grace running from a specific Site of Grace. He felt a tug, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself standing before a massive stone gate built into the cliff face.
Before him stretched mighty hills, stretching dozens of miles from the sea into the continent. They immediately reminded him of the Wall, for it seemed the gate he stood before was the only way to reach the Stormhills.
Behind them, Godrick's numerous forces were likely waiting for him, which he could easily avoid on Torrent's back. However, this didn't fit with his plans. To carry them out, he needed to clear Stormhills, and especially Stormveil Castle, of every enemy.
He set off on foot through the gate arch, but to his surprise, the road leading to the hills was deserted, blocked by barricades here and there. However, there was no sign of Godrick's soldiers.
Finally, the path led him to a small wooden hut, which he likely would have missed if not for the golden glow of the dormant Site of Grace and the faint sound of a woman's cry.
He first headed for the Site of Grace, activating it, and then began cautiously approaching the hut itself, maintaining his vigilance. If these lands had taught him anything, it was that appearances could be deceiving. The sound of crying could just as easily have been some monster's hunting method to lure its prey.
As it turned out, however, in this case, he needn't have been careful. In the hut, he found only a woman crying softly, whispering to herself between sobs.
"Everyone's...been grafted. Everyone who came with me. They crossed the sea for me. They fought, for me. Heh... Only to have their arms taken. Their legs taken. Even their heads...taken. Taken and stuck to the spider."
At that moment, however, she noticed him. Her tear-filled green eyes fixed on him, but instead of words of greeting or caution, she said, "Did you know? If you're grafted by the spider, you become a chrysalid. It's quite the lark when you think about it."
Aerion opened his mouth, then closed it, not even knowing how to respond. Perhaps it was too late for the woman, and she had already gone mad. He looked at her more closely.
The gray and white ornate dress, the leggings, and especially the scarlet hooded cloak suggested he was dealing with someone wealthy, as the garment seemed remarkably well-made.
Moreover, although her face bore the marks of travel, it was clear she wasn't someone who spent much time outdoors. Her short, shoulder-length golden hair was also neatly trimmed, though it had likely grown a bit from its original length.
The young woman, apparently oblivious to his silence, continued, though her sobs had stopped.
"You're all on your own, are you? And heading to Stormveil Castle? Enticed by the one in the white mask, I suppose. Oh, you've come to be one with the spider?"
Aerion thought back to that asshole Varre; perhaps it was time to pay him a "friendly" visit. And the spider the young lady spoke of must have been a Grafted Scion, the abomination.
"Well, that makes us two peas in a pod. But I don't have your courage. It's scary, you know. Having your arms cut off. Or legs. Or your head. I want to be like everyone else, but I'm just too scared. I'm nothing but a craven," the woman continued, but her voice sounded drained of emotion.
Aerion, unable to bear it any longer, knelt beside her, smiling reassuringly. "Relax, there's nothing wrong with being afraid of these monsters. And it's not a sign of cowardice, just common sense." He tried to comfort her, but his words had little effect.
So instead, he sat down beside her, silent. A few minutes passed, then he decided to speak again, this time approaching from a different angle.
"I am Aerion, the Tarnished. And yes, I am going to Stormveil Castle, not to be Godrick's victim, but to slay him and restore order to these lands. It may not bring you any relief, but at least I will avenge your companions."
She turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes, clearly surprised. "You intend to slay Godrick? One of the demigods?" She shook her head firmly. "No, that's impossible. You will suffer the same fate as the others."
With more certainty in his voice than she felt, he replied, "A demigod? Apparently, he barely qualifies for that title. And without boasting, I'm quite strong, and I think I have a pretty good chance against that coward hiding in the castle."
She didn't respond to his words, but another silence fell between them, this time a more comfortable one. After a moment, she extended her hand and, opening her fist, a ball of blue light appeared in her palm. He immediately sensed the spirit's presence.
"Can you take this little one along with you? The poor thing deserves someone braver than myself... And the spirits look rather fondly upon you. It'll be glad of your company, I think, the little one."
Aerion reached out his hand toward the ball of light, and upon touching it, he felt warmth flow through his body, and information appeared before his eyes.
You received Spirit Jellyfish Ashes
Spirit Jellyfish Ashes
Ashen remains in which spirits yet dwell. Use to summon a spirit jellyfish.
A floating spirit that illuminates its surroundings.
Prone to tears, the jellyfish girl searches for her distant home. Will bravely spew poison at foes on her summoner's behalf.
It seems her name is Aurelia.
Another spirit ashes. Smiling, he nodded, "Thank you. But are you sure you won't need it more? These lands are dangerous."
