Fia

I am pleased to see you again.

Would you like me to hold you, once more?

I am pleased to see you again.

Would you like me to hold you, once more?

The blessing is still aflame in your breast, dear.

Would you like to be held, regardless?

Now, come closer...

Then good day to you, my dear.

You are...very warm...

What you felt light up inside you was a baldachin's blessing.

Though it is but a fleeting thing, I am afraid.

Come back to me, should you require another.

I will take you in my arms as often as you need.

You are so...very warm...

I was known as a Deathbed Companion, where I come from.

After I received the warmth and lifely vigour from a number of champions,

I lay with the remains of an exalted noble, to grant him another chance at life.

To do so is the purpose of my being.

But before I could bear the noble into new life,

I was awakened by the guidance of grace, and chased from my birthplace.

Pray, be kind.

Despite all that, I still wish to be a Deathbed Companion.

So please, let me hold you like this, as often as it takes.

My dear...

Might I ask something of you?

Could you please find the owner of this dagger, and return it to them?

A certain person gave it to me, as a gift.

It's a very precious thing. It must have a special place in the owner's heart.

So I would like for the original owner to have it back, if you wouldn't mind.

I'd like you to find the owner of the dagger I gave you, and return it to them.

It's a very precious thing. It must have a special place in the owner's heart.

My dear...

Have you ever heard of black knifeprints?

Dear Rogier likes to talk of them when abed.

And the ancient plot, in which the first of the Demigods was slain.

The black knives wielded by the assassins who committed the act,

along with the impressions they made, somehow hide the truth of the conspiracy.

These grand affairs are hardly my forté...

But dear Rogier began to weep as he spoke...

Dear Rogier likes to talk of it when abed.

The ancient plot, in which the first of the Demigods was slain.

The black knives wielded by the assassins who committed the act,

along with the impressions they made, somehow hide the truth of the conspiracy.

I heard that you lent a hand to dear Rogier.

He seemed positively elated.

He must be possessed of great mental fortitude.

It anchors his will, and sustains him, despite his grievous wounds.

You truly are a champion.

To dear Rogier, and myself, too.

In truth I've heard tell from someone else,

about the black knifeprints that fascinate dear Rogier so.

But It wouldn't be right to give this to him, stuck as he is in the Roundtable HoldLandmark.

Perhaps you could make use of it?

I will soon lay with Godwyn.

And it will surely stir within me.

the new life of the golden prince, and first Dead of the demigods,

as the rune of Those Who Live in Death.

Please, do one thing for me.

Brandish this child, my rune, and take for yourself the throne.

Stay the persecution of Those Who Live in Death.

By becoming our Elden Lord.

I will soon lay with Godwyn.

To conceive my child, the rune.

Brandish my rune, and take for yourself the throne.

Stay the persecution of Those Who Live in Death.

By becoming our Elden Lord.

Have you ever seen a hallowbrand?

When the first of the demigods died, his flesh was marked with the half-wheel wound of the centipede.

Godwyn's hallowbrand has since been recovered at the Roundtable HoldLandmark.

But there is another hallowbrand out there somewhere.

And I must find it.

Before the time comes we receive our Lord.

When Godwyn died, a hallowbrand scored his flesh.

But another exists. Another mark in the shape of the half-wheel wound of the centipede.

And I must find it.

Before the time comes we receive our Lord.

My hands will be dirtied once more by the deed.

Will you still let me hold you, even then?

When Godwyn died, a hallowbrand scored his flesh.

But another exists. Another mark in the shape of the half-wheel wound of the centipede.

And I must find it.

Before the time comes we receive our Lord.

This...is the other hallowbrand.

How did you...

Oh, my utmost thanks.

With this, Godwyn can take his rightful place as First of the Dead.

And claim a second, illustrious life.

You are my-- our true champion.

And though I can't be of any use to you...

Can I hold you tight, if only for a moment?

This is goodbye, my dear.

But I am satisfied.

I choose to lie with Godwyn of my own will. Not the remains of one chosen for me.

And I will bear a child.

Who will inherit your warmth, too.

What greater blessing could there be, but to be born a Deathbed Companion?

Oh, my dear...

Had a change of heart already?

Greetings, great champion called by grace.

I am Fia.

Circumstances have compelled my stay at the Roundtable HoldLandmark.

Great champion, would you allow me to hold you, but briefly?

Perhaps you might share with me some of your lifely vigour, and your stout-heartedness.

Doing so will grant me the warmth of a champion.

And you, I am sure, will bear a baldachin's blessing.

Do you think it vulgar, perhaps?

Where I come from, it is a sacred act.

Ah, my thanks, great champion.

I understand.

Your disdain is only natural.

But should you change your mind...

Come pay me another visit.

Finally, it is returned to its rightful place.

The stolen hallowbrand, of the exalted noble.

And now, I must bid you goodbye as well.

Though I ask you deliver this message to the Roundtable HoldLandmark.

I am Fia, Deathbed Companion.

Hark, Roundtable. Disturb not the Death of Godwyn, the exalted.

We, who humbly live in Death...

Live in waiting, to one day welcome our Lord.

What right does anyone have to object?

Our Lord will rise. The Lord of the many, and the meek.

Go on, kill me.

You deny us, do you not?

Because we deign to live in Death, and wish our Lord to rise to glory.

Ah...there you are.

I knew you would come.

What is it you intend?

To deny us, and our ways?

Like the dogmatic brutes of the Golden Order?

I see. Then you must kill me.

For I am the companion of Godwyn, Prince of Death.

I wished to be a mother to Those Who Live in Death.

So it is, that any loathing, any hatred that overshadows them...

I must bear, as a matter of duty, with my own flesh.

You are an odd one.

I am the guardian of Those Who Live in Death.

They call me a foul and rotten witch.

Yet you still wish to be held by me?

Godwyn...

Is that you, dear?

Will your kind never stop?

Ravaging...the weak?