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Chapter 1: Light Turned to Darkness

Patch. A nice island perfect for settling down for a family. It has that kind of world renown around the whole world of Remnant as being one of the most peaceful places on Remnant. And what is Remnant you may ask. To put it bluntly, it is a world consisting of four continents with only four kingdoms of civilization. Yes, it is indeed such a small population of intelligent life that consisted of humans and semi-animal beings called Faunus. This is a result of the hordes of Grimm that feast on civilization and wish to see it destroyed. The only thing that kept civilization alive were the legions of Huntsmen and Huntresses trained to ward them off.

But Remnant wasn't always like this, and in fact the name of the world is derived to an age long gone by. Many eons ago, it was once a world of vibrant society and magic. Humanity's influence stretched all across the globe all thanks to their worship to the gods of light and darkness, the creators of their world. They were the ones to give them the gift of magic. However, that age came to an end when they considered man to be a mistake. First, they took away the humans' capability for magic and the God of Darkness committed genocide of the entire population.

Yet, skip over a century or so and civilization was beginning anew with the inclusion of the Faunus race. Give or take an eon or two later, and the world of Remnant turned into what it is now, and their only saving grace being the magical mineral known as Dust. Yet, despite the leaps and bounds of technological advancement that these four kingdoms have made, it paled in comparison to the Age of the Gods. While humans may never be able to grasp the power of magic again, the gods still left it blowing through the skies of the world just waiting to be channeled.

Remnant's gods are not the only ones out there in reality of all things, and far from it. There are more worlds out there, all in the image of how the gods that created them wanted them to be. Gods no different than those from Remnant, yet war with each other with armies of their worshippers. They all live in one world however. A world where the power of magic itself creates storms in the sky that when channeled give even a mortal power to eliminate entire armies. A world not of bloody evolution, but of bloody and eternal war.

Back on the island of Patch, the winds of magic that blew briskly in Remnant suddenly turned into a gust as something called to them and they answered with their power. In a forest, lines of archaic magic craft etched into the grass, glowing in a mix of red and purple. Space tore itself apart into the a different dimension all together that completely defied the laws of mortal perception. Cries of otherworldly beasts came from the tear, making even Grimm upon the island shutter in fear at the feeling of wrongness that swept over the land. If one were to peer into the veil, their minds would be broken beyond repair when just glancing at the dimension of the Chaos Gods. No mortal man or other sentient race should be able to survive.

The one who came out was an exception to that. He was of tall stature possibly at 6'5" or more. From head to toe the man was covered in black armor that mended to his flesh like a new skin, and he had a golden face mask with green eyes that burned with wrath. Upon his head was a circlet of golden horns that brimmed with magic that attracted the winds of Remnant. A jagged curved sword was sheathed at his hip, and on his back was a shield almost as tall as him.

This was a being that shook even the realm of gods of his world. He was the son of the greatest hero of the elves, an immortal race of the Asur/Druchii/Asrai pantheon. Malekith the Witch King, tyrant to the Asur and supreme ruler of the Druchii. With sword talent gifted from his father, arcane arts studied with his mother, there is no equal to this legendary warrior that has lived through thousands upon thousands of years.

The Witch King let out an indignant grunt of pain has he collapsed onto one knee. Chaotic red lightning crackled off his currently smoking body while arcane runes etched onto his armor previously protected him from most of the damage. Travelling through the space of chaos was not Malekith's first time, and it was horrid and painful experience for the ancient lord. But Malekith endured as he always will, for nothing can compete with the Asuryan Flames that burned him. In that time surviving that tainted realm, he discovered many things that no eternity of archaic study and enlightenment shall ever wield. Some included a grasp on the concept of the Wind of Magic of Chaos, the use of his own magic as a shielding against the corruption, but the most alluring aspect of his time in the realm of Chaos was that it served as a nexus of sorts (or was it more of a rift) to other worlds.

More worlds to Malekith meant greater conquest. So what if he can't have Ulthuan that was his birthright when he can have a world or even worlds under his rule? Upon his admittedly painful return to his own world, a new ambition was born within the Witch King. It took quite some time, give or take a few decades, along with his mother to establish a proper and safer way to travel through the realm of Chaos. With the discovery of one's own magic as a protection, it came to the conclusion to use runes powered by a month's worth of siphoned Winds of Magic, which littered all across his armored body. They were enough for two trips, and Morathi had also given her son a magical anchor of sorts to lock in that world that he deemed fit for conquest. So when armies of Druchii marched it would be through an instant instead of a horrid survival in the Chaos realm. In simple terms for a man, a portal.