She, however, shook her head and said, "I'll be fine. Monsters and soldiers tend to overlook me. That's why I've survived this long. Aurelia is incredibly brave and needs an equally brave master if she's to have a chance of ever returning home."
Aerion accepted the gift with a nod, but he wasn't about to leave the woman alone. He knew, however, that he couldn't transport someone with him to another Site of Grace, as he had already tried that with Irina. The only option was to travel on Torrent's back.
Resolutely, he turned to the woman. "I know a relatively safe place, if you can call it that. Let me take you there," he suggested, thinking of the Church of Elleh, which was protected by the now active Site of Grace.
"No need, I'll take her to Roundtable Hold," a voice came from behind him. Turning, he saw Melina standing a few feet away.
She finally decided to reveal herself after so long. But he wasn't going to worry about what she did while she was away, as long as he could freely use the Runes to increase his power with her help.
He frowned, surprised by her words. "I thought you couldn't just get into Roundtable Hold? You told me so yourself."
Melina looked at him, slightly embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't lie; I just didn't tell thou the whole truth. Simply going there before thou were strong enough and hadn't made a name for thyself would be detrimental to thee."
After these words, as if gaining confidence in her words, she added, "Too many experienced and cunning people gather there who would readily manipulate thou, especially Gideon Ofnir. Each of them would want thy Great Rune for themselves... I didn't expect you to grow in power so quickly, though."
He raised an eyebrow slightly. "So, what, am I ready to go there now?" he asked, but she shook her head slightly, looking at him seriously.
"You could, but I'd advise you to defeat Godrick first. By doing so, thou will send them a clear message that thou are too dangerous for their risk to be worthwhile."
He pondered for a moment. "From what you say, Roundtable Hold doesn't seem any safer than the rest of these lands. Are you sure nothing will happen to her?"
"No, as long as she doesn't leave Roundtable Hold, she'll be safe. By the will of the Greater Will, any violence there is not only forbidden but impossible. I'll also transfer her to Hewg. The old blacksmith will keep an eye on her," Melina replied, calming him down a bit.
Aerion glanced at the young woman, who had been listening to their conversation from the sidelines. "So? Do you want to go with Melina? You'll be safe there, not having to worry about being grafted."
The woman didn't hesitate for long, nodding after a moment. "Yes, I will go there. However, I have one request for you, if you'll listen to me."
"I'll consider it. First, tell me what it is."
"Can you pass on a message for me if you see the little chrysalids in Stormveil Castle? Tell them I love them. And that, despite my craven heart, I'm sure I'll be joining their club soon enough. I'm finally getting the hang of this whole "pain" thing, you know."
Aerion frowned at her request, then replied, "If I find them, I'll pass on the message, but only the first part. The second part will not happen. By the time you leave Roundtable Hold again, there will be no trace of Godrick and his sick practices. This I swear to you, my lady."
The woman smiled weakly, clearly grateful. "Thank you, Lord Aerion. I would ask that you call me by my name, though. I'm Roderika, and I hope we meet again."
"Have you finished thy courting?" came Melina's clearly irritated voice from behind him. "I don't have all day."
"Jealous?" he asked, trying to tease her. He hadn't expected her cheeks to flush and her to avoid his gaze. What the hell? He was just kidding.
Still avoiding his gaze, Melina approached Roderika, lightly grabbing her arm, and then threw a final warning at him: "Beware of Margit the Fell Omen; he could prove more dangerous than Godrick."
He nodded, accepting her words, then watched as both women vanished into thin air. Then he turned toward the thicket of trees and called, "You can come out. I know you're there."
At first, nothing happened, but he was certain his senses, sharper than before, were correct. And indeed, a moment later, a heavily armored man emerged from the trees, holding a Zweihander, a great two-handed sword.
He had slightly graying black hair tied back and a short beard. His gray eyes stared at Aerion with the kind of insight he'd seen in old, experienced warriors like Qhorin or Old Mormont.
"Haven't seen you before. Name's Bernahl. Tarnished, just like you," the other introduced himself.
"Aerion. Tarnished, just like you," he replied, and he could have sworn the corner of the man's mouth twitched.
"Good to meet you. But let me ask you something. Are you here in the Lands Between to take up the fight? Does your faith in the guidance of grace hold firm, despite the collapse of the Golden Order?"
He had to admit the question had taken him by surprise, but he pondered it for a moment. What was his opinion of Grace and the Golden Order? He still felt he knew too little about the history of these lands, especially the Outer Gods.
Compared to, say, Frenzy Flame, it seemed Greater Will was a much better choice, especially since his fate was not only tied to it but also protected him from that damned flame of chaos. So for now, their paths converged, though he didn't know what the future held.
