Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

WARNINGS: Non-Con to Dub-Con. Creepy Behaviour. Get called a whore a lot. It’s Lautrec, what do u expect.

After many brutal and rather torturous hours of slaying enemies, dying and dying again. You’d think that Firelink Shrine would ease all of your problems with its familiarity and peace and many of the friendly individuals you have encountered so far. But not this time.

———

The crunch of your bloody, steel armour under dead twigs and bones of those hollows near the shrine are the only thing you hear. You slightly shake your legs to get rid of the bones as you step onto the decaying stone stairs down to Firelink.

muscles aching in protest with every step and every movement you make feels like fire burning your insides. You groan in pain as you finally make it to the bonfire in the centre and practically let yourself fall on the ground next to it with a satisfied yet annoyed sigh.

Those damn gargoyles put up one hell of a fight, it was bad enough already with one but when the second one showed up, it was nearly impossible as they kept breathing fire, not allowing you to get close to strike them with your sword. You ran out of estus halfway through the battle.

Thank Gwyn that Solarie was there to help you, you don’t know what you would have done without his help. He even gave you an adorable medal with the engraving of a sun, very similar to the one emblazoned upon his chest as a reward for as he puts it, ‘jolly cooperation’

“Ah, I know that feeling.”

Oh right, he’s here.

The familiar and depressing voice of the crest-fallen warrior rang out near you. It’s not that he’s not a welcome face, it’s just that his pessimism is really bleeding into you. It’s draining sometimes hearing constant negativity.

“Not to worry, just take a seat and soon you’ll be just like me.” He ends his sentence with a weak and strained laugh.

‘Yeah, well you didn’t ring the bell..’ you say in your head, not wanting to possibly pick a fight as you are too exhausted.

He lets out a small, ‘ahh’ before speaking again.

“Someone rang the bell, it was you wasn’t it? Well, don't stop now. One more to go, but it’s going to be suicide.” Yet again he ends his sentence with a weak laugh. People here always need to laugh after saying anything for some reason.

You merely nod your head, not feeling like talking to him. You sit for a while, just staring at the flames of the welcoming bonfire as your muscles ease their aching.

There’s a sudden glint of brilliant gold reflecting off the sun in your peripheral vision and you jump up, cracking a few joints in the process. You’ve been very jumpy about practically everything now due to the countless enemies you face.

You slowly creep around to the descending stairs to the lower part of the shrine, where the fire keeper is caged. You do feel rather bad for the poor fire keeper, being locked in a cell to fuel a fire for who knows how long.

You unseathe your trusty sword as you peek around the corner and spot the sight of a strange golden knight, sitting across to the fire keeper.

Oh, you almost forgot about him. You had rescued him from a hidden cell before your fight with the gargoyles, he said he’d give you a reward ‘only later.’

Mentally criticising yourself for being too paranoid of everything you put your sword away, intending on seeming friendly as you approach him.

Even as he is sitting and slouched slightly he is clearly still taller than you, way taller. You feel the slightest pang of fear to the mostly unknown man but you swallow it down just as he begins to speak.

“Ahh, hello there.” His voice makes you cringe a little, it sounds a lot like sandpaper and ‘no good’ etched into a voice. “I have your reward. Please, accept it.” He reaches out his golden hand to you, with something glittering in his palm.

It’s another sunlight medal. It practically blends into his golden armour, making you have to double take to actually see it. You hesitate for just a moment as he thrusts his hand further to you, indicating for you to take it.

Reaching out, you take the medal in his hands. The feeling of his cold armour contrasting against your warm hands sends a shiver of goosebumps onto your arm. You briefly make an observation of just how big his hands are compared to yours.

He chuckles, an unnerving and almost scheming sound. It's like he knows that his general presence makes you nervous and he’s revelling in it, “I’m grateful to you for freeing me..Keh heh heh heh.”

‘Maybe I should have left him there..’ you think to yourself but yet again you can feel your more empathetic side telling your mind to give him a chance and never to judge based on looks and that you're being unreasonable. Just as you turn around to leave you hear him speak up again.

“Now hold on,” he says as he shifts around in his seating position, his armour clanking lightly against itself, “it’s rude to not tell me your name…” his voice sounds like hissing snakes to your ears. You're not really sure you should give him your name.

Your heart pangs again as you feel the tiny thread of guilt of being considered rude, you were always raised to be kind and welcoming. But here in Lordran, kindness will be the death of you. You let out a hefty sigh as you turn around to face him again.

“It’s (name)” you say, not sounding particularly interested.

“(Name)….” He tests your name out on his tongue. Hearing your name coming from him feels almost like he’s threatening you by just speaking. “A lovely name…keh heh..”

A blush erupts onto your face at the compliment and you quickly try to hide it by pulling your hood up. All he said was that your name was ‘lovely’ . Why are you blushing so much? Have you been that deprived of affection for so long that any compliments make you a mess? Surely you’re just overreacting and it was meant to be a friendly statement when meeting a potential new friend.

“Well..uh..” you struggle to remember his name but you know it starts with L, “L..Lauu…” you scrunch your eyes as you think hard, surely his name was something along those lines. Laurence maybe? That doesn’t sound right. Your thoughts are interrupted by his voice cutting through the awkward silence.

“Did my saviour forget my name?” He asks and you can practically hear his smirk behind that strange, golden holed helmet. It reminds you much of a cheese grater.

You grimace at him, clearly embarrassed of being so easily called out and him nearly laughing at you.

“I am Knight Lautrec, as I’ve told you,” He chuckles condescendingly, “I am truly grateful to you and it would be rude of me not to reward you further.” He stands up, his golden armour clicking and shifting around as he does.

You nearly jump out of your skin as he stands up as he practically towers over you. If he were to attack you right now, you would barely be able to do anything and how do you know he’s not dangerous? Like that bald guy that screwed you over in the catacombs and-

“Hellooo??” His voice suddenly pierces through your panicking and irrational mind.

“Hmm? Oh, uh my apologies. My mind…. just blanked out,” you feel a blush of embarrassment as you blatantly admit to not listening to him while he presumably was talking to you about something. Or did you look weird while zoning out? By Gwyn that would be embarrassing.

Clearing your throat you speak, “No, no it’s fine really I don’t wish to be greedy.” You reject his offer, waving your hand slightly. “You‘ve given me enough.” You hope he accepts your rejection but the glimmer of hope falls flat as he speaks.

“It’s not being greedy, a lousy medal does not own up to your generous actions earlier.” It almost sounds like he’s trying to butter you up to accept what he wants to offer you, too bad flattery doesn’t get anyone very far in Lordran as you stand your ground. “In-fact, I’m the one being greedy by not offering something better.”

He circles around you, checking you out but doing no effort to hide it. The fact you can’t see his eyes or any semblance of a face through the many holes on his helmet makes you uneasy. He can see all of you, such as your face and you can’t see anything but what he wears.

“I’m sure you’d appreciate what I offer, it will be… pleasurable for both of us.” You feel his cold, steel hands brush against you as he has gotten closer without you even noticing. How does a man with shiny golden armour do anything without being noticed?

“Really, it’s perfectly fine, Lautrec. I appreciate the medal and that’s all I need.” You keep up with rejecting him, maybe he’ll tire and eventually accept the rejection.

Taking a few awkward steps you start to walk up the small staircase to the centre point of Firelink, the bonfire itself.

A golden gauntlet roughly snatches your wrist and nearly pulls your arm out of its socket as you’re flipped around and slammed into the gleaming chest of Lautrec. His bone crushing grip makes
you whine in pain.

Instinctively reaching for your sword sheathed on your hip, Lautrec is faster than you and grabs it himself taking it out of its sheath making sure to keep it away from your grip. “Ah, ah.” He tuts, “you won’t be needing this.” Moments later your trusty blade is casually thrown off of Firelink, down into blight-towns swamp.

Feeling his hands reach down to attempt to cup your asscheeks, shocks out of your stunned state as you begin to writhe and wriggle in his grip.

“Let go of me!” You screech, hoping someone in Firelink would hear you and come running to help. But no one came. Who would? The fire keeper trapped behind bars? The crestfallen warrior? doubt it.

“Now, why would I do that?” He practically purrs as he keeps his iron grip on you and begins to apply his weight, causing your knees to buckle and shake under the immense pressure. If you get pinned under him, it would be nearly impossible to get out and that sends a wave of panic through you.

Your legs shake as you try your best to keep yourself up and not collapse under his weight. Continuing your mostly fruitless struggles while doing so, however, only serves to further exhaust your body. “You bloody freak! I’ll rip your head off!”

Lautrec only chuckles, the sound now truly registering in your head as a sly snake hiss, “That’s a hurtful thing for a lady like you to say.” He tuts before continuing, “someone will have to teach you proper manners… keh heh heh.”

Sweat trickles down your forehead as the exhaustion of struggling in rather heavy armour and being under the blazing sun starts to take its toll. It doesn’t help that you're being held into the chest of some golden freak that you shouldn’t have rescued.

An idea pops into your head, maybe just maybe… you don’t like the idea but it’s worth a shot.

“If you wanted to, you know,” you pause for dramatic effect, “bed me. You could have just asked.” A massive blush of mostly embarrassment erupts on your helmet-less face. Tricking Lautrec into thinking you're interested then running off or better yet, stabbing him, the plan comes into effect.

“Hmm? Where did this come from?” If you could see his face you're sure you’d see a sly smirk, “just a moment ago you called me a freak and now you're submitting?” He suddenly uses his other hand and grasps the back of your head and leans forward, his head right next to your ear as his whisper sends shivers through your body. “I know what you’re trying to do, love. And that won’t work on me.”

Your heart drops at how quickly he caught on, but on second thought it was a stupid plan to begin with. Suddenly, a spark of familiar and unwelcome feeling shoots to your crotch as his whisper and sly, scheming voice resonate in your mind. What? No this can’t be! This weirdo can’t be turning you on by just whispering in your ear. You must have let out an audible groan or made a certain movement as Lautrec whispers again.

“Oh? Did you like that?” He slyly chuckles as he continues to whisper into your ear, deliberately getting so close that his helmet brushed against the shell of your ear.

You scoff and speak, “I! I…” you hesitate, you actually hesitate. You really couldn’t deny the pleasurable heat growing in your crotch and starting to spread across your body but again you don’t want to admit it. “No!” It takes a few moments to finally spit out the hardly veiled lie.

His knee suddenly pushes between your legs and rubs your clothed pussy, the only part that isn’t armoured and covered only by leather. He keeps himself pressed against you, and whispers into your ear with his husky voice once more. “You may not like it but…” he pushes his knee in a bit more, pressing on your clit and causing you to let out an involuntary moan, “your body sure does.”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself quiet, not wanting to risk possibly moaning while trying to bark a retort. But damn, does his knee feel good…how good can he be with his cock or hands? Your body shivers involuntarily at the thought, betraying your turning mind.

“Hmmm? No quips? Come on…speak dear.” He purrs into your ear, sending another shiver of tingles down your back. “I want to hear you, especially when I make you scream my name.”

“Y-you're.…sick..” is all you could manage without nearly mewling with delight and want. You’ve forgotten all about struggling now and guiltily, allow yourself to enjoy his actions. Nearly bucking your hips to try and get more pleasure as his knee quickly wasn’t doing enough anymore. “Should of le-left you to….mmmh… rot..” a small moan escapes.

You try your best to spit out more insults but your mind begins to blank out, slowly but surely being clouded by your want and lust with a small tinge of guilt for liking this so much. So you remain quiet, biting lightly onto your bottom lip to silence any needy moans or mewls.

He pushes more of his weight onto you and your knees finally give up and collapse under his weight, sending both of you to the ground with you landing on your back, letting out an ‘oopf’ as you hit the ground. Now he has you exactly where he wants you, pinned underneath him.

He cruelly moves his knee away from where you need him most as he reaches behind him. Your hands are now freed from being held captive by his own but… you don’t try to escape or move, as if you're transfixed and can only watch as he fumbles with something behind his back.

There’s a small clicking sound as Lautrecs chestpiece slacks and falls off, tumbling onto the grass beside you. His body now visible to you, the only remaining pieces of armour being his gauntlets, helmet and most of his leggings.

His skin is surprisingly pale and he’s a bit skinnier than you expected due to his strength. Although, looking closer you could see some muscle definition and old scars littering his chest. He reaches down and pushes down on his loincloth, taking out his hardening cock.

You can’t help but gawk at the sight. He is above-average in size as he hardens to his full length and pulls back his foreskin, showing his light pink tip already oozing pre-cum and twitching slightly in excitement.

You don’t get much time to continue staring as he suddenly grabs you, lifting you up slightly and greedily fumbling with the straps of your armour intent on taking them off as fast as possible and yet again you don’t struggle.

He starts with the straps of your chest piece, nearly ripping them off in his haste and greed. You feel a weight lift off of you as the chest piece slackens and is taken off by Lautrec. The only thing blocking his view from your bare chest is your undergarments you always had on underneath your armour.

You hear him grumble in annoyance at the small hindrance. Before reaching down and grasping a handful of your thin undergarment firmly in his fist and pulling back, tearing it off in one motion.

Your breasts are now exposed fully to his hungry gaze as your nipples harden and pebble due to the cold breeze and your own arousal. You should be trying to scratch and kick at him, or cover your breasts with your hands but it never occurs for you to do so.

His hands reach down and roughly take each breast in his hand, kneading and fondling them.

Sparks of pleasure from your sensitive breasts shoot through you and make you let out small moans and gasps of pleasure. Your brain forgetting you should be angry at Lautrec and not giving him any signs you're enjoying this and now only
thinking of deriving more pleasure from his touch.

“Not as large as others I’ve seen.” Lautrec comments on the size of your breasts as he lightly squeezes your nipples between his thumb and index, causing you to squirm. “Quite sensitive aren’t you?”

He’s right, and that makes you annoyed. Your body is very sensitive, hypersensitive even, especially in more intimate areas and small touches send sparks of arousal and pleasure through you. It doesn’t help that his gauntlets are cold, making you jump slightly at their cold bite against your warm skin.

You turn your blushing face away from him, confirming his little question.

“Good.” His voice is laced with dark intention as he fondles your breasts more roughly, taking more care to focus on your nipples.

Pleasure and slight pain from his roughness shoot through you as you feel yourself become more aroused, becoming more wet and needy in your lower regions.

Getting annoyed with his teasing and foreplay as your body craves more and more. Dignity be damned, you need this as much as you need air. You could simply ruminate on your actions later, but later is not here and this is now and you needed him, now. “Enough with the teasing. Just get on with it and fuck me.”

He pauses for a moment before he chuckles and takes his hands away from your breasts and starts to make quick work of the remaining pieces of armour on your person. All that remains is your panties which are quickly torn off.

He roughly grips onto your thighs and spreads your legs apart, your glistening pussy out on display for his gaze. He moves one of his hands to spread your folds apart, “What a strange way of showing your hate for someone, isn’t it?” Lautrec says, mocking how wet you are.

“I still fucking hate you.” You snap at him, not liking him but just wanting what he can give.

His cold armoured hand slides over your pussy and plays with your clit, rubbing it slowly. Taunting you and your greedy wants.

You shamelessly arch your back. Pleasure spreads through your needy body as he inserts his fingers, causing you to let out a moan, and slowly pumps them in and out, curling them to hit a sweet spot inside you.

“Fuck…” you breathily moan out as you feel his fingers pick up their speed and intensity, quivering every time they curl up or reach deeper.

