"My Dear Knight" - Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame X Reader NSFW Fic
The Bloodflame Kingdom of Great Exardia, a thriving nation, ruled by the Great and Just Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame, the Scarlet Queen. Her smile faded in your head as the images in your dream changed one after the other, from the Exardian Castle to the hills, to the-
Top of your tent, awakening to the sound of trumpets, your eyes adjusting a bit, and as you moved your head, a servant stood at the entrance, clad in a white robe, somewhat tattered and consumed at the ends. A decorative cloth adorned the centre of his chest, that went down to knee level, embroidered with heraldry of the Bloodflame Kingdom.
“Breakfast is ready, milord” he said, a reverent tone in his voice.
“Thank you.” You replied, nodding, “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Very well.” The servant bowed, to then walk out, as you started to stretch. “We’ll be ready to equip you with your armour upon your return” Normally, the role of dresser would be assigned to a squire and not a member of the royal staff, but your position was different from one of a normal knight. You were a Ruby Knight, part of the elite guard of none-other than Elizabeth herself, the only ones above you were your Queen and her right hand, Cecilia Immergreen, an ancient automaton who had took care of her from her infancy, now one of her closest confidant and general, her frame like the one of a porcelain doll, and yourself were an exception among exceptions. The Ruby Guard always was at the sides of the rulers of the Bloodflame Kingdom, and always composed by nobles of the Scarlet Court, which you weren’t. When you joined the army, you just were but a commoner, but your skill in combat didn’t go unnoticed for long, making you rise through the ranks, and by the time a spot opened, Elizabeth chose you. How that spot opened, though, was not as merry of a story. The Bloodflame Kingdom had been at war with forces coming from the Realm of the Dark Gods of Chaos, commandeered by Archaon, the Ever-Chosen, for around 4 years now. Your predecessor died during an ambush that unfortunately decimated your force, sacrificing himself against Archaon’s blade to let his Queen and comrades escape, 2 years ago.
But things were different now. If for the most this war felt lost, from around a year or so the Bloodflame Kingdom fought back with a new fervour, after the desperate, but successful, defence of Castle Rose Mount, just 50 kilometres from the capital, where many armies of the Everchosen were broken. Cities where reclaimed, lands purified of Chaotic Corruption, the blackened wastelands returned their beauty and life.
Now, only a few kilometres away, deep in the north of Great Exardia, stood the last Dark Fortress of the Chaos armada. If the enemy was a different one, sieging it would have been the best choice, but that would have just given them time to corrupt, summon more and more daemons, and who knows what other blasphemous sorcery. It had to be a devastating, and rapid strike, or even with 5 armies strong, things could get ugly.
You took a sigh, finishing your morning exercises, and then donned a simple vest, decorated with the crest of Ruby Knights, pants and boots, to then walk out, turning your head to the sky. The sun, even deep within the ruined land, was shining brightly, a good omen indeed.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho!” You heard a lively laugh from the left, and turning, you saw her, Elizabeth, dressed similarly to you, her hair gently flowing with faint wind, the blue flame on her chest burning with great excitement. “Good morning, my dear Knight!” She greeted you brightly, a determined smile on her face “I hope you had a good and undisturbed night of sleep!”
“I had, my Lady” You kneeled, “I hope you had too. Today is going to be a arduous day, no doubt” You looked up at her. Simply put, she was beautiful. Even after a battle, coated in the grime, you couldn’t help yourself but see her as the most beautiful woman in the entire world. Every time you fought at her side, you could feel your spirit unbreakable and even more courageous than before. She extended her hand to help you, and your fingers touched, your heart warmed. How you wished you could tell her. But still, even in your position, you were a common man. An important commoner, but common nonetheless. And her, the Queen. Your Queen. For a moment, you thought her smile softened tenderly, and that her hand gripped yours just right as you got up, and that as you retracted your fingers it almost felt like she didn’t want to let go. But clearly, it must have been your imagination.
“It will,” She replied, chuckling, “But it will end in victory, I am sure. Now let us eat!” The two of you moved through the camp, you passed by other soldiers, both noble and peasant. When you got promoted, you thought they’d have all either snubbed you or casted you out of their circles. But it wasn’t. While the Bloodflames always had been illuminated rulers, never having treated the common folk as lesser, the social line of certain honours that the nobles kept jealously away from the commoners appeared somewhat insurmountable even for them, thing that evidently the Scarlet Queen was intent on breaking. The peasants looked you as a symbol of change and hope to break this last wall, and the nobles of the Ruby Knights welcomed you in their circle with open arms, knowing your valour.