After a minute of the pain, Malekith gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. The burning pain was lingering, but a slight adjustment with the runes would fix that on his return. Besides, he endured far greater pain than this, and it was even more so than his first 'stroll' through Chaos. Malekith released a breath akin to the low howl of the chillwinds of the north. He momentarily stilled when he felt a familiar sensation course through his body. As a test, Malekith raised his left arm to his face and an orb of dark magic formed in his hands.

'How curious.' Thought the Witch King. 'It appears wherever I am, there are Winds of Magic here. However, these winds are a breeze compared to a compared to a blizzard. If there are gods here, why do they have so little influence on this world?'

Malekith dispelled the ball of darkness and made use of his sensory skills. One would relate it to sniffing the air, except the air in this case would be the Wind of Magic. It helped Malekith in his battles to identify mages who were siphoning the power and even identify what Lore they used. Sensing those who don't use magic may as well be blind to Malekith. So imagine his surprise when he was hit with the scent of magic so potent that it felt like something punched it into his senses.

There was only one thing in all creation that can have such potent magic, no matter how small. There was divine blood of gods very close by. Malekith did not recognize the divinity, but it was far from the murderous presence of Khaine. But any sort of divinity was highly sought after since it is the gods themselves the blow the Winds of Magic. Whatever it is, it was enough for the Witch King to investigate.

After burning down the anchoring insignia Morathi developed, Malekith made his way through the unknown land all the while taking in the scenery around him. The forest was about average, but even he would admit that it has been a long time since he had seen proper green forests instead of the cold tundra of Naggarond. How long has it been really to breath in air that wasn't laced with freezing temperatures? It these simple pleasures that reminded the small part of him that was still the honorable son of Aenarion of his homesickness of Ulthuan's land. He ruthlessly forced that down before he would come to regret it.

Malekith soon came upon a house in the middle of an open field. The night sky highlighted the light of the windows coming from inside. There in that home he felt the presence of the divine blood, specifically two in this case. Shadows hid away his armored body from prying eyes, leaving his own glowing orbs that spied on the occupants. Through the windows, Malekith saw a petite woman with silver eyes wearing a white hood playing with a blonde child. The woman herself was the source of the divine power, but on closer inspection he could sense it was dormant.

'A woman.' Malekith mused in thought. 'Quite troublesome if I wanted to recruit her. Not only do humans live so little, they can be surprisingly resilient. But that's only one.'

The woman disappeared for a moment and came back with a red bundle in her arms, the source of the second of the divine blood. A small hand reached out from the cloth, revealing it was a baby. It was quite a normal, yet warming sight of a mother caring for her child with eyes glinting in love. Yet again, it sparked something deep in Malekith reminding him vividly of days of old when he was but a boy talking with his father. The good days indeed, but they were behind them and the devious machinations of the Witch King soon took over as he locked on the frail little bundle.

'A newborn with the blood of the divine.' Malekith thought. 'That will do nicely instead of the adult. It may be human, but in the least I will have a worthy test subject for Mother's latest experiment to possibly fix that. Though it may be of light, I will drench and make it grow in the darkness.'

His mind made, Malekith walked out of the cover of the forest in the open and the humans were completely ignorant of his approach. The wood of the porch creaked in protest once his metal feet stomped towards the door. Malekith yet again channeled the Winds of Magic into his hands and then he thrusted his palm forward. Not only was the door blasted into splinters, but the dark magic used also snuffed the lights out as well. The cries of the baby gave away its location, as well as the exclaims from the occupants.

"Mom, what's happening?"

"Stay right here." Spoke the woman. "Take care of your sister."

So the woman plans to fight. How intriguing. Malekith entered into the hall of the home, and on the other side there stood the woman holding a sword in her right arm and what seemed to be a firearm those of the Empire of Man use. Those silver orbs hardened like steel, ready to kill whatever intruder that threatened her home. Too bad that it was Malekith.

"Who are you?!" Demanded the woman. "Are you with Salem?!"