A knot begins to form on your lower stomach, a familiar feeling you’ve felt before when pleasuring yourself. “K-Keep going..” you lightly beg him, needing the release more than anything.

He inserts another finger and increases his pace even more while using his other hand's thumb to service your aching clit. Your hips buck into his hands for more as the knot in your stomach tightens further.

“Oh gods!” The orgasm is brain-melting as you yell out. Your entire body racked in mind numbing pleasure as goosebumps litter your sweaty skin. Lautrec slows his pace down as your juices coat his fingers and a bit of his arm.

Hands clutching at the grass beneath you from the orgasm as you breathe heavily, slowly coming down from your high and feeling embarrassment settling in.

Lautrec takes out his now soaked fingers, inspecting them for a few moments, “so, you can only handle three.” He slyly remarks before bringing his fingers underneath his helmet. You wonder what he’s doing for a few moments before he takes his fingers out from his helmet now only covered in spit. He licked his soaked fingers clean.

He makes quite the show of it, aiming to humiliate you further. “You enjoy being fucked like a cheap whore do you?” He reaches down and takes his cock into his hands, rubbing its head against your lubricated folds. “Go ahead and deny it all you want.”

The head of his cock begins to push into you, causing you to squirm in embarrassment, want and slight pain. The stretch wasn’t too painful, only little stings of pain here and there but most of it was mind-numbing pleasure. The feeling of him inside you was surprisingly pleasant, feeling nicely stuffed and soon to be completely satisfied.

His length pushes all the way in and you subconsciously relax more of your muscles to let him in easier. By now, your mind is reeling for more as your eyes reflect sheer lust and want as sweat trickles down your body from your previous orgasm.

“It won’t change the fact I have you underneath me, wanting more.” Lautrec finishes his sentence as he holds himself cruelly still inside you. He knows how well you want him to start fucking you and revells in how much power he feels. Yet again, he doesn’t want to keep himself waiting.

Without warning he begins to thrust in and out of you, clearly more in tune with his own needs. With every thrust you let out a moan of delight as he hits the right spots inside you and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him a little closer.

His hands plant themselves beside your head as he steadies himself to increase his pace and depth. Sweat begins to form on his chest as he keeps his speed. His hands move to grip harshly onto your thighs, digging into them and spreading them apart even more. You were sure that would leave some marks.

“Ah, Fuck! La-Lautrec,” you moan out his name as he continues his relentless pounding. Drool begins to dribble down your chin as you feel another orgasm quickly approaching.

“Sh-Shit! I’m going to-“ your words are cut short by your own cry of bliss as your velvety walls clench around his cock and you reach your peak once more. Racks of pleasure shoot through your body as he keeps fucking you, a lewd squealch each time he thrusted.

You feel your brain beginning to go fuzzy as he adjusts himself to hold onto you and pound faster and get deeper, hitting a certain spot in you.

“Th-there right there!” Your legs keep firmly wrapped around him. You’re practically screaming his name and begging for more with every thrust, fueling Lautrecs power trip.

“Well.. look at you,” he moves his hand to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “All ruined and screaming for me.” His thrusts begin to become sloppy as he breathes heavily, “In your proper place, a whore beneath me.”

By now, your mind has nearly melted with lust and pleasure as all you can think about is his cock pumping in and out of you. Your words coming out only as incoherent stupid babbling as drool continues to dribble down your chin. Your skin, flush and red glistening with sweat and small bruises of Lautrecs fingertips. Tears brim your eyes from overstimulation.

Gods, it was pure bliss. After all of the deaths and fights you’ve had, you never knew being fucked like a whore by a man you hated just minutes ago was all you needed.

His sloppy thrusts become more spaced out as with a final grunt he buries himself to the hilt finally emptying his sperm-heavy balls into you. The feeling of his warm seed invading your womb was incredible as your greedy walls practically milk him.

You both simply stay still for a minute, breathing heavily and regaining your bearings from the intense coupling.

Your mind slowly comes back to you and so do your natural senses. Did you really just let him fuck and cum inside you? Yes, yes you did.

Lautrec removes his now flaccid cock from your abused pussy, sliding out easily due to the combined fluids of both him and you.

You groan as you prop yourself up with your arms, face flushed with red from humiliation of letting him do this and enjoying it so much. You can’t really help yourself but hope for a next time as you feel his cum leak out of you.

“Did you have your fun?” You scoff out, still trying as if you hate him. You still do, but much less now.

He chuckles as he adjusts his undergarments, putting his cock back in and reaching for his disregarded chest piece and a few pieces of his leggings. “Hmm, very much so.. Keh heh.” He finishes putting on the rest of his golden armour.

Your legs buckle as you attempt to stand but don’t get very far. Falling back onto your ass just moments after trying. “Bastard..” you mumble out as you reach for your armour pieces. If you can’t get up, then it’s better to just get dressed and not be naked, and find a spot to rest until you can.

Lautrec doesn’t seem at all encumbered in any way, no shaking or anything as if he didn’t just cum into you. It makes you feel utterly humiliated and oddly dominated as he seems perfectly fine whereas you can’t even stand up.

“I’ll be off now. I have pressing matters to attend to.” He suddenly steps closer to you and grabs your chin again, pulling you close to him as he whispers into your ear, “if you want to be treated like the whore you are again.” His thumb slides gently over your cheek, “just come find me, I’ll be delighted to assist you.” His tone is laced with amusement.

You don’t get time to spit out an insult at him as he turns and begins to take his leave. Disappearing from your sight in just mere moments, off to do whatever he is supposed to be doing.

Your eyes flutter with exhaustion as you get on the last pieces of your armour and rest your body against a crumbled wall of Firelink shrine. You're far beyond exhausted. You don’t really like to sleep in armour but you don’t have any non-ripped underclothes to dress down into.

But eventually, your eyes flutter and shut as exhaustion finally takes you to sleep. Your last thought of Lautrec, and when you should seek him out again.

Chapter Text

WARNING: Implied non-con/dub-con. Pontiff is a fucking asshole. Spanking, etc.
(No smut in this chapter surprisingly, but it’s close to it ig)

Your heavy breath and pounding footsteps echo in your ears, over your rapidly beating heartbeat. The gigantic canid-like creature chasing you across the large bridge leading to Irithyll.

The massive creature was clearly too much for you to take on just now, perhaps later you could. But now all you focused on was getting across the bridge and finding a place to hide from the beast.

It snaps its horribly toothed jaw, attempting to bite down on you but just missing by a hair. You let out a shriek of fear, you’ve always been rather cowardly and more meek than what a knight should be. Always yelping or tearing up from the slightest hit or just being in a dark place for too long.

Tears brim your eyes from fear and adrenaline as you continue your mad dash across the bridge, nearly slipping a few times.

The creature makes one attempt to dash at you with all its power just as you cross a strange, nearly-invisible barrier, one that reminds you of the strange fog walls that would appear whenever you fought a particularly strong enemy. Instead of its jaws baring down onto you, it slams into the barrier with a loud ‘donk!’ And the monster reels back in pain.

You stand there, shocked and confused. Why can’t it cross over here? But you let out a sigh of relief a few moments afterward. You shouldn’t think about it too hard, all that matters is that it can’t get to you.

You stare for just a moment longer, staring into its beastly yet almost human eyes. Shaking your head, you turn around and begin to make your way through Irithyll after lighting the bonfire next to the fountain. Fighting off many enemies that you’ve never seen before.

Fighting them is a loose term, more like fighting a few but running past the majority of them while covering your head with your shield.

Many of the enemies towered over you with their lanky bodies and strange proportions, some of them even wielding a strange burning iron causing you to get singed a bit when one thrusted it at you in your attempt to scurry away.

Surprisingly, running away is an effective method of dodging enemies as you’ve found yourself at a new bonfire, which you are very lucky to find completely by chance as you took a certain turn and up some stairs.

With your estus flasks all filled back up and any scratches or burns now all healed from the strange effects of resting by a bonfire. You feel ready to finally set back out.

You begin again and navigate the confusing and occasionally tight areas of Irithyll which are packed with enemies. Until you come across a large, imposing door.

Your instincts tell you this is most likely the entrance to some very strong enemy and that those strange fog walls will block you from leaving once you enter. You let out a frustrated huff, you really don’t feel like dying over and over again to the same thing until eventually you emerge victorious.

But yet again, you know that you probably need to defeat whoever or whatever is beyond the door to gain access to more items and locations you’ll need to get or eventually traverse too.

Taking a deep breath and shaking off any apprehension, you begin to push open the large door. It takes more strength then you're used too for simply opening a door, why does everything have to be so big?

The doors open with a loud, aged creak and you step inside, immediately looking behind you to see the mysterious fog wall appearing. Blocking you from leaving and only allowing you to enter should you die. Great, this was going to be a fight.

You turn your attention back to the area before you.

Many long chairs line the once polished grounds now covered in dirt. A red, tattered carpet lines the ground leading up to the centre of the large room and spreading off into four sections. And at the end of the carpet, in front of an intricately designed archway with statues staring down. Was a tall, lanky figure.

It stood so still that you nearly glazed over it in the inspection of the decaying place of worship. But even when you noticed it, you simply thought it was a statue placed oddly in the middle of the room.

You take a few tentative steps forward with your weapon firmly in your hands, preparing to fight whatever is in here. You look up and down, expecting to see some giant beast fall down from the ceiling somewhere or something to come running at you.

When nothing happens, you stop in confusion but it quickly turns to surprise and fear as the ‘statue’ standing in the middle of the room suddenly lights up. Two massive blades, one coated in a bright flame while the other boasting a strange purple glow held in its hands as it begins to slowly advance to you.

So this is what you had to fight, this strange humanoid. You let out a shaky breath as the familiar fear of a fight grips your fragile heart but you know there’s no backing out of this.

The figure suddenly lunges and you let out a shriek of fear as you instinctively cover your head with your shield. Yet, something compels you to move your shield up and push the blazing orange sword away.

A loud clang rings out as you successfully parry the attack and cause the lanky creature to stumble, giving you an opportunity to sink your blade into its stomach and rip it back out.

You take the small time the creature needs to recover to move to a wider spot and allow more space to manoeuvre around.

As it turns to face you again, you notice it looks like a strange pontiff. You’ve never exactly seen much clergy other than the deacons and their pope but you're sure this isn’t how a regular man of the church looks like. Especially with the odd branch-like crown and mask.

The Pontiff rushes you again, striking at you with both of his swords in a rushed combo as you barely roll out of the way of each attack in time. As you attempt to roll away to get some space between you and him to come up with a plan for attack. Your attempt is foiled as you feel a sword slice at you, hitting your shoulder.

You stumble and let out a hiss of pain. You don’t get much time to do anything as the Pontiff begins to attack again, not giving you much windows to retaliate or back up to drink an estus flask.

You dodge around most of his attacks, occasionally getting hit by one. It’s almost like some sick dance as you begin to memorise how he moves and attacks and learn to dodge better and predict what he’ll do.

Even if you were a cowardly knight, you made up for your cowardice with your memory and reflex. Now all you had to do was find the perfect window of opportunity to attack.

You and him strafe around each other, both waiting for the other to attack or make a mistake. Your heart pounds in your chest as your eyes keep firmly locked onto him, watching and waiting for any indication he will attack as you circle.

He lunges once more and you roll out of the way and swing your sword around, hitting him before he jumped away. You see some blood seep into his ragged, white clothing confirming you hit him hard.

If you could keep this up, he’ll be down within minutes.

Your plan falls into place as you continue up with your dodging and only attacking when you get the chance, only getting hit a few times when you made a minor error.

The Pontiff stumbles again as you hit him and he suddenly stops and kneels onto the ground and you take this chance to attack him, but this proves to be a nearly fatal mistake as a large explosion emits from him. Sending you flying back.

You land with a harsh, ‘crack!’ as your armoured body harshly lands on the floor, cracking the steel in the process. Your sword goes flying out of your hands from the force of the explosion and clatters many feet away from you.

Rushing to get back up proved much more difficult than it should have been. Just as you attempt to stand up you immediately are bombarded by attacks from a strange purple figure, one that you quickly make out to look exactly like the Pontiff.

Your body is thrown yet again by the attacks of the clone. Tears brim at your eyes, threatening to spill from the pain and fear of meeting your demise once again.

You scramble away from the clone and the original as they approach, limping slightly as your ankle has been twisted from the second time you were thrown due to landing in an awkward position.

A silver glint catches your eye as you notice your sword sticking out of the ground just behind them.

‘Shit, how am I going to get there?’ Your mind reels as many plans come through your mind, the majority being quickly dismissed as impossible or far too dangerous.

They begin to get far too close for comfort as you attempt to move around in a wide circle, your speed greatly reduced due to your twisted ankle. You twitch at any slightest movement as they continue their slow yet intimidating approach, seemingly unaware of where you're trying to go.

Your sword is so close now, just a few more steps and you could hopefully tear it out of the ground and finish the Pontiff and his clone. So close! Just a few more steps and-

Both of them lunge at you with surprising speed, as you let out a gasp of shock and fear as you could only comprehend a blur of purple and tan before you feel a cold, large hand gripping around your throat, lifting you into the air.

You squirm and struggle, kicking and scratching at the Pontiff's hand. “Let go of me!” You screech despite knowing it was mostly hopeless. All your struggles don’t seem to affect Pontiff at all as he very slowly tilts his head, as if he’s examining you.

His other hand comes up and reaches for your helmet despite your persistent protests and wild struggling. Fear grips your heart, making it feel as if you're about to explode. If he takes off your helmet he could easily slit your throat or decapitate you and you’d prefer not to go out in a painful way.

Your helmet is roughly grabbed and torn off unceremoniously by him, leaving your face and neck completely vulnerable to him. Your eyes are red as tears well up from lack of air and from extreme fear and you can’t help but whimper.

You scrunch your eyes shut and tense your body up, preparing for the horrible pain and eventual numbness of death. But when a few moments pass and nothing happens, you tentatively open one of your eyes to peek.

“Pl-Please.. don’t kill me..” you manage to whimper out, your cowardice shining out more than ever. Why did you have to become an Ashen One? You were never cut out for this! It’s almost like the gods themselves played a cruel prank on you, damming you to a fate you were never meant for.

The Pontiff doesn’t react to your plea as his thumb presses a bit harder on a soft part of your neck. He’s rather enjoying his dominion over you and knows exactly how to put you in your place after you dared to strike him with a blade. He’d like a little lap pet but first he needs to break them in.

His clone moves behind you and you gasp as you feel your arms grabbed by it, you almost forgot it was there. Your arms are twisted slightly as you let out a small cry of pain before your arms are tied securely together with rope.

You try to move your arms but the way the rope is tied, prevents you from moving them from behind your back. ‘No, no, no!’ panic settles in as you kick your legs, attempting to kick Pontiff in the chest but failing miserably.

Your flailing legs are caught by the clone and they too are quickly tied together firmly. Now, you are completely at Pontiff's mercy as you stop struggling, due to exhaustion and knowing it was pointless.

The clone dissipates into thin air as Pontiff recalls it, it won't be needed anymore. He suddenly throws you over his shoulder like a prize from a pillage and begins to walk over to a chair before sitting down on it and laying you over his lap.

His hand trails down your head and hair as he takes out any hair bands to let your hair free. You yelp as he is not exactly gentle with it, taking a few strands of hair with the band.

He runs his fingers through your hair as he pets you, much like someone would pet a cat. You keep your body stiff and still, maybe if you just let him he’ll spare you.