Breakfast was simple: water, bread, and some meat, quite salty due to the conservation method, but hunting wasn’t an option in the corrupted zones, and all together was not too dissimilar from what the regular soldiers ate, but the serving was definitely better, eating at a table, and with silver cutlery.
“Truly, in this most fateful day I feel sure I could fell a Great Unclean One by myself!” Lady Lance spoke proudly and excited, her hair short and blonde her eyes amber, even if you could swear more than once, that in the heat of battle, those pupils turned blood red, fighting almost like she was possessed by a sanguine hunger.
“I hope you can keep your nose closed for enough time then, Lance!” Sir ‘Hammer’ snickered back, his laugh that of a wise and friendly sage, taking a bite of his meal, an old Turtle Beast-Thiren, with bright pink hair, kept like a helmet’s plume, and goatee contrasting his green scaly skin. His sclera was yellow, with black pupil, the right eye covered by a patch. The Ruby Knights didn’t call each other by their names when in service, but by their weapons, forged in the same material as Elizabeth’s own blade, the Greatsword “Thorn” an exclusive heirloom of the Bloodflame line. Theoretically that was to not bolster egos, making their actions known by their armaments and the skill by which they were wielded, warrior and weapon bonded trough a spark of the Bloodflame that resided in each relic. Though, names were surely celebrated when in grand feasts and galas. Every weapon was an Heirloom of its own, the names of the wielders inscribed in the Bloodflame Chapel, where the rite of bonding was usually held. Yours was the first to be reforged since the inception of the holy weapons, the Sword, the original presumed destroyed by Archaon, or worse, corrupted by him and his forces.
The lot of you feasted, not a scrap left on plate once you were finished, and then all walked towards the tents once more, to be armoured.
The servants started to place the various layers of your armour: a chainmail shirt, the heavy links clinking against one another as it was strapped around your stomach and forearms, and a white tabard, reaching well down to your shins, a ruby rose decorating the bottom. Then armoured boots, greaves and cuisses, the decorated and refined metal enclosing your legs, knee guards between the two plates; after it the first of the chest area, a layered plackart, the pieces fastened together, to then be covered by another plate, the cuirass, that reinforced the upper part of your torso. Your arms were next: gauntlets, vambraces couters, reembraces, and slightly oversized pauldrons, on the left one the symbol of the Kingdom and Crown, on the right one engraved the Bloodflame weapon of the respective Knight. Lastly, a layer of padding over your head and a Great Helm, the fissure lacking a noseguard, but giving you in exchange more vision.
You exited your tent at the same time as the others, going to the camp’s stables to retrieve your mounts: Winged Unicorns, adorned with armour and heraldry of the respective riders, their fur candid, their plumage majestic. You straddled on, both hands gripping on the reins, lightly whipping them to make unicorn move as the troops rallied, you and the knights around the Queen.
Elizabeth made her steed walk on top of a cliff, a grand and regal gryphon, watching over her armies, taking a look at their faces, committing to her memory each and everyone, men and women, young and old, humans, thirens, dwarfs, elves, halflings, orcs, dragonborns and many, many more. A comet suddenly passed, golden light encircling it. She smiled, for that was the last sign she was waiting for from the Goddesses of the Council, this from Sana specifically, the Speaker of Space. In the last days, the Scarlet Queen saw first a rat, the fur red on the upper part of its body, the lower azure in a flaming pattern, the two hides separated by a white line, yellow Xs on its shoulders, the sign of Baelz, the leader of the Council, the true goddess and incarnation of Chaos, in its pure and unmocked form, representing the contradictory random but orderly system that made the universe work, unlike the corrupting cancer that were the Dark Gods and their domains of slaughter, betrayal, rot, excess, ruin and tyranny. The second, a long, pale snake, its eyes shining in a deep blue, the scales on its forehead forming a golden gear, sign of Kronii, Warden of Time. The third, a Kirin, its hide light green and white, its horns shining brightly, sign of a vindicative Fauna, the Keeper of Nature, usually towards the witness, but the feeling she had when meeting it was all but dread. The fourth had been a great owl, shining in divine light, support from the Guardian of Civilization, Mumei, and the fifth twin comets streaking in the night sky, one pure white, the other pure black, IRyS’ omen, goddess of Hope and Despair. The comets, depending on what you wished on, could give you what you wanted tenfold, or make you suffer the opposite in equal measure.