"I have no idea of this 'Salem' you speak of." Malekith spoke, choosing to humor the woman. "And I won't give you my name for you won't live to tell anybody about it."

Malekith withdrew his sword, The Destroyer, a blade he forged himself. No amount of magic can withstand being cut by this blade, and it has soaked in the blood of may princes of the Asur in many battles. This woman was hardly worthy enough of the blade, but he wanted this done quickly. But as he took a step forward, the woman fired the gun with a loud bang. The Witch King's trained eyes can track the bullet that was shot, which was quite strange. Instead of being lead like the Empire of Man used, it was strangely solidified magic. It struck his shoulder with enough force to stagger him back, but there was no dent in the armor.

"Curious." Muttered Malekith.

He continued his stride towards the woman, deflecting the bullets the woman was firing at him. Seeing it useless, the woman resorted to the sword and charged the Witch King with impressive speed. However, Malekith easily blocked the opening swing and parried with his strength to make the woman falter. Surprisingly, she righted herself and flowed in the motion for a counterattack with a quick sweep for his side. Malekith easily maneuvered the blade in the right defensive stance, and cracks appeared on the opposing blade. He started to casually walk towards the signature of the baby that the woman was hiding, all the while thwarting whatever attacks she sent at him.

"Where is the child?!" Malekith demanded, parrying a thrust and punishing with his fist punching her jaw.

Spitting blood, the woman glared at the Witch King. "I won't let you get to her."

"Be it that way, fly." Malekith said.

Using an empty hand, Malekith grabbed the blade to anchor her in place of his reach and followed with an upward slash that cut deep into the woman from hip to shoulder. The woman let out an agonized shout as Malekith let her fall to the ground in her own pool of blood, and he made his way toward the source of the divine blood. Malekith tracked it down to a kitchen of sorts, and his green eyes pierced the shadows where he saw a little blonde girl in a corner holding the red bundle as close to her body.

"Give me the infant." Malekith's cold voice pierced through the room.

The blonde shivered in fright yet she held the baby closer to her. She had to protect from this monster. Her fears intensified as Malekith snarled in frustration. His boot snapped to the blonde's face with a crack. Blood dripped down the blonde's face, and several deep gashes littered her forehead and top left cheek. The baby in response started to wail. Malekith internally rolled his eyes in exasperation as even he knew that there was no way to calm down an infant of all things. It is actually a wonder Druchii parents do not kill their offspring from all the crying, much less being proper fucking parents.

Malekith leaned down and picked the infant up in one arm. From one small opening of the red bundle, a squishy face of a baby girl whimpered as silver eyes looked back at glowing green orbs. The infant must be only three months old as they were just tresses of black hair that looked to be tipped in blood. The Witch King mused that the Priestesses of Khain would rather like the girl's hair like that.

His potential prize found, Malekith made his way out of the house not even minding that he ruined a family. He made it eight paces passed the porch before the sound of rushing feet grabbed his attention. Malekith was surprised to find the woman from before racing towards him, her eyes filled with so much rage they were blinding with light.

Wait, light!?

"GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!"

Malekith was about to force off the woman yet again until her eyes produced a white light so brilliant that it encased the entire field. And that was when he felt it. Pain, but not some ordinary pain. Burning pain of the likes that he hasn't felt ever since the Asuryan Flames charred his flesh. There was so much pain that he did not even hear his own cry of agony.

He wanted this to stop. The pain has to stop. Stop the pain. Stop the pain. Stop the flames! Stop it! STOP IT!

"GRRAAGH!" Malekith swung his sword wildly in an attempt to somehow away with the white light that was burning his very soul. He felt his blade knock away something, but he continued on with all his might and thrusted his blade forward. The sound of steel sinking through flesh and bone followed by the light dying away. Green eyes crying blood looked to see The Destroyer impaled through the woman's heart. The woman somehow endured and her currently dim silver eyes looked to the bundle of joy and her arms stretched out in desperation to hold the infant.

"Ruby... my baby..." The woman murmured before she went limp on the blade.

Malekith kicked off the infant's mother from his blade and returned it to his hip. He glanced down to the bundle in his one arm, where the baby was for the first time widened her silver eyes in fear. She did not know what was happening, and yet she knew that her whole world was shattered apart.

"And consider this new world behind you." Malekith muttered as he walked into the cover of the forest towards the entrance back to his home.