Your cry of pain rings out suddenly as he harshly grabs a handful of your hair in his grip and yanks your head back, hurting your neck. He enjoys your sounds of pain and just how pitiful you look.

Your pupils shrink and you stare up at him with pure fear, terrified of what he’ll do next. Is he going to snap your neck? Strangle you? Your mind races with all the ways he could suddenly turn and kill you.

He simply holds you there, enjoying the tears beginning to form on your eyes before he lets go of your hair and his hands roam your body. He pokes and probes nearly everything, as if testing your limits.

His hands graze over your back until he reaches your ass and squeezes, causing you to let out a shocked yell and begin to wriggle and writhe in his lap. His hand pressing down on the small of your back quickly proves your little struggle fruitless.

His other hand caresses your asscheek, running his thumb over it or squeezing occasionally.

You’ve had about enough, even if you are a coward you do have a small backbone, “Get your disgusting hands off of me!” You hurl out insult after insult while struggling wildly in his lap, desperate to be freed.

The Pontiff seems only mildly annoyed by your squirming before he harshly grabs the back of your neck, causing fear to override your senses again and you freeze, your momentary courage dissipating instantly. He holds your neck for a few moments longer as if to enforce his discipline.

Dark thoughts run through Sulyvahns head, this wouldn’t do for discipline. He’d need to do something better to break his new pet.

A loud slap echoes out as a stinging and slight burning sensation erupts on your lower body. He had slapped your ass, rather hard too. It stung and hurt as you squirm in pain.

The familiar sensation of tears forming makes itself known. You're not entirely sure what’s causing them, the embarrassment? Or the pain? Most likely both. Another slap is brought down and you let out a cry of pain.

Sulyvahn enjoys watching you squirm in pain as he brings his hand down again and again, by now most likely leaving a handprint or causing a bruise to form.

Your legs try to kick or manoeuvre your lower body as tears begin to trickle down your reddened face one by one but it’s no use as Sulyvahn holds you mostly still.

His hand comes down again on your tender flesh, relentless in his assault. Sweat begins to form on your skin from the pain and fear as any struggle only serves to exhaust you further until eventually you lay limp on his lap.

Humiliation racks your form as you have to let him continue his horrible discipline as his hand comes down once more, causing you to let out exhausted cries of pain.

What a cruel fate, to be an Ashen one who is a coward with little pain resistance. Your body begins to quiver and shake as you hiccup cries.

“Stop..Please…” you whimper out, “Please, I’m sorry.” You don’t exactly know what you're apologising for, perhaps for daring to challenge him? Or having the audacity to actually hurt him. Whatever it was, you whimper out countless apologies.

Sulyvahn pauses his discipline for a few moments as he enjoys you begging for his mercy, but it’s far too bad for you as he’s not the most merciful. His thumb rubs over your tender skin for a few moments. Breaking in his new lap pet was going exceptionally well.

You breathe heavily, hoping that the discipline is over as he seems content to just caress your tender ass.

His mercy is short lived as he brings down his hand again. The pain is quickly becoming far, far too much for you as tears flow freely down your cheeks and spit pools in your mouth.

You babble and cry out pleas of mercy as he simply ignores you and continues with his sadistic pleasures, revelling in your tear stained face and quivering form bound across his lap.

You can feel your mind starting to slip and crack, breaking just as he intended. It clouds with pain and fear, just wanting the humiliating ‘discipline’ to end. “Please, please! I surrender. Please I-I’ll do anything just stop!” You yell out in desperation.

“I surrender.. surrender..please…” you weakly whimper as Sulyvahn seems pleased with your begging, exactly what he wanted to hear. His hands gently caress your terribly bruised skin, causing more pain than comfort.

You can practically feel the malice radiating from him. You can only pray that whatever lies ahead of you, it is merciful in some way.

———————

You lay draped across Sulyvahn's lap, as always. The armour you once boasted now gone and forgotten, replaced with a silky fabric that barely hides anything. His hand pets your head and runs his fingers through your hair.

Over time, you’ve gotten somewhat used to this tyrant and adapted to your new, yet humiliating position of a lap pet, one just for him. All calm and obedient, and always doing as he demands even if it’s to your own detriment, mentally and physically.

He sees himself as a king, you’ve come to understand that fairly well with your time spent with him. With the title, he fully expects to be treated as one and expects you to always fawn over him and do little errands.

Sometimes you dared to go out of line, to reject his wants and desires but it never ended well for you. Usually it ended with you bent over his lap or having your food taken away for the day.

Of course, he expected you to ‘service’ him in many ways as well. Most of which you did, although begrudgingly and at the cost of your dignity.

His hands ghost over your curves as he squeezes your thighs and you feel something hard press against you.

Chapter Text

Throughout your adventures in Yharnam, friendly faces were rare and it wasn’t even guaranteed that they would remain friendly. So, when you encountered this strange helmeted man in the forbidden woods it was truly a breath of fresh air.

At first you had been put off by him when he talked about the league and cleansing the streets of ‘vermin’ which he seemed very passionate about but you had become quick friends with Valtr, always running back to him to tell him of your adventures.

“Valtr! You won’t believe what I’ve done! But in a good way you know? Not like in the ‘what have you done?’ way.” You chirp excitedly as you run into the run down house where Valtr resides. You’ve always been quite the chatty one, not really knowing when to be quiet yet Valtr admired this, he particularly liked listening to your optimism and your voice wasn’t half bad either.

“Well what have you done now?” He inquires as he leans on his staff.

“So, I went through the forest and I saw these people and when I went up to them, snakes burst out of their heads! It was crazy.” You begin to chat excitedly with your hands moving around to emphasise your shock, “but that’s not what I wanted to tell you. So, anyways I proceeded and I found this strange grave sight. Then three cloaked, scary looking guys tried to fight me!”

“That must have been quite scary.”

“It really was, they had swords and one of them kept shooting fireballs. Actually, it was also kind of annoying.” You begin to pace back and forth, a habit that Valtr noted whenever you would ramble and go wildly off track from the topic of discussion.

“Have you ever been hit by a fireball? They hurt, like a lot.” You say, questioning him.

“I can’t say I ha-“

“It felt awful!” You cut him off, “ That one just kept running away and shooting fireballs while the others tried to attack me.” You shudder, remembering the feeling of your singed skin and the biting pain that didn’t cease. “Speaking of, don’t you hate it when they run away?”

Valtr chuckles, used to you cutting him off due to your excitement of telling him your little stories or discussing topics with him. “Yes, it’s very annoying having to chase your prey down.” His hands clench on his staff a bit, remembering… he shakes his head, “but, back to your story ey?” He gently puts you back on track.

“Right, right. Thanks Valtr,” your thanks gives his heart a strange flutter, “I can’t ever seem to stay on track, it’s so frustrating that I don’t even realise I’m doing it. Do you ever get distracted?” Yet again, there you go off the track.

“(Name), you're going off track again, darling.” He’s taken to calling you darling for a bit now, it doesn't bother you. Infact, it makes you think you're closer now with nicknames.

Your face flushes with embarrassment, going off topic while discussing how you hate going off topic, how ironic. You laugh nervously while pulling down your hunter's cap a bit to hide your face, “sorry..sorry.. yes! About the cloaked figures. It took me a bit of time to plan out how I was going to fight them. Taking on three enemies at once is quite hard.” You complain a bit before you go back on, rambling about your encounter.

Valtr listened carefully, he wouldn’t admit it out loud but he didn’t just like your voice, he loved it. He was quite the lonely person and his environment didn’t help his negative thoughts and memories so whenever you came around, it was like his own personal ball of light and positivity.

He watched as you waved your hands around frantically and paced around or swung your weapon to imitate the fight you were telling him about. Your mannerisms were surprisingly a nice change of pace, usually his subordinates or other hunters he’s met have been very rigid and professional. Not that he wasn't when first meeting or recruiting someone, but it was nice to be more relaxed around someone and for them to be relaxed around him. He doesn’t realise he’s not listening and focuses again, hearing the last bits of your story.

“There were giant snakes coming out of the ground and out of their cloaks, it was super creepy.” Goosebumps litter your skin from remembering them, you aren’t very fond of snakes anymore due to your encounters in the forest. “But, I persisted and my hunt was finished.” You smile proudly.

“That’s quite the story. I’m glad your hunts are successful.” He praises you. You suddenly gasp loudly which causes him to startle a bit.

“I almost forgot! I didn’t come here just to tell you that!” You laugh at yourself before continuing, “well.. since I’m part of the league and what you’ve told me to do, y'know ‘crush vermin’ and such?”

Valtr raises his brow beneath his strange helmet but continues to listen, “yes I do remember. What of it?” He urges you to continue on.

“I did it! I’ve crushed some vermin! It was quite the shock when I received the first few, honestly I never knew where vermin came from or what they looked like. But the moment I saw it, I knew that it must have been it.” You remember the strange, writhing centipede like creatures emerging from your successful hunts whilst helping other hunters.

“Ah, very good! You’ve crushed some vermin.” His tone sounds genuinely proud and he really is, “I’m pleased,” he undermines his own emotions, “this makes you a true confederate of The League.” He proudly announced your new title.

Your heart races with happiness at his praise and your new found rank among The League. “Oh really? This is great! Thank you, Valtr!” You suddenly envelop him in a tight hug, your face on his chest due to being shorter than him.

The amount of enemies you’ve faced and the hostile people who yelled at you through their doors for simply being a foreigner or just for no discernible reason had really put a damper on your mood. So hearing that you belonged somewhere, in a group, with others who wouldn’t think of you as just a foreigner but a confederate to hunt with. It simply made your heart flutter with happiness.

Valtr tenses up at the sudden hug, not expecting it at all, nearly dropping his staff in shock. But slowly, he relaxes and hesitantly wraps his arms around you, patting your back as he’s quite unsure of what to do. He hasn’t had any physical affection for quite a while, so he’s quite awkward with it. Strangely, he feels his face heat up in a blush.

You realise you’ve been hugging him for a bit longer than intended and quickly disengage yourself, moving backwards with an awkward laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to just hug you like that, I got a bit too excited.” You apologise to him, your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s fine, darling.” He chuckles and pats your shoulder. If anything, he craved more touch.

You nervously look at your feet as you take off your hunters cap to fiddle with it. You clear your throat and set down your cap on a nearby ledge before speaking, “I’ve got quite the journey ahead of me… I’ll have to admit, coming here to talk to you really calmed my nerves.” Your voice is lower than usual as you admit it, “you're a good listener, Valtr. It makes me glad to have someone who will listen to my ramblings.”

Valtr feels a strange feeling again, what kept piercing his heart? That’s when it fell into place, he holds affections for you, romantic affections. He unintentionally blocks out whatever you're saying as his mind races as it finally puts together what's been plaguing him for a while.

The happiness he feels whenever you come into the dilapidated windmill and tell him your stories, the strange thoughts he’s had about you, the protective feelings whenever he’s seen you hurt or recounting being hurt in one of your stories. It all makes sense now.

A hand waves in front of his face, “Valtr? Are you alright?” You ask, having noticed him staring off into space.

Valtr jumps a bit as he quickly comes back to his senses, “O-Oh,” he clears his throat, “I’m fine, I got distracted is all.” He quickly brushes it off as he tries his hardest not to think about his feelings which are becoming harder to ignore.

“Well, I was just saying I should probably get going now.” You say, downtrodden at having to leave him so soon. Usually you’d stay for a little longer but important things need to be dealt with, “I’ll be headed to Byrgenwerth next, I’ll make sure to come back and tell you all that I’ve experienced.” As you turn to take your leave you look over your shoulder, “I’ll be seeing you, Valtr.”

He watches you leave and bids you farewell. He feels even more lonely now that he's finally realised his feelings. He has always felt strangely lonely whenever you left but it’s far, far worse now.

His eyes wander the area and widen in surprise as he notices your cap, forgotten on a ledge. He walks over and takes it into his hand, inspecting it. It’s a simple hunters cap, not much different than any of its kind. A few scratches and missing pieces are all that's unique about the cap.

A strange thought invades his lonely mind as he hesitantly lifts up his own helmet before putting it on a ledge beside him. He lifts your cap to face and takes a small sniff, he nearly groans in delight as your staple moonlit scent still coats the cap.

He has smelt your scent time and time again, it is so strong on you and he can usually smell you before he even sees you. He already imagines your next meeting and how you’ll tell him all about your adventure. Perhaps, he should keep the cap for ‘safe-keeping’ until you come back or maybe, he should keep it all to himself.

He looks around, checking to see if you’ll come back to get your cap but he sees no indication of your return any time soon. He takes another inhale of your lovely scent as his pants tighten with an aching erection.

More thoughts of you invade his mind, they start off simple and innocent enough: just you coming back and having a conversation with him but they take a more drastic turn suddenly as his mind becomes lusted and the erection in his pants begs for attention.

Images of you, willingly sitting in his lap while you yammer on about your stories. He can only imagine how it would feel to caress you and wrap his hands around your waist. How you’d be all flustered as his hands explore and squeeze.

His hand semi-consciously reaches down and undoes the fly on his pants, lightly rubbing his erection through his trousers. Inhaling your scent stuck onto your cap was quickly becoming addicting, almost- no, more addicting than blood.

His mind races with more images of him pulling down your top and kissing at your neck. You, still trying to tell your story but stuttering and stopping while he gently encourages you to continue speaking. He groans with untended desire as he can hardly imagine what sounds you’d make as he found the sweet spot on your neck and how’d he abuse it.

Sweat begins to form on his skin from sheer desire as he pulls down his trousers, freeing his aching cock and wrapping his hand around it. He starts with slow pumps as he holds your cap in his face, inhaling the scent left on it every chance he gets.

He can only imagine how responsive you’d be to his touch as he fondles your breasts or puts his hands down your pants to pleasure you. How you would be so flustered as he peppers his bite marks all across your neck.

Pre-cum dribbles from his tip as he continues to masturbate to the sheer thought and memories of you. By the blood, how could he look you in the eyes after this and not be flooded with desire.

The thought of your bare skin against his as he slowly enters you makes him buck into his hand, needy for more pleasure. His breath is turning hot and heavy as he keeps imagining just how good it would feel inside you, pumping in and out as you moan out his name for more.

He increases his pace as he nearly begins rutting into his hand, desperate to replicate the feeling he’s never known but wishes, prays he will someday. His hand could never own up to how he imagines you’d feel, clenched around him.

He feels slight fear he’s become drunk, not of blood but simply of your moonlit scent as he takes larger inhales, making himself light headed from lack of oxygen as all he focuses on is getting every ounce of the remainder of you.

Many scenarios he prays to become true play through his mind. You, pressed up against the wall, completely bare for him as he pounds into you from behind while covered in love bites. Or you, pleading for him to slow down as he greedily eats you out and bites on your inner thighs, using his hands to keep you still as orgasm after orgasm racks your frame.

A familiar feeling begins to form as he approaches his peak, and he feels much more beast than man as he lets himself go and bucks into his hand like a foul beast starved of blood. He bites onto your cap to silence himself as he groans with every lustful thrust.

By now, his mind is swimming in lust and desire as he lets out a guttural groan when he finally climaxes, ropes of cum shooting out from his cock and onto his hand or the floor.

He breathes heavily as he slowly comes down from his high, he’s exhausted and sweaty. His hand is all dirty and some of the floor is now as well. He uses his other, clean hand to take your cap from his mouth and takes one last sniff. It still mostly smells like you but the scent is dissipating, which makes him a bit saddened.