“ROSARIANS!” She shouted loud, rallying them “TODAY, WE FIGHT AGAINST THE DARKNESS ONE LAST TIME! WE DEFY THE DARK GODS AND THEIR LACKEYS! THE COUNCIL WATCHES OVER US, AND WE SHALL NOT BE FOUND WANTING, FOR ANYONE OF YOU HERE, IS A HERO IN ITS OWN RIGHT ALREADY! WE FIGHT NOT FOR GLORY, BUT FOR OUR FAMILIES! OUR FRIENDS! OUR FUTURE!”
The cries of thousands and more people erupted in the air alongside fists and blades, you and your fellow rising your weapons upwards too.
“ROSARIANS!” She called once more. “ON MARCH! TO OUR DESTINY!”
The stride was silent, at least for you and the knights. Behind you could hear murmurs and laughs, excitement and worry. The Knights covered the sides and the back their queen, but the front was exposed. She always had been right there, the Bloodflames a line of courageous and valorous leaders, and she wasn’t going to desert her position. From closest to furthest at her left there was Fist, a wild spirited Gremlin, her long tail ending a hand like appendage, her hands covered by two oversized gauntlets, her eyes pink, hair brown and blonde, the smallest of the group, standing at barely 153 cms. Next you and then Lance, after her Greataxe, a massive Dragonborn woman that stood at 230 cms tall, with red scales and sapphire blue eyes, except for the black, slit-like pupils, having also long orange hair kept in a thick braid, her weapon colossal in its own right, taller than even her. She was undoubtedly the most fierce of you all, diving in fights faster than even Lance and Fist, channelling an inner rage that was akin to that of a barbarian rather than the calm determination of a noble fighter, her helmet customized to be opened by the movement of her jaw, in case she wanted to bite with both her teeth and the serrated rim of the helmet, or launch fire to her enemies. At Elizabeth’s right, instead, there was Claw, a panther Thiren, though, her hair pink, her eyes golden, the soft tail kept under additional plates. Alongside her talons, she could also count on her god-eyes, a gift of the Goddess of Space from her account, allowing her to teleport and discover where her prey was, and that also aided in her artistic pursues before the war. Then Hammer, Rapier, an elf mage with long blonde hair and brown eyes. Quite the snobby one, but not so much to result unlikeable, and you had to admit his arcane knowledge and skill was formidable and warranting at least a bit of self-admiring. After him, Scythe, her helmet resembling a skull, even keeping a hood over it. Her skin was pale, her eyes and hair light grey, her face full of wrinkles due to old age. You could have sworn she was death herself when you first saw her. Behind Elizabeth there was Cecilia, riding atop a mechanical steed, her armor white, with green and brass rims, holding her Javelin upwards. At her left Flail, a human in his middle-age, and from what you had heard, the closest comrade of your predecessor. At her right Halberd, a rat Thiren with brown hair and fur on his tail and ears, his left eye green and right blue, and Mace, a Tiefling with pale grey skin, white hair, Vantablack horns and tail, her eyes red like hellfire, the sclera fully black.
The march brought you through a small, withered forest, the sky turning red, the sun hidden by a dark hole in the sky, and then to on a small hill that gave into a valley of withered soil, scarred with trenches and smaller sets of walls circling the Writhing Fortress, Archaon’s first stronghold in the realm, and the last he’ll ever reside in. The backline knights made their way to the edges of the formation, Claws making space between Elizabeth and her for Cecilia, other formations of knights also making way to the frontline, immediately behind you was the melee wielding infantry. The Queen looked at each of her Knights, you almost having the impression her gaze lingered a bit more on you than the others. As she moved her gaze forward once more, you shook your head, trying to remove the thought. You needed to be concentrated.
“ROSARIANS!” The Scarlet Queen roared. “CHARGE!”
And you, as all the rest of the Ruby Knights, snapped the bridles, charging alongside the rest of the Rosarian Army, seeing rocks and explosive launched by catapults and cannons.