"Aye, my faith holds firm. It has brought me this far and allowed me to gain strength I could only have dreamed of before," he replied after a moment, looking directly into the man's eyes.
Bernahl studied him for a moment, as if assessing the sincerity of his answer, then said with clear approval in his voice.
"Yes, you're a Tarnished through and through. Takes me back, but that's a quality needed now more than ever. Any interest in bearing the torch, of my battle arts? All I know is the sword. Picked up a fair few tricks in my time, too. Now's the time to pass 'em on. To a good and proper Tarnished, like you."
This time, Aerion didn't have to think long about his answer, as Bernahl looked like an experienced warrior, and the fact that he had survived so long in the lands between suggested he knew his way around a sword and probably other weapons as well.
"I don't have much time, as I was planning to go to Stormveil Castle, but I think I can spare a day. I could use a strong sparring partner," he replied, accepting the offer.
"Good. It'll cost you five thousand runes," the man replied, earning an incredulous look from Aerion.
"Why are you so surprised? Runes are everything in this place. And although, unlike you, I've lost my Finger Maiden, I can still buy many things with runes," the man replied with a shrug.
Sighing inwardly, yet convinced it was still a good deal, he extended his right hand. Bernahl shook it, and five thousand runes flowed between Aerion and the Tarnished Knight.
"There's a myriad of battle arts in these lands that I've yet to discover. Mementos of all the warriors who raised their arms in battle, lost, and died. A fine tale, all told, of true chivalric romance. That's how I fell in love with the sword, and the arts of combat. It grants meaning even to falling in battle, to death itself… Now show me what you're made of, young Aerion," the man exclaimed, easily lifting his two-handed sword with one hand.
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Limgrave, Stormhill
Bernahl
The young Tarnished he encountered surprised him immensely, and although it was the presence of the Great Rune he possessed, embedded in his left eye socket, that first caught his attention, Bernahl had to admit he hadn't expected Aerion to be so strong.
He had expected an inexperienced newcomer, who, like many others, had just embarked on the path of searching for Greater Runes. However, it turned out that, though less experienced and inferior in combat skills, the young Tarnished significantly surpassed him in physical attributes.
His strength rivaled that of a troll, and his speed nearly rivaled that of the blind swordmaster from Ranah, alongside whom he had once fought in his youth.
By underestimating his opponent, he lost their first duel. Thanks to his experience and skill, combined with the Ash of War he had mastered, he won the next two. However, that was the end of his winning streak.
With each duel they fought, Aerion learned the tricks and skills Bernahl imparted to him with incredible speed, making the difference in their strength only more apparent.
It was useless to parry as the younger Tarnished's sword came crashing down on him with the force and speed of a Runebear's strike. How many Runes must this child have absorbed? Or was it the effect of his Great Rune? He didn't know, but it didn't seem normal to him.
So, seeing that further duels were ineffective, and feeling that his pride couldn't bear further humiliation, he took his temporary apprentice to hunt the trolls, who inhabited Stormhill by the dozens.
Standing on one of the knolls, he pointed at a troll about two hundred feet away who had spotted them at that very moment.
"Kill him as effectively as you can," he ordered.
Aerion looked at him with a small smirk. "As you command, Sensei."
Then he stepped forward a few steps, blocking the path of the giant already charging toward them. Instead of a weapon, a red symbol appeared in his hand, and a moment later, Aerion's right hand glowed with gold, forming a golden lightning spear.
The young Tarnished swung his sword, then hurled it with tremendous force at the troll, hitting it squarely in the chest. Whatever the case, the fight was very short. Not only did a hole open in the creature's torso, large enough for Teardrop Scarabs and his orb, but a golden bolt of lightning also fell from the sky, frying the already dead troll.
When the young man turned to him with a satisfied smile, Bernahl could only stare in disbelief. Where had this kid gotten the Dragon Cult incarnation from Leyndell? And it seemed powerful in his hand, too. He clearly wasn't making up that his Faith was strong.
For the first time in a long time, he began to consider the possibility that someone had finally appeared who would be able to put this arrogant demigod to rest and unite Elden Ring.
A thought he had practically buried after the "fall" of his friend Vyke.
Recovering from his momentary shock, he looked at Aerion firmly. "You fool. I didn't tell you to fry him with an incantation but to disable him as quickly as possible in hand-to-hand combat. That's part of the training."
Then, with a sigh, he added, "Come on, we have to find another one." With that thought, he moved forward, unable to shake the feeling that the young Tarnished was irritating him on purpose.