He places your cap back on the ledge where you left it, he hopes that the bite mark he accidentally left wouldn’t be noticed by you. Pulling out a cloth from his pocket, he cleans his hand and discards the now sullied cloth. He dresses himself again and returns to his normal spot. He can only hope you’ll come back soon enough.

—————

Your adventure in Byrgenwerth was a strange one, having been attacked by a choir member and meeting Master Wilhem, who never said anything but just pointed to the lake with his sceptre.

The fight with Rom wasn’t all that hard, it was her little minions that gave you a hard time instead of Rom herself. But In the end, you persisted and the red moon descended which afterwards you were promptly transported to Yahar’gul, but first you wanted to meet someone first.

Teleporting to the lamp in the forbidden woods, you turn immediately to the dilapidated windmill with a smile on your face. “Valtr!” You call out, your voice echoing slightly.

You turn and find him in his usual spot, “I have so much to share with you!” You can hardly find the right spot to start but you remember you should ask something, “by the way, have you seen my cap?”

Valtr, slightly shuffles a bit as he intentionally blocks your view from the ledge where you left it. He wants a keepsake, of course, he feels a little guilty about it but it’s a simple hunters cap…your simple hunters cap, and that’s all that mattered to him. “No, sorry darling I haven’t.”

“Hm, oh well I can just get another one.” You're not that concerned about your cap as you begin to ramble to him excitedly about your little expedition to Byrgenwerth. Valtr simply listens and watches.

Chapter Text

The lands Between were a hostile and dangerous land with little to no time to really care about anything else other than survival. No time for pleasantries. But on the rare accounts you were, mostly sure, that you were completely safe and alone, you always took him to take care of yourself. Whether it is brushing or fixing your hair, repairing your armour and weapons or just finding something to eat. But the thing you wanted most was to feel clean again.

You shake off some mud from your damaged boots as you take them off. You’ve finally found a nice spot to relax in with little to no danger around. You’ve already made up your mind that you will stay here for a while, a tarnished deserves some rest after all that you’ve done.

The spot you’ve chosen is in a little hidden spot, within Limgrave and beneath a thick coverage of trees. The shade from the trees helps you to cool down and feel a little more at ease as you work on taking off the rest of your armour, pausing at any sounds but most of them are just of animals passing by.

The weight of the sweaty, bloody and disgustingly dirty armour finally coming off of you makes you sigh in relief, “Thanks the gods,” you mutter to yourself as you rub your sore shoulder. Nearly your entire body is sore from the sheer amount of pressure on it for extended periods of time and fighting for your life constantly.

Dressed down into simple clothes of breathable fabric should make you feel more clean, but yet you don’t feel any cleaner, just less burdened.

Trickle, trickle…

A sound catches your ears as you snap your head towards the sound, fully expecting to see some sort of enemy charging towards you. But when nothing happens and the trickling sound simply persists, you relax yourself and tilt your head to find the source of the sound.

Trickle, trickle…

Your heart jumps as you finally realise what’s been making the sound, running fresh water! It’s been so long since you’ve found water good enough to even touch. You get up and leave your supplies, you won’t be needing them as you're sure nothing could spot you or steal your belongings in this hidden area.

You follow the sound and find a little stream of glistening, clear water that continues into a larger stream and eventually what looks to be a decently sized pond, surrounded by trees providing their shade and coverage.

The water is almost like a siren to you. Finally! A place for you to fully clean yourself. You’ve found a few pond’s across Limgrave but most of them are far too open or plagued by enemies. So this secluded, covered and secret pond was like a personal blessing to you.

You run your hand over spots of skin covered in dirt and grime or bruises and dried blood of your enemies and yourself. You shiver as you feel how filthy your skin has gotten from your adventures. The adventures were fun but, you needed to have a break.

Walking off to a nearby tree with a sturdy branch, you start to take off your clothes and hang them over the branch to store them for now. Perhaps you could wash them in the water after washing yourself, you wouldn't want to put on dirty clothes after being freshly cleaned.

The feeling of the perfectly cold, clean water as you step into It is equivalent to resting at a site of grace, only better. You continue to walk into the water as it quickly goes up to your waist in height, you can practically feel the grime beginning to wash off with every step deeper.

You begin to carefully wash your body, taking more care to be gentle around bruised spots. As you wash, you notice more scars you’ve never noticed before. They are mostly small but are reminders of what you’ve gone through. You let out a sigh of relaxation, you really deserve this bath after all.

—————

Varre was stalking you, well, he personally wouldn’t call it stalking, more like keeping an eye on you. Yes, that’s all that it was. Even when he followed at a distance where you never noticed him or never noticing some extra supplies had been put into your bag after sleeping. He was only observing, is what he always told himself.

As of late, he’s been watching your progression and it’s quite promising. Watching you fell numerous enemy after enemy was truly a good sign. You could do well for the Mohgwyn dynasty, now, if he only could convince you to join.

Your first meeting with him was nothing special, just him calling you maidenless and being passive-aggressive. He thought you were just a simple tarnished, fully expecting to find your corpse after a while but instead finding you thriving. Seeing your potential was what caught his attention and started his ‘observation’ of you.

So, when you vanished into a tangle of trees he was quite intrigued, just where could you be going with such purpose? Of course, he waited for a few moments to follow you in but only finding the discarded remains of your armour and your bag of supplies placed against a tree.

His curiosity is spiked now. Taking off your armour and leaving many valuable items simply lying out? You even left your trusty weapon just lying on the grass, practically begging to be stolen.

It takes him a moment but he spots the fading imprints of footsteps going deeper into the woods. Of course, they were yours, he had gotten scarily accurate in telling which trail belonged to you even if you were wearing armour or were barefoot or travelling atop of Torrent.

He follows your trail as the sound of trickling water and splashing invades his ears. He comes across a branch with familiar, dirty clothing hanging over it. So, that’s what you came here for, a wash.

He peers around the tree and finally notices you, waist deep in the water and completely bare with your back turned to him. Ah, what a precarious position he found his dear Lambkin in.

————

Your skin has never felt better as you continue to wash and just enjoy the feeling of finally being cleaned and unburdened by heavy armour. The aching of your muscles had died down and no longer bothered you and your mind completely absconded any worries or doubts.

“Oh, Lambkin.”

You nearly scream as your senses rush back to you and your instincts to fight flare up as you whip around upon hearing the familiar voice, covering your breasts with your arms.

“V-Varre!” You yell out in shock as you immediately sink further into the water up to your shoulders, trying to hide your nude form from him. How long has he been there?

You back up further into the pond as he simply watches with his hands clasped together. “How long have you been there…” you question him, your face starting to heat up. Did he see you completely bare?

“Not long, Lambkin. Infact, I’ve only just arrived, to quite the sight no less.” He says as if it was some simple conversation.

You glare at him, slightly angered yet still embarrassed. “Well… as you can clearly see I’m not dressed, so if you wish to talk to me, avert your eyes or go away until I’m dressed.” You firmly say, your experiences in The Lands Between have conditioned you to act in such ways.

He does neither of your demands as he simply continues the conversation, “Why don’t you come closer, Lambkin? It’s quite rude to converse so far away.” He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows what he’ll do if you don’t abide.

“It’s ‘quite rude’ to watch someone bathe, like a creep.” You bite back at him, already getting annoyed. “Avert your gaze or leave and wait, or I simply won’t talk to you.” You turn your back towards him again, making sure to keep your body under the water and out of view.

“Now, Lambkin, there's no need to make things more difficult then they’ll need to be.” He already knows your rather stubborn personality and lets out a small ‘hmm’ as he receives no response from you. Oh well, he’ll just come to you instead.

He doesn’t entirely mind getting wet as he begins to undo his clothing which easily comes off, taking off everything except his mask and placing them on the branch.

Hearing a sloshing sound makes you turn around, did he really?- seeing him in the water and wading to you confirmed your suspicions. “Wha- No! What the fuck are you doing?” You shout at him as you keep backing up away from him any step he takes closer.

He ignores your panicked shout and how you're trying to scramble away from him whilst keeping in the water. “I have a proposition for you, Lambkin.” He says calmly, still approaching.

“It couldn’t wait until after?!” You quickly realise you're cornered as your back hits a large rock and Varre simply continues his advance as if nothings wrong. You mentally curse yourself, you should have taken your weapon! You cover your face with your hands and bring your knees to your chest.

You can feel Varre’s presence above you as he stares down at you, uncomfortably close. “I’ve come to invite you to join the Mohgwyn Dynasty.” His hands grasp onto your wrists and try to pry them from your face, “You have promise, Lambkin. The Dynasty will benefit with your strength. This is a wonderous offer, one not to be squandered.”

You’ve heard of the Mohgwyn Dynasty a few times, most of them from Varre. You really only thought of them as some sort of weird blood cult that you wanted no involvement with. Your hands are pried from your face and held firmly in Varre’s hands as you look up at him timidly. His mask had always put you off, only ever a small smile no matter what he talked about. Not being able to discern his emotions was the thing that put you off, and now it’s downright terrifying.

Varre wasn’t entirely lying about the offer, he did want you to join for your power as a knight. But he did have his own selfish reasons for the offer, he had questioned himself during his little ‘observations’ and found more fondness in his heart for you. He’d hate to see your potential for power and your romantic potential go to waste.

“No! I don’t want to join your weird, blood cult thing!” You yell at him, hoping he’ll back off.

“Oh? Do you even comprehend the gravity of your rejection?” He doesn’t sound very irked but you could feel the dark thoughts swimming in his head. “Hmm, I know. I will show you the love that Luminary Mohg has blessed us with.”

What the hell could that mean? Your mind races and watches as Varre lifts his mask only to uncover his lips before he promptly grabs your shoulders and leans down, smashing his lips against yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you are stunned for a few moments before you feel his tongue try to invade your mouth. You turn your head away, breaking the kiss.

Your mind begins to feel fuzzy with confusion and strange arousal. You hate to admit but Varre has crossed your mind multiple times as being attractive, you’d guess his personality and slyness were what attracted you. You really wouldn’t mind this situation if he wasn’t trying to indoctrinate you into a cult.

He tries to lean in for another kiss but you put your hand between him and you, “I already said no, Varre. I’m not joining.” You struggle to keep your stoic composure, “D-Don’t you have anyone else to pester?”

He moves your hand away and takes your chin into his hands to make you look at him, “Oh, my Lambkin.” He sighs with a sly smile dawning on his face, “my personal affections aren’t just for anyone. I’ll show you the love of Luminary Mohg and myself.” He adds to his previous statement.

His confession shocks you as you gasp and Varre takes this small opportunity to move your hand away and kiss you again, his tongue successfully invading and exploring. You put your hands on his chest to try and push him away but you can’t find the strength nor much want to do so. Perhaps, you could enjoy this. You deserved it after all.

You moan into the kiss as you let your mind and body revel in your lust. Your arms pull him closer as your chests touch. The kiss is sloppy and filled with mounting desire the longer it goes on, only ever breaking to take greedy gasps of air before resuming.

Varre breaks the kiss this time only to speak with laboured breaths, “On your knees lambkin.” His command is simple but his voice is filled with lust. You do as he says and get down on your knees, the water only reaching below your chest now.

His hardening cock twitches as he grasps it and his other hand on your head. He presses the tip of his cock against your lips, “Open.” His demand is met as you open your mouth and he pushes his cock into your mouth.

You gag a bit as he enters due to your inexperience. You struggle to take the entirety of his cock into your mouth as it touches the back of your throat. You hear him groan in pleasure as your tongue licks at his cock.

You begin to slowly move back and forth, sucking on his cock. You put your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continue to pleasure him. His hand on top of your head gently caresses, gently praising you.

“Ah, my Lambkin.” Varre groans, “you’re doing so well.” His praise sends arousal flooding through you as you pick up your speed just a bit. Small tears prick at your eyes anytime you gag.

Your light headed as you breathe heavily but don’t care, only wanting to continue as you take a bold move and deep-throat his entire cock. Varre lets out a shuddering groan as he slightly bucks his hips and the hand on top of your head grasps at your hair.

“You worship my cock so well, Lambkin.” He breathes heavily as he feels his pleasure mounting up, “Now, swallow it all up.” The hand grasping at your hair pulls you to envelop his entire cock and he cums down your throat. The salty taste is strange to you but you do as he says, swallowing all of it.

He breathes heavily as you take your mouth off of his cock. “Show me.” He commands again to see your mouth, to make sure you’ve swallowed every last drop. His fingers grasp your jaw as you open your mouth again and he inspects it, “What a good Lambkin.” He praises as he finds no drop left.

You let out a gasp as he suddenly pulls you up and then pushes you against a large rock. His hand gripping your thigh to spread open your leg and put it over his shoulder. His hand reaches down and rubs your pussy, spreading your folds with his fingers and tracing his fingers around your hole, teasing you.

“Varre..Please..” you whimper out, desperately needing your own pleasure. Desperately, needing him. “I need you, please..” your whimper nearly turns to whines as he keeps teasing you.

“Ah, you sound wonderous begging for me.” His fingers graze over your needy clit. He rubs the head of his cock on your folds, lubricating himself with your wetness.

He suddenly shoves two of his fingers into your pussy, causing a wave of relief and pleasure to run up your spine as you wrap your arms around his chest, your nails lightly scratching his back.

His fingers explore a bit as he slowly pumps them in and out in an attempt to stretch you out before he fucks you with his cock. He suddenly curls his fingers and finds your sweet spot, making you cry out in pleasure. “Th-there, Varre, fuck please keep.. doing that.” You whine as the need for bliss and release are all that you think of.

His fingers pump in and out faster as he curls them every time he goes in, loving how your face contorts in pleasure. He leans his face down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking at the bud while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

The pleasure racking your body causes you to moan and nearly cry, begging for Varre to keep touching and fucking you. A knot forms in your lower stomach as his fingers begin to relentlessly abuse your sweet spot. Your juices already beginning to seep out of you and onto his fingers

A scream of mind-numbing pleasure tears from your throat as you climax, your juices freely flowing down your thighs and coating Varre’s fingers.

Varre lifts his head back up as he watches your chest move up and down with your exhausted breathing. He slowly takes out his now soaked fingers, examining them, “Quite the loud one, aren’t you?” He slyly chuckles before wiping his fingers on his cock, lubricating it further.

His cock head slips against your sopping wet pussy, lightly pushing but not entering, “Ah, Lambkin I’ve dreamed of this moment.” He confesses another little secret before he suddenly pushes his length into you.

You scratch at his back as you let out whimpers of combined pain and pleasure. You're thankful for Varre’s previous actions as you’ve loosened up quite nicely for his entrance to be mostly easy and mostly painless.

You hear him shush you as finally hilts himself to his balls inside of you. He slowly begins to thrust, only going in and out in intervals so as to not hurt you too much. His hands grip harshly on your thighs and they leave small bruises as he holds himself back from ravaging you, wanting to savour you instead.

“S…So, good.” You mutter as he continues his slow thrusts and now only feeling pleasure as you’ve stretched out enough to handle his length. “Faster, Varre please.” You plead and Varre happily obliges as he increases his pace, going at a steady pace now.

“You’re so tight, dear Lambkin.” He praises you as he thrusts, “You we’re simply made for me,” he practically coo’s before he connects his lips with yours, greedily tasting you as you open your mouth.