“FOR THE BLOODFLAME KINGDOM!” Everyone screamed at once, drowning even the rumbling of feet and hooves on rock and dead dirt, the unicorns trampling over a small garrison of skavens, the oversized vermin scattering or getting cut by the blades of you and your comrades, Cecilia exploding one through a shockwave generated by her javelin, as Elizabeth raised a shield of flames over all of you to defend against and incoming ray of warp-lighting and salvo of rockets, shot by the war machines on top of the walls.
“WEAPONS FORWAD!” Elizabeth ordered as the gates opened, letting out the twisted cavalry of the Varanguard, Archaon’s own elite cavalry.
Before they reached halfway to you, your weapons were held ready, waiting command.
“FIRE!” You concentrated on the connection to the spark of Bloodflame imbedded in your Sword, hardening your grip on the hilt. The blade ignited in blue fire, as all the other relics did, to then project torrents of holy flame against the fell riders, Cecilia casting a sonic projectile from her javelin, breaking open the torso of a knight of ruin, the others burning alongside their warped steeds.
Behind them a horde of Warriors of Chaos and demons, their armours and mutations of all sorts of colours and shapes, dawi-zarr, those dwarfs corrupted by Hashut, armoured skavens, and a menagerie of mutated beasts, monsters, and infernal engines.
Elizabeth made her gryphon leap in the air, jumping onto a mechanical minotaur, flames rising in its belly and on top of its back as it burned the energy of neverborns, making it fall down, Thorn swung to decapitate it. Lance impaled a Rotsword of Nurgle, Hammer crushing the leg of a Khorgorath, as Claw dematerialized from her mount, reappearing on top of it, digging her weapons in, to then split the skull of the monster in two, teleporting back on the saddle of her unicorn. Fist slammed her gauntlet against the chest plate of another Chaos Knight, sending him flying. You drove your blade through the helmet of a Stormfiend, but one of the many products of the Skaven’s twisted ingenuity, Mace mauling the support brain-rat held on the beasts back, causing the creature to die completely as you bashed your shield against the face of a Bloodletter, its boiling blood splashing against your armour, leaving no damage at all. Scythe swung wide and precisely, ending the charge of multiple marauders, Halberd driving his weapon through a deamonette of Slaneesh, slamming it against a Tzaangor, Flail eviscerating the beak and arm of the bird-like creature with the multiple flanges hanging from the chains of his weapon, as Rapier summoned a vortex of blades in the midst of a group of fell dwarves, piercing through the skull of the only who was able to dodge the spell with his finesse weapon, Greataxe parrying a cleave of the talons of a Hell Pit Abomination, to then jump up from her mount and slam her weapon on the patchworked titanic rat’s head, breaking through its skull and turning its brain into mush, to then cut through the various, smaller heads, ripping one off with her bare hand.
You all charged into the city, making your way through streets of the accursed citadel, a Myrmydesh, an Acolyte of Tzeench, a Beast of Nurgle, then more demons, more war machines, more mortals, more monsters, all falling by your hands, by the hands of the Scarlet Queen and by the hands of the Ruby Knights, your eyes wide as Lance charged alone a Greater Demon of Nurgle, slaying the living rot with ease.
“Dismount.” The Scarlet Queen ordered as you reached the entrance of the tower where Archaon hid, each of you obeying immediately, the unicorns and the gryffin probably an obstacle in the corridors of the building. The animals flew away, ready to plunge back once the mission was completed to aid their riders once more. The ominous gate opened on its own, letting you in an empty, withered garden. As you explored, you still couldn’t find anyone defending it, as if the Everchosen sent everyone to fight in the city. A challenge, and a declaration of either courage, twisted respect, or delusions of omnipotence. Whatever the reason was, your mission to slay Archaon remained unchanged.
Finally, you stood in front of a massive metal gate, the symbols of the ruinous gods inscribed around a defiled Star of Chaos, the iron black as night, and the air felt heavy, brimming with purpose, as if the world held its breath. Many lost their lives; many more were in the balance of this fight’s outcome.
You couldn’t fail. Not now.
Elizabeth took a long breath, raising Thorn, a beam of fire breaking open the last gate.
The throne room was an opulently macabre hall, corpses, skeletons, skulls and mismatched bones of humanoid creatures, beasts and monsters hang on the walls, ceilings, columns and in piles on floors, equally grim trophies on metal spikes skewered on the ground.
