The Shattering

Chapter 4

-Leyndell, The Royal Capital-

A young boy sat among the branches of the tree. He curled his knees up to his chest and laid his head against the bark, letting tears fall down his cheeks. It was futile to hold them in.

"Do you plan on staying up there all day, little lord?"

He looked down at the voice below. Queen Marika stood radiant as ever. Her hair flowed softly against the wind, and her crown perfectly caught the dashes of light that shimmered through the leaves.

The boy sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I don't want to talk."

"I think it would help." She called. He didn't respond, burying his face in his knees.

She approached the base of the tree and put a hand on the smooth bark.

"Godwyn, I know it feels safe up there, but I need you to come down."

He looked down, hesitating. After a moment, he climbed down and rushed to her side, throwing his arms around her waist. Marika stroked his hair, cooing as he sobbed into her stomach.

"Wh-Why did he have to die?... I... I didn't even..." He cried harder.

She knelt to her knees and held him close to her. "I know your heart is broken, my son. I'm so sorry."

"I just... I don't understand..." He whimpered. She pulled away, cupping his cheek with her hand, wiping his tears.

"Your father was very ill. It was foolish for him to go hunting in his state... I'm afraid he was too weak to defend himself once the marauders found him. But I know he was thinking of you in his last moments. You were what made him strong."

Godwyn looked up at her with glistening eyes and a quivering lip, "Will... Will I be able to see him?... Before-"

"No," She said firmly, before softening her tone, "No... We were unable to retrieve him. There was nothing left of him... there will be no burial, I'm afraid."

Tears began flooding from his eyes as he stared up at her in horror. "Nothing?..."

Marika looked down at him with great sadness. She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly a leaf crunched from the other side of the garden.

"Mother?..." A tiny voice whimpered. When she looked up, she was greeted with her two boys, Margott and Mohg, the twins. They were accompanied by Maliketh.

Her eyes darkened and she stood, still holding Godwyn's tiny hand.

"I thought I told you to tell the children, brother."

Maliketh glanced at the horned heads of the twins and then back at their mother. The boys were different from Godwyn. They were born of the Omen race. Thus, they were afflicted with curled horns and tails. Though the primordials bestowed this as a blessing, many revered it as a curse.

"I've told them. They know." He looked at the twins sympathetically. "I thought they may gain some comfort from their mother-"

"You fool." She hissed. He flinched. "Do you know what could happen if they were seen out in the garden? Outside their chambers?"

"I thought... I just assumed under the circumstances-"

"Circumstances be damned!" She walked to the boys and clutched them closer to her, glaring at Maliketh fiercely. "Never make this mistake again. I will not have my children taken away from me."

He looked down, quickly averting his eyes. "I apologize, Marika. I-I'm not sure what I was thinking."

She stared at him for a moment, before realizing that the children in her grasp were shaking. She loosened her grip on their arms and knelt down.

"I'm sorry, I..." She sighed and gently stoked their cheeks. "You know I worry. But this is not the time for rage. I know that."

The boys sniffled, shaking slightly. She took both of their hands. "We will talk about your father. Let's return you both to your chambers. I love you."

They murmured back in reciprocation, and she stood once more, looking back at Maliketh.

"Take them back to their rooms. I will join in a moment, I'd like to have a word with Godwyn."

Godwyn looked up at her in surprise as Maliketh turned and led the boys back into the shadows of the castle. When they were gone, Marika looked down at Godwyn and extended her hand.

"Let us take a walk."

In the corridor, they kept a slow, methodical pace. Godwyn looked down at the capital below, watching the city breathe with life. Merchants, citizens, soldiers, all working and bustling about the square. The sun had begun to set, and the people were steadily closing up shops and heading home after a long day's work.

"All of those people you see, every inch of that square, will be yours to rule one day." Marika strode beside him, watching his curious eyes scan the horizon. Usually his eyes were bright, but today they were dull.

"Why me?" He looked up at Marika. "What about Mohg or Morgott?"

She sighed softly, looking away from him. "Your brothers are... different. They aren't like you. Though I love them with all of my heart, they will never be fit to rule Liurnia."

"Because of their horns?" He asked softly.

"It's... deeper than that. The Golden Order does not look kindly on their affliction. If the world were to know of their existence... I fear something terrible would happen to them." She looked down at him again. "That is why we can never speak of them. To anyone."

Godwyn looked troubled by this. "But... Why do I not have the affliction?"

She drew in a deep breath. The words of the harpy rang through her mind... 'Beware the tarnished. Beware'... She wondered gravely if it meant Godfrey. If it meant the children.

"Your father was not the man you thought he was. He used to be a great warrior, the strongest I had ever seen. But when age reached him and the last of his enemies fell... he lost his way. He wasn't the lord that I knew anymore." She looked down at Godwyn, who stared at her in confusion. "Godfrey's ancestors were of Omen blood. Though he was merely a fraction of that bloodline, he was still in the shadow of the Omen gods, the primordial. The twins were born when when your father's strength had left him... so the gods stepped in and offered a blessing to the children. You were conceived when he still had strength to pass on."

There was a long silence. "If... If it was a blessing, why would the Golden Order hate them?" He asked quietly, as if making sure no one could hear.

"You'll soon learn that the gods wage war just as the people of Liurnia do. They fight, they disagree. Some see the affliction as a blessing, while others see it a curse. It's all us mortals can do to appease and survive their conflict." She placed a hand on his back. "I tell you this now, because you will one day take my place. I will leave you just as your father has, and you must be ready. Your father was not fit to hold the title of Elden Lord, but you," She knelt down and met him at eye level, "you are fit. You are Godwyn the Golden, my first born. Your power will grow beyond measure, and you will inherit the throne. Do you understand what that means?"

He slowly shook his head.

"It means... that the Elden Rings will bend at your will. You will be the rightful Elden Lord. The heir to the gods."