His hand slaps your lower thigh as he begins to lose himself to his wants and the speed of his thrusts pick up, his balls slapping against your pussy as he groans into the kiss at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

You break the kiss as you become light headed from lack of oxygen and you stare into his yellow eyes as he continues to fuck you to his hearts content. The only sound in the area is your mewls and cries of pleasure, his ragged heavy breathing and groans and the sound of wet skin slapping against each other.

He increases his speed greatly as he approaches his next orgasm, his sheer speed and intensity making you moan out his name and begin to babble out begs and plead for him to go faster. Your mind begins to melt with lust, only thinking of how good his cock feels.

You let out a shuddering cry as your nails dig into his back and your walls clench around him, reaching your peak and squirting on his cock.

Just as you orgasm he does too, shooting ropes of cum into your pussy as he sloppily thrusts a few more times before stopping entirely, holding onto you and breathing heavily as sweat trickles down his skin.

He slips out his now flaccid cock from you with ease. Some of his cum leaking down your thigh and into the water. Your legs buckle as you try to keep yourself up.

He takes a breath before he speaks, “Dear Lambkin, that is just one of the blessings I could bestow upon you.” His fingers trail against your chin, “if you join the Mohgwyn dynasty, we could enjoy many opportunities together.” His mind is already brewing up a plan to ask Mohg to betroth you to him if- when you join.

You weakly shake your head, even if his actions sweetened the deals tremendously you still didn’t feel like joining a cult.

Varre hums, “Well, the opportunity is always present.” He knows that one day, he’ll manage to convince you to join. He takes a few steps back, pulling down his mask before turning and leaving the pond. “I’ll be at the Rose Church, in Liurnia. Come to me when you’ve realised the mistake of your rejection.”

With that, he takes his clothes from the branch putting them back on before leaving from the hidden pond.

You groan at the pain settling in your legs from his intensity as you wobble out of the pond which turns more into a crawl as you get to more shallow water.

You wonder just how long your legs will be shaking, hopefully not too long as you’ll need to get going soon to continue your and every other tarnished’s mission.

As you slowly wobble back onto your legs and shuffle over to the branch you notice that your clothes are gone, Varre having taken them with him so you’ll have to go to the Rose Church anyway.

‘Great’ you mutter under your breath. At least you have your armour, although it’s quite uncomfortable being completely naked under armour but oh well, make do with what you have.

Chapter Text

Your footsteps echo as you make your way through the perilous chalice dungeons. Slicing your way through any enemies and focusing on bell-fingers whenever you found them to finally get rid of those annoying spiders. You have mostly forgotten why you're even here, was it to collect something? But whenever you slid off the heavy lid of a coffin and practically grave-robbed someone it didn’t feel like anything was fulfilled.

Even though you’ve mostly forgotten why you've come here you're far too stubborn to give up and just leave the dungeons, by the blood you will remember somehow.

That’s when it finally hits you as you snap your fingers with realisation, of course, how could you forget? You’ve come to this specific dungeon, one where it feels like you can barely take as many hits as you usually can to help other hunters in their worlds.

You had a horrible time progressing through this dungeon, the watchdog on the upper layer having slayed you numerous times before you finally came out on top. The Amygdala in such a small room in this layer had also broken you multiple times, splattering your guts and bones across the room. But by luck or sheer idiotic stubbornness, you had persevered and found your way to Queen Yharnam who was mostly a push-over.

A/N: (I did these dungeons once and NEVER AGAIN just for the trophy so ignore any discrepancies, I have blocked it out of my mind).

You walk towards the open doors and down the stairs, into the small room where that cursed Amygdala used to reside before you slayed it. You’re not entirely sure what provoked you to be so helpful to other hunters, maybe it was the gratitude they expressed afterwards or knowing the sheer struggle yourself.

Taking the small Resonant Bell out from your bag, you conjure your summon sign in the corner before the doors, a place where any hunter would see it before entering into the fight. And now all that there is to do is to wait.

You hum and pace around, making sure not to stray too far from your summon sign or else have it disappear. You lean against the wall after a few minutes, inspecting your weapon boredly. It’s been a few minutes since you’ve placed the sign down and nothing but crickets.

Just as you're about to give up and move your summon sign you suddenly hear.

Ring, ring, ring..

That’s it! You’ve been summoned. You stay still as you feel a familiar yet strange feeling of being summoned into a world seperate of yours. Your feet sink into the ground as the world almost seems to bend and distort around you before it fades to black, just for a few mere moments.

The world you’ve been summoned into slowly materialises as you emerge from your summoning sign. You shake your head as dizziness racks your form for a moment, being summoned is always disorienting. You wonder where your summoner is as you turn around to find out just who did.

Your eyes land on a clearly male hunter, sporting the average hunter's attire. His cap and the usual black cloth above the nose mostly obscuring his face, the low light conditions of the dungeons certainly not making it any easier to discern his features.

You wave your hand before speaking, “Greetings! I’m grateful you’ve summoned me.” You do feel nervous, you want to prove yourself as a helpful summon and silently pray you won’t mess up the hunt. “I am (name), yours?” You extend your hand to him.

But instead of speaking and telling you his name, much like the others would after summoning you due to it being common courtesy. He simply remains stoically silent and grasps your hand in a firm handshake before letting go.

“Uh,” you pause awkwardly, “that’s the part you tell me your name.” You try to make some humour out of the situation as you smile. Again, he remains silent before gesturing for you to follow as he walks over to the gate of fog.

You mutter a bit under your breath before you follow him through the fog. Preparing to fight the Amygdala that had proven to be such a pain to you. Now, the only thing you need to worry about is to prove yourself useful.

————

The disembodied hands of the raging Amygdala slam down on the ground near you, causing you to stumble back as your heart leaps into your throat at the close call.

You’ve taken too mostly distracting the Amygdala while The Hunter attacks its weak spots after it attacks, such as its many arms or its head. So far; the plan has been going decently well with you only being hit a handful of times and The Hunter taking a few brunt’s but other than that being fine.

The Amygdala suddenly shoots a thin purple beam from its head and trails it around mostly aimlessly but in your general direction. You know this attack but your racing mind makes you momentarily forget its exact timing as the delayed explosions catch you off guard.

You let out a scream of pain as an explosion hits you, greatly hurting you. Oh well, you have blood vials. You reach down instinctively to your belt and feel around but your heart drops, you're all out. How did you run out so fast? Did you take more hits then you’ve realised or were you too greedy with the vials?

The Hunter hears your scream as he draws the attention of the Amygdala to attack him, slamming its hands around in a rage but missing every attempt to crush him. He notices your panicked movements and expressions and then takes notice of your belt, completely bare of vials.

He looks down at his own belt, still stocked with many vials as he had taken less hits in the fight. He baits the Amygdala to attack again as he dodges under its slam attack and runs over to you with intent.

You look up to see The Hunter running at you, “Ah, no it’s fine!” You try to dissuade him, “go! I’ll keep distracting it, it’s nearly dead.” Of course your protests fall on deaf ears as he suddenly goes behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and another arm reaching onto his belt and taking a blood vial before shoving it into your thigh.

And just like that, he’s off running at the Amygdala again, leaving you stunned. He could have just given you the vial instead of injecting you himself. You shake your head as you get your mindset back into the hunt and catch the attention of the Amygdala.

After a few more minutes of dodging and weaving about the Amygdala’s arm and The Hunters' attacks, the large body of the beast lets out a final cry before collapsing and fading into nothing but dust.

You wipe sweat from your forehead, you’ve forgotten how hard this specific Amygdala was. You look up as you hear the approaching footsteps of The Hunter. You smile at him, “well, I hope I was satisfactory in my help.” You know that with the big enemy gone, you will soon return to your world.

He takes a blood vial from his belt as he doesn’t acknowledge your words and yet again, shoves the vial into your thigh instead of just giving it to you.

“You can just give it to me.” You deadpan at him, “it’ll be much easier than injecting me yourself” you cross your arms before clearing your throat, “well, I’ll be seeing you. It’s been nice, Hunter.” Since you didn’t know his name, you simply called him Hunter.

The world distorts and bends as your body fades into strange dusty particles as you’re transported back to your world within just moments.

Little did you know, this wouldn’t be the last time you were summoned by this strange hunter.

———

You truly wondered if he was deliberately searching for your summon signs as you’ve found yourself time and time again fighting by his side, each time he summoned you he became more touchy. Instead of gesturing you to follow him he would simply take your hand in his or put his hand on the small of your back and lead you.

He would jump in front of enemies or attacks coming at you or push you out of the way, was he trying to be chivalrous? Is this how yharnamite hunters flirt? You're probably overthinking it, is what you kept telling yourself but the mounting evidence is making it harder to reject this idea.

A tap on your shoulder knocks out of your distracted state, “oh, sorry Hunter I was just thinking.” You say as you turn around to face him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he takes your hand into his and begins to lead you again, his weapon in his other hand held out to slash at any enemies.

This time you had set your summon sign in Yahar’gul. It didn’t take long for you to be summoned by your Hunter friend, you wondered how he was always finding your sign so fast and getting to it before anyone else could.

You and him wander the streets of Yahar’gul, the strange melted, merged bodies in little crates being your main adversaries. Although mostly his, as he always pushed you behind him as if he was protecting you, despite being able to protect yourself quite well.

He always extensively checked you for any injuries after any fight whether or not it was a big one or a tiny one. If he’d spot even the slightest cut he would take his own vials and stick it into your thigh. You have expressed how you have your own vials and can do it yourself but he just brushes off your words.

You two walk around the streets, having collected every material in the area and now it’s time to head for the plaza. His hand firmly holding yours in his as you both make your way.

But, your little adventure is interrupted as a familiar, unpleasant feeling makes your hair stand up on end. An invader. The Hunter senses it too as his hand firmly grasps yours.

The moments when an invader first comes to a world are the worst as you look around, attempting to find just where they are. A glint of red catches your attention as you point, “There.” You whisper to The Hunter, not wanting to alert the invader.

“I have an idea.” You whisper again and The Hunter seems intrigued and you continue, “we can ambush them but we’ll have to split up.” As you say the idea, The Hunter doesn’t seem to like the idea of splitting up but lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping before nodding his head.

He reluctantly lets go of your hand as you explain the plan a little further, you will find the invader and deliberately make yourself known while he sneaks behind them to deliver a final blow. A flawless plan in your mind, but you could see The Hunter is worried and reluctant.

“Hey, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him, wondering why he’s so concerned for your safety, “I’m farther than capable of defending myself from invaders.” Memories of being invaded yourself flash in your mind, most of them being defeated by you but a few times being defeated by them instead. You win some, you lose some, is what you tell yourself.

You pat his shoulder before taking off into the general direction that you noticed the red glint. You hear the footsteps of The Hunter disappear as he goes into hiding but you can still feel his eyes on you, watching and following from a distance.

You slow to a stop as you come face to face with the invader, his red glow striking against the dark architecture. He slowly begins to circle you as you prepare your weapon, waiting for him to make a move.

He dashed towards you and you dash back instantly, attempting to keep your distance from his saw spear as he swings at you. You take a chance and dash back at him, hitting him with your weapon but getting hit back as you stumble.

You regain your footing just in time to dodge a particularly strong swing and dash back a few times. The Invader quickly follows after you as you both swing your weapons, clashing against each other wildly before suddenly you notice him take out his gun and shoot, causing you to fall to your knees.

The Invader takes the opportunity and suddenly knocks you onto your back and straddles your waist, the tip of his saw spear quickly brought to your neck.

He’s sensually cruel as he brings his fist to your face, punching a few times, causing your nose to bleed profusely. You let out a yelp of pain with each hit, just what is this invaders problem? He keeps the saw spear pressed onto your neck to keep you still.

Rushing footsteps catch your attention and before you know it, a saw cleaver is plunged through the stomach of the invader before being violently ripped out. A scream rips from the invaders throat before he collapses, sliding off of you and fading into dust.

You sniff as you sit up and touch your nose, which is now gushing blood. You feel around your face, feeling a few new bruises forming but you’ll live, so to you, it’s completely fine and nothing a few vials can’t fix.

“Hey Hunter, you have impeccable timing.” You dryly laugh and you wipe your bloody nose on your sleeve, leaving a stain.

The Hunter doesn’t find any humour in this as he suddenly grabs and lifts you before carrying you bridal style. “Hey!” You let out a shocked yell, “put me back down! I can walk!” You protest and squirm in his grip, but he only tightens his hold on you so as to not drop you by accident.

Your protests are quickly shushed as he motions with his finger to be quiet and you know that arguing with him won’t lead anywhere, as he doesn’t exactly argue or even talk.

He walks into a nearby abandoned home, still decently furnished and nice like many abandoned homes across Yharnam, it’s most likely empty due to the owners becoming beasts or being killed by said beasts.

He plops you onto a couch before sitting next to you and lifting you onto his lap. “What’s all this for-“ your question is answered as he brings a cloth to your nose and dabs around, cleaning you of the blood on your face. His other hand gently grabs onto your chin to move your face around when he needs to clean harder to reach spots.

His face is uncomfortably close as you blush and shuffle around a bit in his lap, “You don’t need to do this..” you mutter, not really knowing if you really want him to stop. He doesn’t stop as he cleans up the last bits of blood staining your face and discarding the cloth haphazardly.

“Well… thank you, Hunter.” You mutter your thanks as you attempt to get up but a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist stop you from doing so, “Hunter, I’m fine I promise you.” You try to explain to him but he lets out a grumble before his hands suddenly start to feel around your body, checking for any more injuries.

You let him feel around, used to his extensive inspections but being inspected like this while on his lap has you heating up in a blush. You simply watch as his large hands trail down your sides, your arms and eventually your thighs, feeling for any injuries or bruising.

His hands suspiciously stay on your thighs a little longer than necessary before moving to wrap around your waist again and pull you a bit closer into him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, causing you to let out a small gasp of shock before you hear an almost relieved sigh come from him, as if he’s greatly relieved you're alright.

You stay on his lap and let him hold you, rather liking his embrace and warmth. A sudden warmth of a kiss on your neck startles you, “What.. are you doing?” you question him, but make no effort to move away. He stops as he picks his head up, clearly a bit embarrassed.

You feel a surge of courage as you run your thumb over his knuckles, “and why did you stop?” You practically whisper to him as he seems shocked but only for a moment before he quickly buries his face back into your neck, kissing it hungrily.

He kisses and nibbles lightly, trying to find your sweet spot as he gouges for any reaction and when he sees your back arch lightly and a small moan comes from you, confirms he’s found exactly where he wants to be as he focuses on the one spot, nipping and kissing at it.

His hands move to caress your body and as he trails up your stomach, he stops directly below your chest as if waiting for your permission to touch you. “Go ahead.” Your confirmed consent immediately sends him into action as he gently caresses your beasts.

Small surges of pleasure flicker through you as he touches to his heart's content. You feel yourself getting wetter with every touch and you shuffle on his lap causing him to let out a small groan as his pants tighten, his erection growing.

He continues to fondle your breasts, now focusing on your hardened nipples, gently rolling them between his fingers. His mouth works on leaving bite and kiss marks on your neck, placing them deliberately where others would see as if to show your off limits.

He takes one of his hands and trails them down your stomach before sliding beneath your pants and rubbing your pussy, sliding up and down slowly, feeling how wet you are before he takes his hands out and begins to undo your pants.

Your pants come off with little struggle, leaving your lower half only in your panties before those are quickly pulled down too. His hands run up and down your bare thighs, almost worshipping you as he massages certain spots, focusing on giving you more pleasure than getting his own.