7 thrones were on the other side of the room: at the centre sat Archaon, the Slayer of Kings stabbed into the ground at his right, just an arm away, his grand shield laid against the other armrest. The heavy armour of the Everchosen was black, decorated by thick, golden rims, as his right pauldron and helmet were entirely, the eye-slits giving into darkness. Tall and massive horns sprouted from the helm, smaller at the centre of the pauldrons, alongside a fiery crest, from his back hanging a blood red mantle, held by a chain, from which three skulls hanged.
The other 6 thrones were empty, but by just looking at them you could feel as if someone was seated. It wasn’t only the Council watching the day, but the Dark Gods too.
At the furthest left, the throne was made in pure Warpstone, the green crystal glowing, small arcs of lighting attacking the frame of copper, above it an overlined, down facing triangle in the same material. The next one was made with rotting flesh and bones, maggots and flies feasting on the decorative carcass, each bite’s mark regenerating after a few second, mold and funguses dying and blooming again at the same time, above the splat three outward pointing bones crafted into arrows, circles of flesh held between. Next to Archaon’s left stood a throne in gold frame and everchanging blue metal, above it a writhing metal flame, a golden eye in the middle of it. On the right side of Archaon, another throne, this one in brass, filled with skulls, the top of it a rune that looked like the outlines of a cranium. The fifth throne was the most pompous, golden framed, the high-relief lines too life-like, spikes outlining it. The leather of seat and splat were purple, with golden studs, pulsing, as if it was breathing; above the throne a purple gem, a crescent and a waning moon suspended above it. The last was made in gold and iron, lining of demonic energy passing the surfaces, reaching up to a bearded bull’s head, the horns holding a based v symbol, a line at the half of the right half of the letter.
Behind those, though, there was something of much more terrifying, at least in the immediate: a massive, black scaled demonic dragon, its hind legs hooved, while the front ones had cruel claws, its tail splitting in two, ending in fiery fur. Its gigantic wings spread out, as each of its 6 heads laughed. Dorghar, the Grand Marshal of the Apocalypse's demonic mount.
The Scarlet Queen and the Everchosen locked eyes for a moment, hatred and malice let free in the gaze of the other. Archaon raised his arm, the dragon jumping up, landing between him and those who seek the death of its Master.
In a collective war cry, you all charged the abomination, a sonic boom emitted from Cecilia’s Javelin redirecting a ray of chaotic energy sprouted by one of the heads, blue feathered and with a yellow beak, the shape of it gnarly and ravenous, hitting one of its wings, the membrane shot opened in a cannon ball sized hole, dark energy emanating from the wound, blades clashing against claws and dark scales.
The forked tail struck too, about to hit Claw as she flanked, a flurry of magical electricity sent the appendage back, Rapier’s hand still coated in it as he casted a shield to protect himself from getting shot by a cone of hellfire shot out of one of Dorghar’s heads, this one red skinned, it’s maw enormous, the lower canines reaching up to the half the mouth, bloodshot eyes crowned by black hair and long horns that pointed backwards. Magma erupted from another, this one looking like if a bull’s head was pushed back in almost dwarfish features, dark horns on top, braided, black beard ending with golden decorations below, hitting fully Greataxe, the dragonborn woman’s armor heating up so much it shined bright, her responding in kind with rays of blue and red flame from her weapon and her mouth, screaming in pain and rage, the right pauldron melting on her arm, burning the scarlet scales. The flame hit right on the eyes of the head, blinding it, giving Claw the occasion she needed. The panther Thiren stabbed through scale and flesh, propelling herself up, using the other blades to cut the throat clean off, Dorghar’s counter attack immediate: a head reminiscing that of a rabid rat, pallid skin covered by white fur near the neck, a multitude of contorting horns sprouting on top of it, unhinged its jaw, saving the long incisive teeth from the ray of green, electric energy mixed with stone fragments of the same colour emitted from deep its neck, but before it could hit Claw, her eyes shined light blue, teleporting herself to safety.
Halberd charged alongside Mace, the Rat stopping as he pointed his polearm downwards, allowing the Tiefling to step on it, to then fling her up, the Teufel cracking the Khornite’s skull as the rat Thiren stabbed its neck.
