Elden Ring: Tarnished Flame Vyke

Nyra's gaze narrowed as she watched Sellen's dismissive wave. . "We shouldn't linger," she muttered under her breath.

He nodded, glancing between the two women. The tension between them hadn't dissipated entirely, but it would have to be set aside for now. "Let's move. Stormveil won't conquer itself."

As they turned to leave, Irina hesitated, her soft voice breaking the silence. "If you're going to Stormveil, my lord... promise me you'll come back." Her hands clasped nervously in front of her, her concern palpable.

He paused, looking back at her. "I always come back, Irina," he said with a small, confident smile. "Take care of yourself—and listen to Sellen."

Irina nodded. "May the grace guide you."

As they stepped out into the open air, Nyra walked slightly ahead. She didn't speak until they were well away from the sorceress's chamber. When she did, her voice was clipped. "You put too much trust in her."

He glanced at her, frowning slightly. "Sellen has her faults, but she's an ally."

"She's a snake,"

"Always twisting her words, hiding her motives behind that mask."

"And yet," he countered, "you still work with her."

Nyra stopped abruptly, turning to face him. "For you. Only for you." Her expression was fierce, but there was something else in her eyes—something softer, more vulnerable, hidden beneath her anger. "Don't think for a second I trust her."

"You don't have to trust her. But we need her—for now."

Nyra huffed, turning away again. "I don't like it," she muttered, resuming her pace.

He stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Nyra."

Her shoulders stiffened, and she hesitated before answering. "…Yes?"

"Who do you follow?"

"You," she replied instantly, the answer slipping from her lips without hesitation.

"And who do you listen to?"

"You," she repeated, her voice quieter this time.

"Who do you care about?"

"You." The word came softer than a whisper, but as soon as it escaped her lips, she froze.

A heavy silence hung between them, broken only by the faint rustle of wind. Her cheeks burned beneath the shadowed hood of her Black Knife armor, the heat creeping up her neck. Though her face was hidden, the slight tilt of her head and the shift in her posture betrayed her embarrassment.

He said nothing for a moment, watching her reaction. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Good," he said finally, his voice low and steady.

Before she could turn away, his hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. 

Their bodies pressed together, the cool, textured metal of her armor brushing against his cloak. He couldn't ignore the curve of her slim waist, her proportions a striking contrast to the stoic, deadly presence she usually carried.

Nyra froze, her breath catching in her throat. Should she push him away? Her instincts screamed for control, but her heart refused to obey. He was the one who had come into her life when it was shrouded in darkness. He was the light she never thought she'd find, a presence she could lean on when everything else felt hollow.

For the first time in years, she felt wanted—not as a weapon or an assassin, but as herself.

She didn't resist. Her arms hung at her sides at first, trembling slightly, but as his warmth surrounded her, she allowed herself to yield. Slowly, her gloved hands rose, resting lightly on his shoulders.

His fingers tightened slightly at her waist, his eyes locking onto hers through the shadow cast by her hood. "Nyra," he whispered, his voice low and intimate. "Take it off."

Her heart pounded in her chest as her trembling hands moved to the edge of the hood. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled it back, revealing her flushed face, her amber eyes glowing with a mix of nervousness and longing.

He studied her for a moment, as if committing every detail to memory. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing her lips with his.

Nyra's eyes widened briefly before closing as she melted into the kiss. Her fingers curled into his cloak, pulling him closer. The kiss was soft at first, but it quickly deepened.

In that moment, the weight of their responsibilities, the battles ahead, and the darkness of their world all faded away.

When they finally pulled apart, her breathing was uneven, her lips slightly swollen. She looked at him, her vulnerability laid bare, but for once, she didn't care.

"I'll follow you anywhere," she whispered, her voice barely audible but carrying a weight that made it feel like a vow.

He smiled, brushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face. "And me too."

"Now, let's get going. We're running late," he said, his tone light but firm, as he effortlessly swept her into a princess carry.

"Wait…!! Put me down! What are you doing, you dumb man?" she protested, her cheeks flushed with indignation. She squirmed in his grasp, but he held her firmly, his steps unbothered by her struggles.

Ignoring her protests, he raised his hand. With a low rumble, the spectral dragon Agheel descended from the clouds, its massive wings shrouded in ghostflame. The ground quaked as it landed, its hollow, fiery eyes locking onto them.

"Let's get going," he said as he leaped onto the dragon's back with Nyra still in his arms. "Stormveil Castle awaits—and once we've burned away Godrick's rabble, we'll finish what we started."

Nyra huffed, crossing her arms as they took to the skies. The icy wind whipped past them, but the heat of Agheel's ghostflame kept the chill at bay. The castle loomed closer with every beat of the dragon's wings, its towering spires cutting into the gray sky.

When they neared the outer gates, he signaled Agheel to descend. The dragon landed with a heavy thud, its ghostly flames licking the air. He set Nyra down, his movements deliberate as he surveyed the battlefield ahead.