You can feel his achingly hard erection pressing against your ass and you reach your hands down to fumble with his belt for a few moments before unbuckling it. Your hands work on opening his fly and pulling down his boxers, freeing his cock. It’s much larger than you expected as it sits between your thighs.

His cock twitches with want as pre-cum slowly dribbles down from his tip. He’s flooded with lust and desperation yet he doesn’t handle you like a ruffian, instead he continues focusing on only making you feel good while fighting the urge to buck his hips.

An idea pops into your head as you squeeze your thighs together, rubbing his cock with your thighs and he shudders with pleasure. You slowly move your thighs up and down and you can hear his breathing become heavy while his hands grip onto your thighs.

You keep up with your thigh job as you increase your speed, moving your thighs up and down his cock faster or squeezing your thighs together. His breathing gets heavier as his grip increases, giving you the idea he’s close.

You let out a sudden squeak of surprise as he grabs your thighs to move them up and faster while he bucks his hips. More pre-cum drips from him as he ruts into your thighs, desperate for pleasure.

You're quite shocked at his sudden change but don’t mind it, as you let him move your thighs how he wants them. He lets out a loud groan as he thrusts up and cum spurts out from his cock and spills onto your thighs, making quite the mess.

He holds himself there as he comes down from his high and rubs your thighs gently as if non-verbally apologising for his momentary rough handling.

You quite liked how he handled you as your pussy drips with wetness and you open up your legs a bit to rub your pussy against his cock, giving him the hint.

He hooks his arms around your legs as he brings them up to the side of your head and puts his hands behind your head. His cock slowly rubs against your pussy, lubricating himself thoroughly before slowly sinking into you.

The stretch barely hurts as you bite your lip, muffling your moan of pleasure as you feel pleasantly stuffed from his girth. The pleasure only adds as how he holds you allows him to sheathe himself deep inside you, down to his balls.

He holds himself still within you, waiting for your confirmation.

“You can move.” You feel stretched out enough to let him comfortably thrust into you. He starts off gentle and slow, gouging your reaction for any signs of discomfort or pain but when he finds none he relaxes a bit and continues his thrusts.

His slow thrusts are quickly becoming obsolete to quench your lust, “Hunter, faster.. please” you whine and he obliges as he increases the speed and intensity of his thrusting, hitting the perfect spot in you.

You breathe heavily and moan as his cock hits your sweet spot over and over again but you simply need more and more. “Do-Don’t be shy,” you lightly tease him, “go faster.”

He begins to lose himself as he goes faster, his balls slapping against your sweaty, glistening skin. Drool begins to drip down your chin as you moan with every thrust and you can see a slight bulge in your lower stomach from his sheer girth.

You wonder if he’s transformed into some sort of beast as he practically ravages you like one. His teeth biting down hard onto your neck as he viciously ruts inside of you, slamming into your sweet spot as if it’s his only purpose.

Your walls clench around him as drool falls down your chin and sweat racks your smaller frame. You let out a loud moan as he hits your sweet spot a few more times and you finally reach your peak, squirting all over his cock as he simply keeps thrusting into you.

He groans into your neck as he feels your walls clench but he hasn’t finished yet as he continues to fuck you, your juices causing a lewd squealch each time he thrusted.

“Fu-Fuck, slow down!” You cry out as it's quickly becoming too much for you but your beg is lost on deaf ears. You moan out again as you feel yourself climax once more and you can feel your mind starting to go.

His thrusts begin to get sloppy and spaced out but he keeps fucking you, making you wonder just how much endurance he has. He’s more beast than man by now, only thinking of how perfectly he fits inside you and how he never wants this to end.

Another orgasm shoots through you as you can only babble out incoherent ramblings, your mind melting from the pleasure.

He lets out one last groan as he sheathes himself into you as far as he can, cumming inside you as he lazily thrusts to ride out his pleasure. His cum overflows as it spills out of you and onto him and the couch.

He holds himself in you for a moment before slowly taking out his cock with a wet ‘pop.’ Exhaustion plagues both of you but mostly you as your eyes flutter with tiredness and your mind struggles to regain its footing.

He notices how exhausted you are and he unhooks his arms from your legs to instead wrap them around your waist, dragging you down to lay with him on the couch, spooning you.

You can barely register what’s happening but you know you love the warmth wrapped around you as you let yourself be lulled to sleep.

The hunter takes out a new cloth and cleans up your sweaty face and messy thighs as you sleep before he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent before he too lets himself fall asleep where his dreams consisted of you.

Chapter Text

A/N: (Alternative title: Big lady, little man.)

The low light conditions of your dust covered room doesn’t really help your sulking, it’s been oh so long since a visitor ever even set foot within your bedchambers. Sometimes, you wonder why you never leave your own bedchambers to go search for company but whenever you try, you just can’t find the will to get up.

This greatly puts a damper on your overall mood, having never had company in years or having gotten out of your large bed. Even if your bed is particularly comfortable, cushioned with pillows perfected to your liking and blankets made specifically just for you. It’s becoming obsolete and boring just lying around or sleeping.

What feels like so long ago is when you remembered company, many knights and mages would flock here to join your covenant and serve you. You, of course, only asked for their company and stories of their adventures in exchange for your blessings.

Your blessings ranged in what the devotee specifically wanted, a powerful, enchanted sword, a scroll of knowledge, anything that could be thought of really. Your unique heritage allowed you to conjure these items seemingly out of thin air.

You fidget with a tassel upon one of your more royal pillows, one only meant to be decorative and show your royal blood with its blood red coloration and golden stitching. There’s nothing much you can do here. As your eyes slowly flutter with tiredness, preparing for another sleep, possibly ranging days, you hear.

Step, step, step.

Your head nearly shoots up as you wait for more noise, after a few moments of hearing nothing you are about to brush it off as some sort of hallucination conjured by your sheer loneliness. But, you hear footsteps again, one you could recognize anywhere, the footsteps of a knight! You recognize the specific clanking noises the metals of a knights armour would make due to just how many used to visit you.

A tiny light suddenly bursts its way into your room as the large doors to your bedchambers are slowly pushed open. You quickly adjust your lying position to be more upright and fix your hair to appear more regal.

It’s an Ashen One, a knight who is pushing open the doors to your chambers. He dawns the normal gear for a knight, though dented and scratched to show his perilous adventures. A large sword strapped to his hip, dried blood flecks staining it.

“Ah, an Ashen One. Come, hither forth let me see thee within the candlelight.” Your voice strains a bit due to lack of use but it retains its regal incandescence.

As the Ashen One makes his way to your bedside, the few remaining candles allow you to see him more clearly but there’s not much to see, only a few more dents and scratches within his armour.

When he reaches your bedside he has to crane his neck to look at your face, you don’t blame him as you are triple the size of him due to your royal blood and muddled heritage, one you know that a few goddesses have mingled in which most likely induced your growth.

He seems to recognize you, perhaps hearing of you within legend or passing story as he kneels and bows his head, holding out his hand to you.

Your heart jumps with joy, he wants to join your covenant! After so long of being on your lonesome and all your covenant members missing or deceased, having just one member makes you greatly happy. You reach down and touch the tip of your fingers on his palm and a little glow appears before vanishing, confirming his new allegiance.

“Ashen One, I presume thee wish for mine blessing.” He nods as you remember the other ways members of your covenant would deepen their allegiance, “For mine blessing, thee must bringeth me the Hearts Of Sinners.” You explain to the Ashen One, who doesn’t seem at all disturbed by the idea of carving someone’s heart out.

“Ten hearts is all I asketh of thee, bringeth them to me to receive mine blessing.” Using your ability you summon forth ten, unique, red eye orbs with black veins emerging from their eyes and give them to the Ashen One.

The Hearts Of Sinners were those who had killed one of your covenant members whilst invading. And you had discovered that taking these hearts would grant you more power, and vengeance. But, you couldn’t do it yourself, so you had made your members do it for you, many coming back with fresh, hardly beating hearts.

The Ashen One bows to you again before he walks a few steps away and takes one the orbs into his hand, crushing it and waiting a few moments before he’s absorbed by a flurry of red light, vanishing in an instant.

You settle back down on your bed, it’s comfortable pillows and blankets suddenly feeling even better now. All that there is to do is to wait for the Ashen One to come back, hopefully with ten or any hearts.

——-

Something pokes your nose as you sleep peacefully, having fallen asleep waiting for the Ashen Ones return. At first, you don’t react to it but the poking quickly becomes obnoxious as you bat your hand at it and mumble sleepily.

The poking doesn’t cease however and eventually you open your eyes to see the once silver, now red gauntlets of the Ashen One, attempting to awaken you.

“M..Mine apologises, Ashen One.” You quickly wake up, slightly embarrassed before you clear your throat and adjust yourself to lay in a more elegant position, “I presume thee has obtained the hearts?”

The Ashen One reaches into a bag tied to his hip and brings out a clearly fresh heart, still lightly beating. Blood stains his gauntlets, down to his elbows as he presents the heart to you, whoever the heart belonged to must have put up quite the fight to keep it but alas, all was for not.

You reach down to take the fresh heart from his offering hands. The fresher the heart, the better and you quickly crush it within your hand and a surge of familiar power courses through your veins. It’s been so long since you’ve felt it that you almost don't recognize it.

“Mine greatest thanks,” your gratitude is genuine, you haven’t felt this good in a long while. Company and a covenant member who made quick work of a sinner? It’s invigorating, you almost feel as if you're dreaming and are due to wake up soon.

The Ashen One remains silent, stoic like many that you have seen so this doesn’t really bother you but you would prefer if your company could share stories. Alas, you would not force him. He reaches into his pouch again, pulling out more hearts for you to take.

“Ashen One, thee are most generous.” You take more of the hearts he offers you, crushing them with your hands yet leaving no mess as you absorb their power. You momentarily wonder how he got all of them so fast but it doesn’t matter anymore, the sinners are vanquished and your previous covenant members avenged.

As you crush the final, tenth heart in your hand and absorb its power, you feel the surge of just enough power to cast a blessing without strain.

You let out a breath of refreshment, having not felt any strain when using your ability in a long time. You look down to the Ashen One with a small smile, “Thee hath proven to me of thee’s devotion. Please, state your blessing and I shall bestow it upon thee.”

The Ashen One seems to think but only for a moment before he looks up at you and simply points at… you?

“Apologies, Ashen One but i do not understand.” You tilt your head curiously.

He points at you again before he puts his hand down and approaches your bedside, stopping just at its border before putting his hands on your bed and gouging your reaction.

You stare at him with more confusion than anything else, was he trying to climb into your bed?

Your prediction is correct as he lifts himself up and onto your bed, struggling a bit before he pulls himself completely on. He gouges your reaction again but sees no aggression or discomfort.

He makes a bold move as he suddenly begins to climb over you, intent on getting behind you. You watch with bemusement as he climbs, wondering what he intends to do.

“Thou’rt a bold one,” you comment as he grabs your thighs to hoist himself over and finally get behind you. You can’t really see what he’s doing due to where he’s at.

You let out a sudden gasp of surprise as you feel his small hands grab at your ass and you flinch a bit. So, that’s what he wanted and what he meant by simply pointing at you.

You’ve come across many members who wanted to climb into your bed when your covenant was alive and bustling. No one could blame them really, due to your sheer size you were particularly blessed in the front and back and you’d often catch some members staring.

You rejected all of them due to having to keep your royal status high and mighty but now, you don’t reject the Ashen One as he fondles your behind. Your royal status is obsolete by now, so there is no reason in rejecting what you want.

The Ashen One continues to fondle your ass for a bit before he stops and you can feel his hands paw around your thighs before trying to physically move your leg up. Of course, he’s much too small to lift anything but you lift your leg by your own accord, wondering just what he plans to do.

He lifts up his helmet but you can’t see his face due to where he’s at but you can see the visor lifted up. His hands tug at the cloth acting as your underwear. He manages to slip them down enough to expose you to him.

His hands slide against your wetting pussy and a shiver crawls up your spine. Even if he’s much smaller than you, he could still please you with his hands or mouth. His hands slowly work on riling you up as they ghost against your pussy or he slides a finger across.

You're quickly becoming impatient as he keeps up with his feathery touches and you need more. “Cease thy teasing.” You order him and he gladly and almost immediately follows your order as you feel a kiss placed upon your clit before a tongue begins to lick.

Pleasure flicks through your body and travels up your spine as you enjoy the Ashen Ones actions, he is quickly becoming your favourite covenant member.

His tongue licks at your clit greedily, greatly enjoying what he deemed his blessing. Your taste upon his tongue as he pleases his new object of worship. He’s only showing his devotion as a member of your covenant, in his own way of course.

A muffled moan escapes you as he continues to worship and please you to the best of his ability. A small knot forms in your lower stomach as you use your ankle to gently push him further into you and non-verbally urge him to pick up his speed.

He steadies himself with his hands on your inner thighs and abides by your small command, kissing and licking at your clit faster. Making you squirm as sweat begins to form on your forehead.

“Ah, Ashen One. T-Thee art skilled.” You lightly praise him, “Thee shall receive a reward, aft..after this.” You already know what you want to give him, what any man would want. To be squashed into your breasts for as long as he wants.

The knot on your stomach begins to tighten and enlarge as your clit becomes more sensitive with your approaching orgasm. With every lick and kiss he praised you which caused you to let out louder and louder moans. Your leg gently pushes him to continue as it quakes with anticipation.

He almost seems to know you're approaching your peak as he sticks to licking your clit, fluttering with his tongue. He greatly enjoys every noise you make in response to his tongue, he drinks it all in, every moan and muffled cry only encourages him.

The knot is unbearable as you convulse with need and pleasure, finally reaching your orgasm as you throw your head back and cry out in a final, racking moan.

You breathe heavily as your legs twitch, you haven’t felt this release in so long and finally getting it after many years caused the earth-racking orgasm from all your years of being pent up. Your skin is sweaty and shiny as you slowly come down from your high.

The Ashen One backs up as he pulls down his visor, covering his face once more before he clambers over your exhausted form to get to your front.

“Oh, dear me. Mine apologies, dear Ashen One.” You state as you notice he’s quite drenched in your fluids but he doesn’t seem to care at all. You reach behind you and pick up an old blanket, one you don’t use anymore. It may not be a towel but it’s all you have.

You throw the blanket over the Ashen One and thoroughly clean him, nearly handling him like a rag doll but you remember to be careful with humans as they aren’t very durable. He’s squeaky clean when you're done with him and you throw the blanket to the ground, you wouldn't want that on your bed for a while.

“As I hath stated before, I shall reward thee.” You nearly coo at him, already loving your new covenant member. Of course, you loved all your members but since he’s the only one, you give him special attention.

He seems excited, although it’s hard to tell due to his masked face but it’s your best guess as he leans into you a bit, awaiting your reward.

You gently start to pull him into your chest. He jumps a bit but quickly realises what you're doing and relaxes, welcoming it. Moments later, he is squashed in between your large breasts and he thoroughly enjoys it as he nestles in, warm and toasty.

You laugh lightly as he makes himself comfortable, how predictable man could be. You make sure he’s not in any danger of being accidentally squished by you as you, yourself get comfortable in your bed. Your hands gently pat him on top of the head, lulling him to a groggy state. You yawn tiredly as you fall asleep before him, a smile on your face.