Then, another attack. A light purple coloured head, its features designed in twisted perfection, uncanny at the visage, screeched so loudly it sent most of the Knights to the ground, you included, and those who weren’t got dazed by the otherworldly scream, except Elizabeth. The Scarlet Queen was launched back too, but stabbed Thorn in to the ground, gripping the hilt with both hands to not crumble, swinging up right as the sixth’s head raised itself too, its skin sickly green, stuck in a jarring smile, regurgitating a torrent of accursed bile. The flame on Rose’s chest increased in its intensity, to then envelope the blade in blue fire, unleashing a scorching wall that rendered all in armless ash, the aegis then launched against the unholy dragon to counterattack. All remaining heads screamed in unison, as it felt the cleansing flames scorch not only its body, but also its blacked soul.
You stood back up, gripping harder the hilt of your sword, feeling your very being ignited by courage, and you charged with all your might. Hammer deflected with a thunderous crash Dorghar’s right claw, as Fist clashed against the other, both Knights shattering the bones, the Gremlin ripping off one the fingers, as the Turtle hit again to rupture the scales and flesh. The vulture head shot another magic ray, contrasted by a beam summoned by Rapier, both struggling for a few seconds, the elf grunting as his force prevailed, the magic bursting forward to reach and split open the feathered head. The Nurglite head vomited a concentrated blast of rotten bile, Flail’s weapon engulfed in flame as the chains moved to catch and redirect the torrent right to sender, Scythe moving like shadows beneath the dragon, disappearing in black mist, to then reappear right above the sickly head, his weapon descending like a divine guillotine, decapitating it.
Shoulder by shoulder, you and Lance run, no, galloped forward, your weapons igniting as their tips crushed against the beast’s armour, and thrusting with all the strength you can conjure, the blackened metal and scales broke as if they were dry leaves, stabbing in the flesh. The weapons boomed outwards a massive, explosive sphere of blue fire that incinerated the dragon’s insides, as other chunks of flesh were ripped outwards, both by the sanctified energy emitted by your weapon, and the souls of those the beast killed and devoured.
The remaining heads screamed in terror and pain, Claw appearing behind you two and teleporting you to the group before you got crushed by the falling corpse as it turned to ash.
As the last of the dragon decomposed, Archaon stood, his height much more impressive than any other in the room, gripping the hilt of the Slayer of Kings, the demonic blade igniting in hellfire, the guard fashioned like a neverborn’s skull, with the other hand grabbing his grand shield, emblazoned with the eight pointed star, itself locking to the arm.
One step. Then a second. Then nothing, just a faint trail image of where he stood, to then be right in front of Elizabeth in less than nothing, the Slayer of Kings striking down, with both unnatural speed and strength, a flash of light as she parried with Thorn, the clash of metal echoing in the whole room, both blades repelled by the sheer strength of the impact, Elizabeth falling down some meters behind you.
You and the other Knights charged, the Three Eyed King grasping Lance’s weapon, the young woman launched with it against Hammer, the strength that threatened to crack in the Relic Weapon sending both against a wall. A lighting-like stream of magic missiles was casted by rapier, the powerful spell reflected by the accursed armor, hitting and knocking out Halberd, Mace, and the Elf himself, Flail able to deflect it catching the ray between the chains and redirectioning it against the black throne.
Fist and Claw acted together, the Panther Thiren teleporting herself behind him as the Gremling attacked the front. Archaon bashed his shield against the smaller woman, his eyes lighting up to momentarily nullify the attempt at teleport of Claws after her weapons did not even left a scratch against his mantle, turning to hit her helmet with the pommel of the accursed blade, to then turn again, ready to strike the dazed and laying Gremlin, Greataxe grappling him and forcing him away, her jaw opening wide as flame spurted from her core, investing the dark armor. You, Scythe and Flail run, the latter arriving first behind him, his weapon swinging in the hair, the chains slipping between the helmet and neck, in an attempt to strangle him, as you and the pale woman lunged for his limbs. Before you reached him, Archaon kneed the Dragonborn on her stomach with such force to send the colossal heroine flying, ripping the chains from his neck and the weapon from its wielder, to then punch Flail in the face, ripping Scythe’s polearm from her hands and hitting her with the long pole on her neck. He moved the Slayer against you, reacting in time to parry but sending you to your knees, clearly savouring the moment as he slowly crashed you.
