Elden Ring: Advent of the Game-Given (SI/Multiverse)

"Push, My Queen!"

Beyond the fog of space and time, in a distant land, the whimpers of a woman sounded out. Her muffled cries were just loud enough to fill her chambers, echoing into the ears of her chosen handmaidens, who did their best to ease their lady's pain.

A bed was situated in the center of the chambers–large enough to fit over five people and more. However, it was currently occupied by a single woman, her body sprawled towards one end of the bed to give easier access to her helpers.

She had silky, golden-blond hair, and golden eyes that shone with an ethereal light. A thin robe hugged her body, which did nothing to hide her voluptuous figure. As they worked, the handmaidens did their best to avoid looking directly at their lady's face, though not for reasons one would think of.

For the woman they served wasn't just any woman, she was Queen Marika, the goddess who ruled over their land, and the one who founded the Golden Order, the order they adhered to, and believed in.

As someone of divine nature, it was natural that her appearance would reflect her status, with a face so beautiful that it would bewitch those of weak wills. Presently, tiny beads of sweat ran down her face, in the wake of the ordeal she found herself under–the ordeal of childbirth.

Her belly was huge, hinting at more than one life nestling within her. Once in the past, she'd endured a similar pain, though it did not compare to how much worse she felt this time.

A sudden bout of pain hit her yet again, almost eliciting a scream that she cut off instantly, biting her lips hard enough to draw trace amounts of blood. It felt like something was scraping hard against her insides as if a ball of spikes was tumbling around in her stomach.

"Ye art almost finished! A mere push is all that is needed, My Queen." One of her closest handmaidens exclaimed, reflecting her desire to ease Marika's suffering.

She found her concern quite endearing, but one last wave of pain wracked her body, harsh enough to evoke a loud cry from within her. She gripped her bedsheets tightly, her strength proving to be overwhelming as parts of the sheets were completely torn to shreds in her iron grip.

It lasted a few moments, but slowly, she started to regain her bearings, her tired eyes shut tightly as she took large gasps of breath, trying to calm her beating heart. She felt someone gently tapping a dry cloth against her forehead.

Peaking a look, she found the same woman who had tried to comfort her moments earlier, wiping the sweat that had amassed on her skin. Dressed differently compared to the rest of her handmaidens, she wore a white robe, sporting an apron embroidered with depictions of a golden tree.

She wasn't just a regular handmaiden, but a renowned healer tasked with overseeing the Queen's health, and a confidant and close friend of Marika, holding a higher rank than the other handmaidens.

In the background, Marika heard someone crying– no, not just someone, but her child. With some difficulty, she called out to her handmaiden. The process of childbirth had taken its toll as she endeavored to stay awake long enough to hold her newborn children.

"Tricia..." she grunted, having her full attention as she spoke. "Mine children... let me behold them."

Knowing that Tricia would protest, she held up a hand, silencing her preemptively. "I shalt hold them but for a few moments, and that is beyond dispute," she all but ordered, giving Tricia no choice but to obey.

Her handmaiden remained silent for a moment but eventually relented with a sigh. "Very well, but ye must rest after. Thy body calls for it."

Marika let up a smile, grateful for her consideration. Tricia smiled back briefly, before getting up and turning around to find the rest of the handmaidens, their eyes laser-focused on the two handmaidens, or the newborn children they held, wrapped in bundles of cloth.

Something was wrong, she could feel it. Their gazes did not hold the warmth one would have when looking at a child. All she could see was fear and disgust in their eyes, especially in the eyes of the two who held the babies in their arms.

They looked lost, almost ready to drop the newborn babes, the only thing preventing them from doing so was the singular fate that would befall them–death.

Perhaps it sensed the impending danger, as the baby that had been quiet until now began to whimper, flailing its arms to escape the handmaiden's grip.

"Lady Tricia... please..." the handmaiden called out to the healer, her voice a hushed whimper. She raised the baby in her arms towards her, hoping the healer would take it away from her as quickly as possible.

She took the baby in her arms, fearing that the handmaiden might truly harm the child if she waited any longer. Carefully moving the cloth, she caught a glimpse of hard bone-like structure. As she fully uncovered the baby's face, she truly understood why the handmaidens reacted the way they did.