His own eyes flutter tiredly beneath his helmet as sleep threatens to claim him. He could get rather used to this, a nice big lady with good assets for him to sleep on is simply the dream. Your pleasantly warm too, which adds onto your already long list of positive attributes.

He lets himself fall asleep, finally feeling safe for once in this hostile world. When he wakes up, he’ll have the best bragging rights and a new bed to sleep in whenever he needs to relax.

Chapter Text

Warnings: not a happy ending. Kinda long. (It takes 7k words for Artorias to man up and confess and the entire fic is 10k words)

Artorias had heard of you, of course. Who wouldn't? You were a strange woman, one found on the very outskirts of Lordran wielding a massive sword, double your size which apparently was reinforced with a dragon's tooth and scales.

It was Gwyn that had found you and taken you back to Lordran and to Anor Londo. He has been made aware of your existence when traders and occasionally knights of Lordran would come to report strange activity.

Many people disappearing, only to turn up dead outside of camps, ripped apart like an animal got to them. Camps and wagons set ablaze in the night. A strange screaming or almost snarling sound emanating from the woodworks that followed them. Deep depressions within the ground clearly made by a large sword and human footprints nearby.

Gwyn had originally brushed it off as it was not important to him, but the consistent nagging of many had eventually worn his patience down and he sent a squadron of fine knights to slay whatever was in the woods. The squadron returned as a solo party, only one knight returning and in terrible condition.

His arm having been sliced clean off and a massive wound starting from his face and going all the way down to his stomach. He did not survive his wounds for very long, only surviving long enough to tell Gwyn of their failure and what he had seen.

Apparently, with what Artorias heard, they were searching for the ‘beast’ or person and were ambushed by a screaming, snarling shadow with a sword the size of a dragon's tooth. It was ruthless and violent, and scarily stealthy as it picked off the knights in the back before anyone noticed and when they did notice, it was far too late.

By then, Gwyn’s patience was completely worn out as he decided himself that he would take his finest silver knights with him to go and slay the creature. The mighty Gwyn himself heading to the forest to slay a beast has caused quite the murmur in Lordran. Just what could be so powerful that thee! Gwyn had to deal with it?

As it turns out, it was you that had caused the mighty Gwyn to come out from Anor Londo and to the outskirts of Lordran.

You had hardly made yourself known as you picked off a few silver knights in Gwyn’s group. Ripping their heads straight off before they could make the slightest sound and dragging their bodies off into the woods. It took taking four of them for one of the knights to raise an alarm.

That’s when Gwyn had prepared for a fight and wielded his flaming sword while his knights circled around him, checking every direction for any disturbance or sign of the beast.

In that moment you had made yourself known to them, as seeing that you had no other choice but to face them directly. The surviving knights had described you back then as some sort of snarling beast wielding a gigantic sword, double your height and triple your weight as if it was nothing despite your smaller stature.

Your armour or rather, scraps of clothing was sullied with blood and grime and looked as if it were singed by fire long ago. Your hair was massively overgrown, unkempt and tangled. You didn’t speak at all even when Gwyn had attempted to speak to you, instead, only responding in animalistic screams and growls as you attacked headfirst.

Gwyn, surprisingly, had a tough time with you. Your small frame allowed you to slip under his attacks or weave around him and his knights. The gigantic sword you carried was no bluff either as the ground nearly quaked everytime you slashed and missed the knight you were aiming for.

At the end of it, you had put up quite the fight but not enough to slay Gwyn, only to hinder and slightly injure him. His squadron of twelve knights having been reduced to five, the few remaining retaining horrific scars. You were ultimately defeated and when you thought he was going to end you, Gwyn, instead saw potential within you.

Gwyn had spared your life that day and it turned out to be for the greater good. He had instead taken you back to Lordran with him and put you into some sort of rehabilitation or so Artorias had heard.

Apparently, you couldn’t speak that much and it was only in broken, strained words with a limited vocabulary. You were very aggressive, Infact overly aggressive towards anyone and anything that moved, even your own caretakers.

It had taken nearly an entire year and a few lives of some caretakers but you had finally been taught to speak properly yet your aggression problem had only been slightly quelled, but at least people were able to be in your line of sight as long as they didn’t get too close.

Your sword had been confiscated from you when you were brought to Lordran and its materials were studied. But when questions about how you obtained such material and who fashioned it, you wouldn’t answer and simply turn away stating that you, ‘wouldn’t speak of it unless it is returned to you.’

Alas your sword was never returned to you but instead you were given more training and rehabilitation. It took another year and an extra half to finally ‘civilise’ you from the wild animal you once were and your previous identity was practically lost entirely.

Your first public appearance had been made and many were clambering to get a look at the once wild animal now turned into a functional member of their society. Many didn’t even recognize you as they were looking for a more wild looking person but only finding a small, feminine knight clad in high-ranking armour and wielding a decently large sword but not the one from the rumours, to the disappointment from the crowd.

You had been stationed next to Gwyn in your public appearance, acting as his own personal guard much to the confusion of many as he did have his own guards, the four knights of Gwyn but none were to be found.

Artorias remembers that day clearly, he and the other knights had been instructed to stay behind in the shadows and follow slowly and to especially keep an eye on you as Gwyn had said, you were still undergoing some training and could lash out in a violent rage at any time.

He, despite being known as the strongest of Gwyn’s knights, had felt a chill of fear run up his spine which was validated by the others upon seeing your eerily calm form standing guard next to Gwyn.

Gwyn that day, had shared news that shocked the crowd and especially the four knights. You would be joining their ranks. Ornstein, as their captain, was understandably against this.

So, when Ornstein was called to meet you. Artorias was strangely off put, expecting for him to come back with some sort of horror story or a new dent in his armour. But when he came back with a positive review and praise, it had greatly confused Artorias.

One by one, the other knights were all called in to meet their newest member. Ciaran had come back nearly glowing with happiness and stating just how ‘friendly’ and ‘competent’ you were and how you’d be an excellent addition to their group.

Gough had seemed happy after his meeting with you, at least with what Artorias could tell from the giant. Gough had told him about how you never talked to, or acted differently just because he was a giant but instead had struck up quite the conversation.

Artorias remembers when he was called in to meet you.

————————

Artorias had been called by Gwyn. This was it, he was going to meet the ‘wild’ woman who was to be joining The Knights of Gwyn and fight side by side with him and the others.

He takes a breather before opening the large doors to your room, one’s that had been clearly chained shut and barricaded some time ago but now bare.

He looks around the large room before his eyes land on a woman, you, sitting on a chair and staring right at him.

“Ah, you must be Sir Artorias?” You ask, your voice surprisingly calm where he expected it to be like a rampaging beast.

“Indeed, it is a pleasure to meet thee.” He walks closer to you to talk to you properly as he keeps his formal way of speaking.

You stand up and extend your hand out for him to take, “No need for such formalities, Sir Artorias, you can relax around me.”

He takes your hand into his and gives it a firm shake. He’s still a bit tentative, “apologies, but I would much prefer to retain my formality.”

“Well I won’t force you.” You pause before speaking again, “I am, (Name) I’m sure you must have heard of me before? Perhaps in rumour? Don’t worry, I’m not going to tear your limbs off.” You smile and laugh, attempting to make light of the situation.

“I sure hope thou dost not.” He comments and doesn’t really know where to take it from there.

You tilt your head and examine him, and many ideas of how to continue your conversation with him and help him trust you flood your mind, “Sir Artorias, I’d quite like to know of your swordsmanship and skill. I’ve heard of you plenty a times, Infact, I’m quite excited to finally meet you.”

Artorias wonders just what you’re doing before he responds, “How would thou liketh to see my skill?” He asked, confused on just how he would show it to you. There’s nothing in this room for him to practise on and he’s quite stiff with nervousness.

You smile, “Simple, I’d like to challenge you to a spar.”

———————

Needless to say, Artorias had accepted, feeling excitement at the thought of seeing you in action and fighting against you to test his own skill.

His sword swings through the air as he attempts to hit you but missing by the skin of your teeth as you weave around the sword as if it were nothing. Your own sword being carried with you with just one hand despite its size. Even if it’s not the sword in the rumours, you're still it’s wielder and your still dangerous even without your original sword.

You land gracefully as you swing around and hit Artorias in the back of his knee causing him to stumble but he quickly recovers as he whips around to face you.

He, so far, had managed to hit you just a handful of times whereas you had hit him countless of times but due to his sheer endurance and stubbornness he remained up.

“Thou art skilled with your blade.” He comments as you both circle each other.

“So are you, Sir Artorias. You’ve already given me quite the impression.” You praise him before dashing forward and attempting to hit him but being met with your sword clashing against his.

You're in a small stalemate as your own strength and his fight against each other. Your swords shaking as they both attempt to overpower the other and claim victory.

Even if he towers over you, you aren’t intimidated at all as you look up at him and smile fiercely, “There’s no shame in backing out.”

“Never.”

“Suit yourself.”

You suddenly let your strength drop and Artorias is caught off guard as his own strength causes his sword to plunge downwards and miss you as you dash around him and strike at his back.

He lets out a grunt of pain before jumping away and facing you again. Sweat begins to form on his body from exhaustion and on yours too as the spar rages on for an entire hour. Both of you are too stubborn to accept defeat.

You jump up and slam down your sword on Artorias as his reaction is delayed and he is slammed to the ground by the sheer force of you coming down on him.

You breathe heavily as your sword is implanted deep into the ground, right next to Artorias’s head. You're straddled on top of him, keeping him down, “I win.” Your simple statement concludes the sparring match as you stumble to get off of him.

He gets up and rubs his sore shoulder as he recovers from the intense spar. He turns to you and some strange fascination blooms in his heart. He sees why his peers had such fond words of you.

Artorias, after that, had quickly become your closest friend within The Knights of Gwyn.

———————-

You yawn tiredly as you continue walking next to Artorias. So far, your journey had spanned days of countless, boring walking and occasionally settling down to camp.

“Are you tired?” Artorias inquired as he looks down at you but obviously knowing the answer.

“No.” You stubbornly reject his, oh so, preposterous idea of you being tired in the slightest. Truth is, you are indeed very tired both physically and in the sleepy way.

“You're nodding off while walking, (Name).” He states, pointing out your heavy eyelids and your decreased walking speed. Ever since he had become your closest friend, his speech had become less formal and more of a relaxed tone.

“I’m just resting my eyes.” You make up the excuse for your fluttering eyelids, “it’s hard work keeping them open all day and out in the sun.”

Artorias hums as he already knows what he must do. He scopes out the area, noting a small pond and a cover of trees. That’s the perfect spot to set up camp. “We’re stopping here. It’s getting late, we must set up our camp.”

He’s mostly stating the truth, it is rather late and both of you have been walking for quite a while, the whole day In Fact. But he knows he’s making the decision to stop earlier than usual due to your tiredness.

You groan, “Artorias, we still have two hours of sunlight left.” You point out, wanting to use every second of available daylight to finally make your way to Oolacile.

A/N: (I know Oolacile is like right below Anor Londo, but it’s for plot!!! Go along with it)

You and Artorias had been selected to be sent to Oolacile to stave off what Gwyn and the Oolacilians called ‘the abyss.’ You remember that day, because it was only five days ago, but you remember it fondly due to finally being given your original sword back. You had proudly shown it off to Artorias the moment it was given to you, and he was quite fascinated with it and happy for you. After the meeting you wondered what exactly ‘the abyss’ is but you’re sure it won’t be much of a threat.

He doesn’t acknowledge your whine as he turns right and heads for the area he had spotted. Of course, you had to follow him no matter what and you begrudgingly did so.

“We could be using this time to get closer to Oolacile, by then we could only be a few hours away before we really have to stop. If we stop now it’ll take the entirety of tomorrow to get there.” You explain but Artorias ignores your stubborn self, which irks you a bit and he knows it does and he also knows it’s the best way to get you to calm faster if he lets you brood for an hour.

Artorias begins to set up the small makeshift camp as he unpacks the heavy bag thrown over his shoulder. You had offered numerous times to carry it but he refused to give it to you vehemently no matter what, stating that it weighs nothing to him and he didn’t want to burden you.

“How rude of you, Artorias. Ignoring your friend.” You ‘humpf’ as you begin your usual brooding routine which includes calling Artorias ‘rude’ and refusing to speak to him or look at him.

He sets up his side of the camp haphazardly as he begins to set up your side with much more care and precision. He sets up your makeshift bed in a way he knows you like and secretly takes one of his own two pillows and puts it in your bed instead. He doesn’t mind only having one pillow, just as long as you're comfortable.

He sees you still brooding and refusing to face him, “I’ve made your bed. Are you coming?” He asks but you remain in stubborn quietness, ignoring him. He’s unsure why but as of late, he’s been hating whenever you ignore him. At first, he didn’t mind it but now it feels oddly terrible to be ignored by you.

Artorias slumps his shoulders with a small sigh before resting his and your own sword, although with some struggle in moving it, against a nearby tree. He turns to you again, “Goodnight.” Is all he says as he settles into his own bed.

Before he falls asleep he hears the familiar clank of your armour approaching your own bed and the clunk of your armour being taken off. He rests more easily as he hears you settle into the bed he made for you.

Sleep claims him and his last, conscious thoughts are of you.

———————-

Artorias stirs in his sleep as he slowly awakens to the dark of midnight. He wonders what exactly woke him up before he notices the orange light of a campfire. He props himself up to look and notices you, sitting next to a campfire you had assembled most likely sometime in the night. Your back turned to him.

“(Name)? What are you doing awake?” His question makes you gasp in surprise as you didn’t realise he had awoken and you turn to him.

“Oh, Artorias.” You mumble out, “I’m sorry for waking you, I didn’t mean to.” Your voice sounds more down-trodden than your usual optimistic and stubborn self and Artorias notices this immediately.

Concern etches into Artorias mind as he gets out of his bed to sit across from you at the campfire. Your knees are pulled up and your arms are wrapped around them as you stare into the flickering flames you’ve made.

“Something is troubling you.” He states suddenly and that makes you flick your eyes to look at him.

“No, nothing is.” Your response is harsher than you meant It to be. Artorias knows your stubbornness but he won’t give up.

“No, I know when you have troubles.” He shuffles a bit closer to you, concerned for your mental well-being, “please, tell me what ails you.”

You wonder if you should really tell him as you stare back into the familiar crackling and dancing flames. You sigh as you make your decision, “fine, I do have some troubles.” You admit, still remaining stubborn and not admitting what exactly troubles you.

Artorias shuffles a bit closer again, “And what are these troubles?” He knows how to slowly open up your stubborn shell as he speaks softly and doesn’t pester you.

You sigh as you look at him again, “I never told you of my past right?” You know he’s heard of rumours revolving around your past, that you were raised by wolves or dragons or you had come from another kingdom.

“No, you haven’t.” He shakes his head as he continues to listen to you.

“Well…” you take a deep breath, “it’s just that, that’s troubling me tonight. I presume it’s being out under the stars that has me remembering.” You seemingly end your sentence but Artorias knows he doesn’t have to say anything to get you to continue.

“When I was a kid, I lived in a village on the outskirts of Lordran.” You begin to explain and Artorias listens intently, “it was a quaint and nice little village. Everything was perfect.”

Memories of your past, chasing other children your age as they laughed and yelled with delight and tending to farm animals or being a pesky child, flood into your mind.

“Was, that is, until I turned eight years old. That’s when everything fell apart. One day, when I was adventuring the woods my village was attacked by a dragon.” You admit to him, “it was burned to nothing but ash and everyone, my family, my friends were reduced to burnt flesh.” You still remember the sight of the burning village, the way the cruel fire danced and almost waved at you as figures of burning people scream in agony.