Cecilia crashed her javelin against him with a Sonic boom that made him lose footing for a fraction of a second, in which the Exalted Marshal swung his blade from yours, cutting in half the Automaton, time practically slowing in your mind. Between the fissures of your helmet, you saw hers. Not in despair or fear, but in determination, alongside Elizabeth reflecting on her armor, slowly standing, and so you tried again. You thrusted with all your might once more, your weapon coated in flame, again and again, but nothing. Not a hint of damage on the blackened metal, and as he brought his blade against you once more you jumped back, just with enough space to avoid being touched by the burning tip. You struck against his arm, the bracer left unscathed too, him bashing your torso with his shield, but you still somehow stood and swung at him.
“Fool.” He said, his voice grave, as you still attacked him without leaving damage. “Your weapon cannot hurt me. You cannot defeat me.”
“And who said that what was I trying to do?” You spat out laughing. You knew you couldn’t. You just needed to distract him until she was up again. Because she could. She would.
A powerful cry was heard as an immense torrent of blue flame impacted Archaon, sending him against his ruined throne, letting yourself fall on your knees, held only by the grip on your sword stabbing in the ground, coughing up some blood.
As Archaon stood up he saw Elizabeth being engulfed in her own flame, creating what looked like a second set of scorching armour, raising her Greatsword in a wide arc that culminated against the Slayer of Kings, the accursed metal screaming screaming as it was dug in deeply by Thorn. Archaon slammed his arm up, freeing himself from the blade lock, to then grip with both hands and thrust for her hearth, the Scarlet Queen side stepping, responding with an arc that cut in half Archaon’s blade, and a thrust of her own, the shield put between her blade and him like a piece of paper, Thorn melting it’s path to his shoulder, breaking and charring metal, skin, warpstone bone and withered meat, blood spilling. The Grand Marshal tried to punch her away, the fist coming close to her helmet, but for Elizabeth time stopped for a few moments, enough to grab his fist and break it. As the flow of time resumed, she was imbued with strength enough to raise a star, slamming him against the floor. Her eyes flashed green in a mental command, vines braking through the pavement, skewering the Three-Eyed King’s limbs to keep him down, as she maneuvered on red, crystalline constructs that brought her up in the air. She jumped, and a powerful aura was emitted from her. For you and your fellows, that aura was hope in its most courageous form, while for Archaon it was the first human-like emotion he felt in millennia, and the only one such as him deserved. Pure, unadulterated dread. From where you still kneeled, she looked like an angel of retribution, holding Thorn with both hands, blade pointed down, ready to skewer the Lord of the End Times, the trails of blue flames from her shoulders looking almost like wings. The Council did more than just look, they intervened in your favour, and the Dark Gods could only resume their observation as their chosen was impotent to his fate and their troops slaughtered outside.
She landed in a shockwave of flames, Thorn breaking through metal to impale his chest, concentrating the full power of the Bloodflame in a wave of flame that turned plasma, vaporizing Archaon, only a glowing silhouette persisting for a few seconds, and as she turned she sent a wave of blue flame crashing against the thrones, the reaction upon the contact with the pure, unstable warpstone of the Great Horned Rat’s seat a gigantic explosion that left nothing standing of the malignant pedestals, and then she stabbed the ground, her entire body enveloped in flame.
From the outside, you could hear inhuman screams as greater and lesser demons were forcibly removed from this plane, the chaotic corruption burned utterly away from the world, removing the vast majority of the remaining defenders.
You looked at your companions, battered and exhausted, but that still rose, some with the help of their weapons, such as Scythe, others with the help of others, like with the torso of Cecilia carried by Greataxe and Lance offering a helping hand to Hammer.
“Finally...” Elizabeth gasped, ending up on her knees, utterly exhausted by the sheer magnitude of power she used. “It’s... over.” She chuckled happily. “It’s over.”
You walked to her, offering your hand for her to rise eased.
“Thank you” she said happily, gripping on your hand. She took a few seconds to breathe. “Let us go. We shall vanquish the last of the evils that infest this city.”
You made your way out of the fortress, returning in the withered garden. The sky was now blue once more, the sun shining brightly. As you looked up, you could see the Knights’ herd returning descending from their flight, Elizabeth bringing up her visor.
“Oh Council. For the fallen, may their souls rest easy by your side. For those who remain, may they continue their lives with pride, honour, fortune and happiness.” She declared in simple prayer.