If he had stayed moments longer in that field, Malekith would have come to met two men, a blonde with blue eyes and a black-haired one with red eyes. Instead, they were treated with the horrific sight of Summer Rose dead on the ground in a pool of her own blood, and the fact her own daughter was taken away.

(Naggarond)

Naggarond, the capital of the Druchii made from the once floating city that Malekith led his people to their icy shores away from Ulthuan. Towers of black lit with purple flames on top riddled the city of sins. But contrary to outsiders' belief, Naggarond was not infested with murder and treachery. That was Har Ganeth actually. The capital of Naggarond was in essence peaceful for it was a place where the highest-class of nobles of the Druchii lived with their own slaves for all their needs. Life for Druchii was so relaxed and pleasurable there was no need to shed blood, at least not as much as people believed. Most can be contributed to the fact that Naggarond was the very source of Malekith's rule, and such he deemed his capital was home only to the best of the best. No use in his own elite killing themselves when they have human, Asur, dwarves, and lizardmen to do that anyway.

In the central citadel that served as Malekith's home, there was a woman who stood in wait before a flat stone on the black marble floor carved with arcane runes for access into the realms of Chaos. She was exquisite beauty, roughly in her mid twenties, with hair braided down her back. Her pale-skinned body was exposed for all to see, and her digits were blackened as though stained in coal. In her hands was a black halberd that served as her magical staff. She is Morathi, once the second wife of Aenarion, now mother of Malekith and founder of the Lore of Dark Magic and considered one of the most powerful mages in the world.

A bored expression was on her pretty face as she waited for her son's return. No sooner than she thought of that did space tear itself apart in the hellish dimension that was Chaos. A shadow quickly walked through the portal revealing the Witch King himself, this time not a mangled mess like last time. He wasn't even smoking from the Hellfire that he was exposed, evidence that her arcane runes were indeed working. Though her thoughts screeched to a halt at the familiar sound an infant's babble and a red bundle in Malekith's left arm.

"Malekith," Morathi spoke, "why... do you have a baby?"

She was not mad. Just confused is all. But as she stretched out her senses, she nearly faulted at the signature of divine blood.

"Someone with potential." Malekith answered. "But more so a test subject for your new experiment."

Morathi grinned at the deviousness of her son. The experiment that he referred to was a new blood ritual. It was mainly for humans that have shown a special quality for even as short their lives are they have proven time and time again of their versatility. Such talent can not be wasted, so it came to Morathi to instead turn them into Druchii. Of course, the process was very much dangerous, and none of her slaves ever survived before being turned into pools of blood. She had the ritual finalized for one last experiment, and it just so happened that Malekith brought an infant of all things.

"Tis fortunate that I bring my work with me." Morathi said, approaching closer to examine the infant, and to find a whimpering babe with teary silver eyes. "What makes this one so special despite the divine blood?"

"The mother tried to stop me." Malekith explained. "Her eyes became a blinding beacon of light. It pained me. Pained me the same way the Flames of Asuryan did me."

Morathi blinked in surprise. "That type of power to compare to that has to be very potent divinity. Wouldn't that be counterproductive?"

"Not if that light turns to darkness." Malekith quipped.

Morathi hummed in agreement and escorted her son out of the chamber to another part of the citadel. Mostly, the huge, dark palace of the Witch King was mostly vacant with a few guards of Naggarond that were utterly loyal to the Witch King. They came to a grand hall where a chandelier of dark crystals tipped with white flames hanged on ceiling. Up a flight of stairs upon a large chariot led to a platform where stood Morathi's personal Cauldron of Blood. Malekith took a moment to admire the statue of his patron god, Khaine the lord of murder and war, with the eyes glowing an ominous purple. Right at his feet was the Cauldron big enough to stuff gallons of blood of sacrificial slaves. But two details caught Malekith off. The blood, which was assuredly blood by the smell of it, was a pitch black, and facing Khaine was an insignia of Chaos.

Malekith did not know how to feel about this use of Chaos. On one side, he still had strong animosity against the bringers of the Endtimes as his father passed on to him. On the other hand, this wasn't the first time they dealt with the forces of Chaos as such, but never in this way to include it in a ritual of Khaine.