'O' Erdtree, have thou truly forsaken this child?'

She asked silently, not expecting any answers, yet she still asked. Seeing the clusters of reddish-white horns sprouting from the majority of the baby's body, pity was all she felt for the child, having been delegated such a cruel fate.However, the worst was yet to come.

Gently cradling the child, she walked back towards Marika with slow steps, hoping to delay the children's impending fate, even if it was by only a few precious seconds.

"My Queen..." she called for her attention, slightly bending over so that her Lady had a clear view of her child. Marika opened her eyes, gazing at Tricia first, but her gaze moved into the bundle she had in her arms, and her breath hitched.

Her body went still as if in a trance for a few moments. Horns, jars, flesh, a tower of corpses–vivid imagery flashed before her eyes, as dreadful memories clawed their way out of the deepest depth of her mind, only to be suppressed as her breathing became labored again.

"Wh... w-what is the meaning of this?!" she questioned, anxiety and dread filling her divine veins as she gazed at what was supposed to be her child. She didn't want to believe what she was seeing. She wanted to think it was a lie, that what she saw was not real.

"My Queen... t'is your babe, born of your blood." Tricia clarified, hoping to calm her. On the contrary, her answer just fueled the fire.

"Lie... that's a lie! For mine child to be born cursed... their curse... preposterous! I wouldst sooner gouge mine own eyes out than claimeth that... thing as my child! Out with them, let them rot in the sewers, lest mine eyes be sullied any longer!"

Tricia stared wide-eyed at Marika, shocked at her outburst. She knew Marika disdained all Omens, which was apparent by their sub-human treatment, as they were treated worse than even the likes of criminals.

But to hate her children, whom she'd spent blood, sweat, and tears to give birth to...

"But My Queen..." she called out, hoping to persuade her, but it seemed Marika was hell-bent on getting rid of her newborns.

"Enough! Force me not to repeat myself!" she declared, her tone making it clear that she would brook no further disobedience.

"I... very well. As ye wish, My Queen." Tricia finally relented, albeit hesitantly. She did not want to acquiesce to her demands, but not doing so would draw even more ire towards her, or even worse, the child in her arms.

She prepared to leave the room, making sure the child's figure was fully covered so no one else saw what they were. She grabbed the other newborn child using her free arm, which the handmaiden was happy to give away to her, judging by the relieved look on her face.

She frowned at such behavior but didn't confront her about it, choosing to leave the room with the babies in tow. However, in her haste, she had forgotten something, or rather, someone waiting outside the room.

As the doors closed behind upon leaving the room, she was met face-to-stomach with a giant of a man, standing tall, reaching almost 4 meters in height. He was dressed in reddish-gold armor covering most of his body, barring some parts like his joints, head, and neck, revealing lightly tanned skin.

But the most peculiar thing about this man was the giant, ethereal lion perched on his shoulders, wearing the same armor as the man.

As soon as she saw the man, Tricia cursed silently and hurriedly bowed as low as she could go, without jeopardizing the safety of the two children in her grasp.

"Ah! Lord Godfrey, I greet thee." she greeted with respect. Godfrey raised his hand, acknowledging her greeting.

"Thou mayest rise." He said, his grace-given eyes falling on the two bundles of cloth she held, covering something. Knowing that the Queen was going through childbirth in her room, he asked for confirmation, "Hast Marika given birth?"

She nodded slowly, hoping that he'd let her go just like that without asking for more, but her response prompted him to question further. "Then, those clothed bundles... art they...?"

Although she wasn't sure whether to answer truthfully at first, she remembered that his elite squadron of combatants consisted of various Crucible Knights. So hoping for the best, she took a gamble.

"...Yes, My Lord. They art your children, but..." she trailed off, not finishing her sentence, still unsure of her decision. Godfrey noticed this, raising an eye in question, but he forsook asking her verbally.Instead, he gently picked up one of the babies from her grasp, leaving her frozen in place. Moving parts of the cloth covering the baby's face, he was met with clusters of horns growing from the edges of its face, covering parts of dark grayish skin.

Not only that, but it seemed to be missing its lips, revealing tiny pinpricks growing from where the teeth would usually be.