*
Many days later, the army was back in the capital, festivities on full swing. Parades, banquets and much more to celebrate the heroes of the realm. And you were at one of these. They were quite boring, at least compared to what you experienced before. This was just small talk, elegant exhibitions, and heavily practiced by-the-books dances. In the ballroom of the Bloodflame Caste, there were nobles from all the realm, some you recognized from the front, others only having ever saw their crests or faces, and of course, your fellow Knights, your Queen, and Cecilia, who had been first given hastily gathered substitute parts, to then be reunited with her master crafted backup parts upon return to the castle.
You walked on a balcony, gazing to the colourful and lit up lower city. After you tried both, you could say with confident that commoner’s festivities were way better, even without all the refined bling. You remained there for some minutes, appreciating the cold breeze and the glass of red wine you had in hand in silence, until you heard steps.
“Hey.” Fist, whose real name was Gigi Murin, walked on the balcony. She was one of the Knights closest to the Queen, alongside Raora Panthera, “Claws”, their bond having lived through decades, the trio knowing each other from childhood.
“Not a fan of these galas too, I see” she snickered, “It’s a lot more fun down there, dont’cha think?” she continued, dreamy, holding up her head over the railing with a hand, looking at the city below, her tail swinging softly. It was clear she was made for easier places, where one could let themselves be without need for protocol or etiquette.
“It is.” You said, looking at her as she smirked, her sharp teeth glinting with moon light. “Bet you sneaked off more than one time, didn’t you?”
“How could you ever accuse me, a most courageous and appropriate knightess of such a thing?” She theatrically replied, bringing a hand to her forehead, to then laugh “Of course, of course I did. And I am not the only one.” She smiled even more smug, leaving you surprised, but also delighted. “Anyhow... our dear Queen is waiting for you by the gates. Wear something...” She looked at your uniform, red cloth decorated by golden embroidery. “Less flashy.”
For a second you were stunned. Elizabeth, wanting to see you alone? Not in uniform? That was... surprising to say the least. But who were you to deny it, both because your queen was asking for your presence, and when you dreamed of a situation like this? Just the two of you...
“So?” Gigi snapped you out of the daydream. “Are you going or not?”
“Oh-of course!” You replied, a bit embarrassed as the Gremlin chuckled. “I will be on my way, now. Have a good rest of the night.”
And so you went, traversing the halls and reaching your chamber in record time. You stripped methodically of your uniform, and then searched in your wardrobe, taking out a simple, plain, white shirt, leather belt, grey pants and boots. Modest, but still somewhat fancy, at least for you.
Approaching the exit you got some coin, putting in it a small sack and affixing it to your belt, and then made your way through the empty corridors, the silence a gift you long forgot about, between the clashes, marches and celebrations of the last days.
As you finally approached the gates, you saw her. She was dressed simply, and similar to you: a shirt, black pants, and boots. Most notably, her flame was missing from atop her chest.
“Good evening, my Queen.” You spoke reverently, bringing a fist to your heart to salute her. “Lady Murin told me you were waiting for me.”
“No need for formalities tonight, my Knight!” She replied, her upbeat voice almost chirping with enthusiasm. “You wouldn't want that the populace to interrupt us all the time, would you?” She laughed theatrically, not with malice towards her subject, but rather with hope for an easy and private night. “So shall we go, (anon)?”
“Sure thing, my Que- ahem, Elizabeth.” Your heart warmed a little as you spoke her name in front of her. It truly felt like the privilege it was. The gates raised, letting the two of you walk down the path to the city “If I may ask... what happened to your flame?”
“I suppressed it! For the most part, I let it act without interference, but I am in full control of it. Can’t have it blow my cover immediately, can we?” She chuckled, your ears delighted at the sound.
The travel down the path to the city, where the more exciting celebrations were being held, was a quiet one, but not a cold one. Elizabeth staid close to you, her hand accidentally brushing against yours a multitude of times as you walked, one time her fingers almost intertwining with yours, causing you both to blush. Strangely... clumsy of her, but she probably was just a bit tired after the long day.
The lower city was a wonderful mayhem, with magic lights decorating the streets, children running around the streets flooded with all sorts of people, songs echoing, the air smelling of various foods, from both the full tavern and street markets. You felt happy and prideful. This, the happiness of the people, it was also thanks to you.
“Where do you want to go, Elizabeth?” You smiled.