"Don't be so troubled, Malekith." Morathi said as though reading her son's thoughts. "Dark magic alone won't give us the results we desire. To turn a soul and body into a completely different existence requires breaking the natural order of the gods themselves. Chaos magic will do the change while dark magic will keep it in control."

"How many times have you used this process?" Malekith inquired.

"Too many." Morathi said. "My slaves came out in such hideous monstrosities to make a Skaven quiver. Later experiments ended with them in a pile of flesh and eyes. By far, this is perfected, but there is still a chance this won't work."

"So be it then." Malekith said. "Khaine himself will see this one's worth."

"Then let us begin." Morathi announced, holding out her hand. "For this to start, I need your blood for this."

Malekith raised a brow behind his face plate. "My blood?"

"You are Khaine's champion, my son." Morathi explained. "If the god of murder is to see this child's worth, then you must pay tribute to call him here. I would have done it if my blood wasn't already indebted to daemons."

Malekith gave a grunt and held out his right arm. A whisper of the archaic language from Morathi shifted the metal of his hand back, revealing raw muscle instead of skin. She drew a knife that carved on the muscle to draw a steady stream of blood, but the Witch King did not falter in the pain. As the blood of Malekith entered the cauldron, the pitch black gained a dark purple glow to it, and the eyes of the statue seemed fixated with a new presence.

Morathi smiled. "Well then? Throw her in the cauldron."

Malekith had no intention to hesitate, but yet a small part of him screamed to ensure the child's safety in whatever will happen. It was only a half-second of hesitance before the Witch King let the bundle sink into the blood. There was not even a wail before the blood consumed the infant. That small part again that cried for the infant's safety prayed for her well-being to make it out.

Morathi did not waste a step and channeled her vast control of magic outward. The iron walls of the palace creaked and shook under the pressure of the magic that she was summoning while at the same time she vocally chanted to Khaine. Her right hand snapped out to the Chaos insignia, and it ignited in hellfire. Red magic zapped into the black pool like red lightning, giving the black blood a swirling mix of purple and red that was draining to the center.

Dark and Chaos magic clashed and danced simultaneously. There was no order, only senseless chaos of the energies lashing out wildly. Malekith and Morathi felt a pressure push on their shoulders that forced them to submit. Their eyes went to the statue of Khaine glowing purple and the eyes seemed to have gained a yellow fire to them staring into the cauldron. But facing Khaine himself, the Chaos magic condensed around the insignia until it created a construct of a black helm with blood red eyes filled with bloodlust staring into the cauldron as well.

(Unknown)

The ancient Eldar that was the god of murder would have been annoyed for being summoned for some mundane reason when there is no bloodshed. Instead, curiosity took him as he looked to the child that was under his gaze. To him, the infant was in a void, her soul a flickering flame of white so holy it disgusted Khaine, but it intrigued him that this was light of divine origin that he did not know. Even as obscure as the Chaos gods himself, and his champion wished this infant to be of Druchii to serve him.

If that is what Malekith wishes, Khaine may as well play along. The future was always obscure even to gods. The more Khaine thought on it, the more it filled him with glee to turn such an innocent new babe into a dark soul bent on murder and slaughter. The divine blood itself may be out of his reach, but the soul however was not. Turn it black enough like the Druchii Malekith wanted the infant to become and the power shall follow.

As his hand reached out to the whimpering infant drowning in the black blood that surrounded her, another presence made itself known. Blood red eyes filled with bloodlust that rivaled Khaine himself appeared on the infant's other side. Khaine's murderous eyes of yellow glared at the bloodlusting eyes of Khorne. Gods of war sneered at each other as they both had an interest in the child.

Yet as gods of war they also came to some sort of agreement. What they came up with filled the gods with such sadistic glee their grin would have shown their demonic teeth. Yes, this child will definitely be interesting to them to watch in the future. A holder of unknown divine blood attracting the world's worst gods that no person should never meet in their sanity, and with such an innocent soul of light it was irresistible to corrupt. For where there is light, there will always be darkness.

For the first time in history, Eldar and Chaos gave their blessings to one being. Purple and black energy surrounded the baby in a cocoon, muffling her cries. The soul that they saw no longer burned with the white light that irked them. Khaine's influence gave the center of the soul turned a purple visage that was almost black with a grey center while Khorne's blessing surrounded it in a ring of crimson. Such petty things as humanity were casted off as the magics of the cauldron took its hold upon the infant to mold her into something greater.