He was left wide-eyed for a few moments, but then the corners of his eyes softened as he gazed at the child with a trace of warmth.

Using the index finger of his free hand, he gently poked the baby's chubby cheek. As if recognizing who was holding it, the baby giggled as it raised both arms slowly, grabbing the finger half the size of its head... only to start biting on it.

Seeing the baby's actions, the Elden Lord couldn't help but chuckle in amusement as he spoke to the baby, "Thou'rt quite feisty, little one."

Upon seeing his reaction, Tricia let out a sigh of relief, knowing that at least the Elden Lord held no animosity for the children. Relaxing a little, she chimed in with knowledge regarding the baby's gender.

"I believe the one in thy embrace to be a girl, whiles this one is a boy," she enlightened him respectfully.

The newfound knowledge sent him into a pause, as he seemed to mull over something. Gazing at the child in his arms, he stared in silence, before uttering a word.

"Mehg."

"My Lord?" Tricia questioned, not understanding what he meant.

"Mehg, that shalt be'est her name," he repeated, declaring her identity.

"Mehg..." she murmured, engraving the name into her memory. She smiled, knowing that at least the child wouldn't be so unfortunate to live without a name.

But there was still the matter of their next destination, chosen for them by the Queen, without any concern for their lives. So with a heavy heart, she called out to Godfrey.

"My Lord, may I ask something?" she asked permission to speak, wanting to bring up the topic of their impending exile into the sewers.

"Thou mayst." He approved.

"Queen Marika, she... she ordered for the children to be forced... into... the sewers," she said, trailing off at the end as her voice was akin to a whisper.

All of a sudden, she heard growling. Looking beyond his shoulders, she found the source to be the ethereal lion hanging from his body. It seemed angry, its face locked into what appeared to be a scowl, baring its sharp teeth at her.

Tricia stood frozen in place. It felt like she was staring into the jaws of a beast– wait no, she was staring into the jaws of a beast. Ultimately, the lion itself broke off the stare-off after a few moments as it started to calm down.

"I see..." he mused loudly, a disappointed look briefly flashing on his face before he quickly schooled his features, returning to a neutral expression.

Turning his head to the side, he called out to someone behind him. "Siluria, escort the handmaiden and mine children to her chambers. See to it that none layeth eyes or hands upon them."

Apprehensive and curious as to whom he was speaking to, she tilted her body to look past him, finding two Crucible Knights standing some meters away. However, they weren't just any regular Crucible Knights.

Both were dressed in nearly identical reddish-golden armor, the only difference being the small variances in their chest armor, their distinctly shaped helms, and the weapons they held.

One carried a greatsword along a horn shield, while the other held a great spear resembling a tree, with horns jutting out closer to the end of the shaft.

The two were considered the strongest out of all Crucible Knights, having the honor of serving directly under the Elden Lord Godfrey, and leading squads of their own, consisting of only Crucible Knights trained in similar schools of combat.

Upon hearing the order, the knight with the great spear stepped forward, heeding his order as a feminine voice rang out from within the helm.

"As you wish, My Lord," she saluted, then turned towards Tricia, addressing her, "Follow me, stay close, and wander not afar."

The handmaiden heeded her instructions, but only after politely asking the Elden Lord to Mehg to her, which he did with some reluctance.

Once she was ready, Siluria started walking away with Tricia and the babies in tow. They were only a few meters away when...

"Wait," Godfrey called, stopping them in place.

Tricia turned around, her face questioning as she saw him take a few steps towards her. His eyes fell on the child– the boy he hadn't held and hadn't glimpsed the visage of.

He uncovered the cloth covering the baby's face with bated breath, revealing a visage similar, yet unlike Mehg's–Dark grey skin just like his sisters, horns mostly growing from his forehead, and lips of grey, like his skin. Another notable difference was that his skin felt akin to fur, softer to the touch.

He gently caressed the boy's face and unlike his sister, his reaction was milder, making small sounds, while slowly rubbing his face against the warm finger.

"It wouldst avail thee naught to dwell nameless in this world," he advised, "From today onwards, thy name shalt be..."

He stopped, taking a breath and declaring the boy's name, which would come to be known by many in the distant future.

"Morgott!"