They will have to look at this one very carefully. Even as their work has been done, the ultimate change of the soul will fall to the owner herself. There may be a chance where light may takeover, but the work has been done nonetheless to push her in the right direction. As Khaine and Khorne left, they were filled with gleeful satisfaction when the baby's cries turned into giggles.

(Back with Malekith)

Malekith and Morathi were struggling to stand as the citadel of Naggarond was shaking from the extreme magics produced by the presence of two gods fueling the ritual. Purple and red lightning lashed out at all of the walls, bringing down iron walls, and cracking the floor. Finally, all the magic focused within the cauldron before imploding in a massive release of energy that blew Morathi and Malekith back, the former anchoring himself down with his blade. Steam and smoke rose from the now empty cauldron since all the blood was dried up from the process. There was too much magic and smoke to see what lay in the cauldron, and Malekith felt something sink in his chest.

'Did she not survive?' Malekith thought, or rather the son of Aenarion instead of the Witch King.

The cry of the infant however casted away those thoughts and Malekith stepped forward to look into the cauldron. The smoke cleared to reveal the infant now in a black bundle currently wiggling around, and her head fully revealed. Malekith reached down to pick the infant and hold her in his left arm to take a closer examination. The skin of the infant was now an almost deathly pale shade and her ears were pointed exactly like a Druchii. Her hair took on a darker shade while the red tips were much more defined. The most astonishing feature were the eyes that no longer held that gleaming silver to them. Instead, they were heterochromic with the left eye being red like blood with a slit pupil and the right with an iris of dark purple surrounding a pitch black pupil.

When those strange eyes met Malekith, he was met not with the look of fear but one of... adoration or joy he assumed. A small smile made its way on the infant's face and small hands reached out to try and touch his face. Malekith let out an exasperated grunt at this turn of events, which in turn made the infant start to giggle. How does an infant giggle in the presence of the Witch King?

"I am amazed it worked." Noted Morathi as she approached the child with a smile on her face at her latest work. "She is absolutely perfect. Full Druchii, and not a speck of pathetic human upon her. And now we have a new responsibility."

"What?" Malekith inquired with a dangerous edge.

The shit-eating grin that he received did not do him any favors. He now just realized that his mother had somehow tricked yet again into some absurdity. It added to the fact that Morathi was currently playing with the infant with her finger, the baby laughing at the ministrations.

"I may have left a small detail about the ritual." Morathi said, and every word threatened to pop Malekith's vein. "The blood that you offered not only called forth Khaine, but also in a sense that she's not only a Druchii but technically your new daughter."

"..." The silence was palpable if it weren't for the infant's giggles. "It is times like this... that I regret ever leaving you alive."

"You were the one to ask for this." Morathi retorted smugly. "We both know that Khaine chose the little one for a reason, and I can see great things for her in the future. And I wouldn't mind being a grandmother to this little one."

Malekith chose to direct a venomous glare to the infant in his arms, but that only made her giggle more. Behind his face plate, his brows were twitching erratically in annoyance. But he had to admit himself that whatever that Khaine saw in this infant was worth raising her for the coming future. And upon his title as the Witch King, Malekith will make sure the child becomes a force to be reckon with.

"I see you are in agreement." Morathi said. "Now we just need a name for our new addition to the family."

Malekith stared at the child intently as one came to his head. "She will be named..."

Huge fucking cliffhanger because I am welcoming suggestions for names, specifically any that sound like she is going to murder you while laughing the entire time. This new fanfic was really on my mind ever since I started playing Total War: Warhammer II and it really hooked me into the franchise. And from that game, the Druchii are my favorite faction to play, and Malekith is my favorite lord both as a unit and a character. I really hope this first chapter lives up to the hype, but don't expect as many updates as you would think.

A moment of warning for this story is Rated M on some very heavy sexual and dark themes, gore, and torture as is with the Druchii with also major character deaths from both the Warhammer and the RWBY verse. Remember that Ruby is a chaotic villain, and she is going to fuck shit up. (Because I am a sadistic asshole.) Such is the legend of the Witch Princess of Chaos.

Ruby will has a yuri harem of Druchii followers with a single male pairing.

Up next is Chapter 2: Daddy's Murder Girl

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