Artorias has moved closer to you, sitting next to you by now as he continues to listen.

“When the fire finally died later that night, I scavenged whatever I could and that’s when I found the tooth of the dragon and pieces of its scale.” Your eyes flicker to your gigantic sword resting against the tree. “But, now that everything I’ve ever known was nothing but memory now, I had to fend for myself.”

A tear falls down your cheek, “I had to raise myself in the woods, barely getting enough food for days and scavenging old carcasses.” The memories of how you turned into a feral beast are painful, “I-I’m sorry, Artorias. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

You never want to be that beast again.

Artorias’s heart aches with sadness as he sees the tear and how you apologised to him for simply explaining your woes. He gently takes your chin into his hand as he uses his thumb to wipe the tear from your cheek and turn you to look at him.

“There is no need to apologise, I asked and I received.” He states, “thank you, for sharing this with me.” He nearly whispers as you sniffle and try to stop yourself from crying. You feel strange, even if he’s been your closest friend, you haven’t been so vulnerable around him.

He makes a bold move as he pulls you into his embrace and rubs your back as you hiccup and cry into his chest. He holds you for a long while, allowing you to cry and grieve those lost long ago as his heart aches with every pained hiccup coming from you.

You finally start to calm down as your eyes are red and puffy. You're far too tired to really register how Artorias holds you so gently, “I’m sorry, Artorias.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his chest. He’s confused on what you’re apologising for before you continue, “for today, I shouldn’t have ignored you for something minuscule.”

He pats your back, “no, I understand your frustrations with me at that time. There is no need to apologise.” He notices just how tired you are as you're nearly falling asleep on his chest.

He gently picks you up, bridal style, being careful not to disturb you as he walks over to your bed and places you in it. Making sure your head is placed comfortably on your pillows and your blanket is snug over you. He turns around and just as he’s about to make his way to his own bed he hears your tired voice.

“Artorias… please, stay with me.” Your hand reaches out for him.

He freezes at your request, you want him to lay with you? This had to be some sort of dream or perhaps he misheard you but when he turns to look at you and sees your outstretched hand, he knows he’s awake and has heard you correctly.

He doesn’t need to say anything as he walks over and settles behind you, spooning and cuddling you as you snuggle into him. His heart nearly bursts and he wonders, why? You're only his friend and a knight alongside him.

You fall asleep nearly immediately when he settles into your bed and spoons you, his warmth is so comforting and his embrace makes you feel even safer.

Artorias watches your sleeping form cuddled up against him and he feels oddly complete, as if he was missing a piece of himself and you fit it just right. His eyelids grow heavy and he falls asleep, resting easy with you in his embrace.

—————-

The morning sun begins to shine and awakens Artorias before you. He slowly awakens and makes sure to be extra careful as he gets up and out of your bed to get himself ready for the day. Strangely, he feels more rested than ever before.

The campfire you had set up had long extinguished some time in the night as only the smouldering, dying branches remained.

He donned his armour and carefully manoeuvred around the camp so as to not make much noise. It felt like every step and clink of his armour was louder than usual. Before, he never thought much of making too much noise, aware that you are a heavy sleeper but now, he’s strangely compelled to be as quiet as possible even if there’s little to no threat of waking you.

He looks back at your sleeping form and decides it’s time to get up and walks over, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently shaking you awake.

You stir lightly as you feel the sensation of cold metal on your shoulder and being nudged. At first you try to ignore it and bat it away but a voice breaking the silence makes you open your eyes.

“(Name) we have to get up if we want to get to Oolacile by sundown.”

You open your eyes and find Artorias was the one who was nudging you, “oh, good morning, Artorias.” You say, your voice croaky and strained from sleep. You slowly get up and stretch, cracking a few bones in the process.

He backs up and collects his sword resting on the tree, sheathing it upon his back where he usually keeps it. He begins to pack up the camp materials and supplies back into the heavy bag while you get ready, putting your armour on and collecting your sword.

He slugs the bag over his shoulder as you finish getting yourself ready. “Let us set out. If our path is non-obstructed we could get to Oolacile an hour before sundown.” Artorias explains as he begins to walk and you quickly follow after him, having to jog a bit due to how long his strides are.

You and him continue your walk in silence. The only noise being the clinking of armour and the items moving around in the bag over his shoulder.

“Artorias.” You address him suddenly, “I just, um, wanted to thank you, for last night.” Oddly, your face feels as if it’s heating up just remembering how he cuddled you so gently and how safe you felt.

Artorias coughs, an obviously fake cough, before he responds to you, “Your thanks is not needed, I was only doing what a friend should.” Saying the word ‘friend’ sends an odd sting of pain to his heart and he nearly flinches.

You smile up at him, a sight he never knew he wished to see, “you’re a great friend, Artorias. I’m glad I’ve met you.”

Again, his heart feels as if it’s being constricted by a horrible grip of pain as you call him your friend. But he manages to ignore it and speaks.

“You’re a great friend too.”

——————

Your path to Oolacile had mostly been obstructed by fallen trees that caused you and Artorias to have made a detour or two. But these detours didn’t take up much of your time and by the time the sun begins to set, Oolacile is on its horizon.

“Finally,” you breathe a sigh of relief as you and Artorias pass through the city's entrance way, “now we can finally do our duty.” Your hand flexes as the instinct to fight flared up by just remembering your and Artorias’s duty of fending off the abyss.

“Yes, we just need to find a suitable place to set up our camp. Preferably away from the citizens, we wouldn’t want to scare them.” Artorias suggests as you both walk into the main city, many citizens already ogling and whispering about the appearance of the two strange knights in their city.

A few citizens appear frightened, especially the young children as they hide behind their parents legs or run off into alleyways. Some children catch your eye as you can see they look worse for wear.

Their heads are strangely bloated and bandaged up and many parts of their body u had mistaken their skin for their clothes as it was wrapped near entirely in bandages, blending in with their clothing. A few seem to even be coughing up black sludge. The adults were no better but there seemed to be less of them.

Just as you're about to ask Artorias if he sees the strange children and people, a citizen runs up to both of you, looking elated and relieved.

“Finally! Our call for help has been answered!” The civilian nearly cries out in happiness, “you’ve come to repel the abyss, what a joyous day this is!”

All eyes are on you and Artorias as the civilian yells out just what your here for, now, instead of weary stares they are ones of admiration and hope but that also means they aren’t afraid to keep their distance anymore.

Civilians swarm both of you and many questions and pleads are thrown out, most of them being lost in the sea of words but you could make out a few.

“Saviours! What a glorious day!”

“Please, could you help us? The abyss is rotting our home”

“Finally, we can rest easy now.”

“I recognize them, their knights of Gwyn!”

Many hands attempt to grab at you due to your smaller frame matching most of theirs, all of them pleading with you to help them first. Artorias however had less grabbing hands due to his height and size, as many had been too intimidated to try.

Artorias notices your distress and attempts to make the civilians back off, “Clear the way! We must perform our duties!” He says in his most knightley voice but his attempt is ignored by most civilians as they continue to nearly drag you away.

He takes a bold move as he reaches down and grabs you, lifting you up with little effort and then carrying you bridal style, safe and away from any grabbing hands. He begins to make his way through the sea of civilians with you in his arms.

You let out a small gasp of shock as he lifts you but quickly realise he’s only trying to help and you let yourself be carried away from the crowd in his arms. A few civilians look at you and Artorias, and you could swear you heard some whisper about how ‘chivalrous’ your partner, Artorias, was and just how lucky you were.

The thought of Artorias being your romantic partner made your heart flutter strangely and your face heat up in that familiar blush. You don’t have much time to ruminate on your strange feelings as you feel him gently let you down and onto the grassy ground.

Artorias had taken you to the outer rims of Oolacile, onto a cliff facing over Oolacile itself. The sheer sight is beyond beautiful as your bewitched by it immediately. You can see the entirety of Oolacile from here, every tower and home against the setting sun. The setting sky was a beautiful orange fading into a purple and eventually dark where you could see the beginnings of stars.

You squint your eyes as you notice strange patches of darkness creeping up a few buildings and what even looked like a missing chunk of city, only a gaping black hole left in its place.

“This shall be our campsite.” Artorias says as he's more interested in setting up camp and getting to work immediately and early next morning. “Tomorrow we will venture to the abyss and free Oolacile.” He sounds gravely determined and you know just how determined he can be.

“Let’s hope this ‘abyss’ will go without much problem.” You comment and turn around to help set up your side of the camp but Artorias stops you with an extended hand.

“I will do it.” He says as he begins to do just exactly that, setting up your bed in the way he knows you like and discreetly making it a bit larger for a second person to fit in. He doesn’t exactly know why he did but it felt right.

You tilt your head as you lift your brow. You’ve noticed Artorias’s strange behaviour as of the latest months. He’d never let you do anything yourself and he’d always do it for you even if it’s a minuscule task. He’d always be sitting next to you or brushing against you much more than normal. He even challenged you to more spars in the latest months.

“Artorias, you’ve been acting strange.” You have no problem with stating his change and he stiffens, “is something the matter?”

Artorias doesn’t know why but, he can’t bare to turn around and face you as he continues to carefully set up your side of camp. He doesn’t know why he’s been compelled to act so strange either, he has a hard time to think of what to say, “I suppose I’ve been tense lately. Our duty to Oolacile and the abyss has been weighing on my mind.”

He mostly lies but a bit of truth lies within, he was oddly tense when thinking of Oolacile but he couldn’t tell why he was acting so chivalrous and clingy as of late.

You decide not to pry as he finishes setting up your bed and you walk over to it, “Thanks, Artorias.” You thank him as you begin to take off your armour and drop your sword to the ground.

You get yourself comfortable in the bed not noticing the third pillow he had given you but it surely adds to your comfort. The hard ground isn’t the best bed after all. All the hours of walking today exhausted you greatly and your eyes became heavy. Just before you fall asleep you mumble, “Goodnight.”

Artorias says his own goodnight as he settles onto his bed.

———-

Hours pass and Artorias has not gotten a moment of sleep. He’s been thinking, thinking of you as he stares at your peaceful sleeping form, gently breathing in and out.

His heart had felt that all too familiar feeling of being constricted as if it’s suffocating whenever he looked at you. He wonders just why he feels like this as he questions himself over and over but never finding the answer.

He stares up into the stars as he reminisces on shared memories with you. His first meeting with you. The shared laughter with you and the secret inside jokes you had made with him. Your sparring matches with him where you’d usually have him pinned to the ground but he does remember when he’d be the one on top of you at times.

He remembers when he was talking to Ciaran once and she said something that oddly rattled him.

He has been talking about you to Ciaran a few months ago, practically gushing over you and praising you with every breath. That’s when Ciaran hushed him and said, “You sound like you're in love with her.”

His heart tightens horribly as he finally comes to the realisation and he visibly flinches. Love, he loves you.

All those dreams of just you and him together, or how he had felt an odd spark of jealousy whenever another man would get too close to you. How he would think of you multiple times a day and how much he wanted to see you.

He looks back at you with admiring eyes as he’s finally realised just how madly he’s been in love with you for so long and how long he had unknowingly suppressed these feelings, making them grow stronger and faster.

An idea brews into his head, he remembers seeing a vendor selling flowers when he was carrying you to the cliff side. Perhaps, you would recuperate his feelings? And what better than to give you a bouquet of the best flowers he can get.

He knows how fast and straightforward and most likely his unexpected confession that he’s already planning for tomorrow. But something gives him the feeling that this will be his only chance and he should use it.

Artorias, finally at peace with himself, settles back into his bed and falls asleep.

————-

Artorias wakes up before the sun has fully risen and before you. Despite having less hours of sleep he is mostly riddled with nervousness and excitement.

The grass and leaves of the trees are covered in beautiful morning dew, reflecting the little light from the rising sun as he slowly, yet carefully gets up. Putting his armour on but leaving his sword resting by yours, he won’t be needing it for what he wishes to do.

He turns and begins to make his way to the centre of Oolacile where vendors are just setting up their wares and stands to sell for the day. He scours the many vendors trying to find the stand that was selling the beautiful flowers he had seen yesterday.

Many vendors eye him for a few moments before returning to setting up their stands, they look almost relieved.

He begins to wonder if the flower vendor he had seen was just a trick of his eye due to how fast he was walking. So far, he has had no luck in finding the vendor or even any hints of them.

He begins to lose hope in finding the vendor, perhaps he could just settle with finding wild flowers and giving them to you. But he considered that they wouldn’t be perfectly well-groomed and specially grown like a flower vendors would be.

As he’s about to give up, he notices a splash of brilliant colour and his heart skips a beat. He’s found the vendor, at last. And they seem to have a fresh stock of flowers available.

He makes his way to the vendor, who is in a more hidden spot. When he arrives he notices that the vendor is an old, kind looking man. The old man could clearly not walk without great difficulty and had bandages encasing the entire length of his arm, and a strange black vein on his bald head.

“Ah, what brings a Knight of Gwyn to my stall I wonder.” He muses as he takes his place behind the run-down yet beautiful stall.

Artorias doesn’t feel like telling him exactly why, “I’m here to see.” Is all he says as he begins to look at the freshest flowers. Beautiful, red roses, purple and pink hydrangeas, carnations and practically glowing marigolds.

The choices are far too much for Artorias to choose one as his mind flickers in and out of scenarios with different flowers and perhaps how you’d react.

He presents you with blood red roses, their thorns cut off personally by him. Yet his mind only conjures your rejection, maybe roses are far too common for your taste.

He presents you with purple and pink hydrangeas but yet again, rejection. He’s never seen you wear any pink or purple clothing so maybe you wouldn’t like the colour.

He presents you with carnations. Again, your rejection plays in his mind. Maybe you didn’t like the array of colours they came in.

He presents you with the glowing marigolds. Rejection once more. Perhaps you didn’t like how bright they were.

The old man watches as Artorias has his inner battle. He’s seen this all before, a nervous and indecisive young suiter attempting to woo a woman with flowers but unable to pick one. He knows exactly what to do.

“You’re attempting to court the lass that was with you yesterday, are you not?” The old man asks with a smile.

Artorias flinches and is thrown back to reality from his daydreams to talk to the vendor, how did he find out so easily? “Well, if you must know. Indeed I am.” He admits as he knows it’s practically no use to lie from this strangely intelligent old man.

“Yes, yes I saw it on you.” The old man laughs, his voice oddly strained with a slight gurgle towards its end, “I’ve seen it all before.” He explains as he hobbles around his stall, picking up numerous flowers.

Artorias watches as the old man bends over to pick up a hidden bouquet of roses, their thorns having already been plucked and they look fresh, as if cut just minutes ago.

“Here, take this.” The old man offers the bouquet to Artorias who hesitantly takes it, still wavering on what flowers you’d like but he knows that this experienced man must know the ins and outs.

Artorias’s heart is racing as he examines the bouquet, it’s nearly perfect in every way the only strange thing about it is a black vein creeping up one rose. It’s far too small for Artorias to worry about it.

“My thanks.” He says, masking his nervousness and excitement before he reaches into his pouch, picking up some coins to offer them to the vendor.

“No, it is free.” The old man rejects his payment with a hand wave, “think of it as another thanks for soon saving Oolacile from the abyss.” The old man says with hope.

Artorias simply nods before he turns and quickly walks through the now bustling crowd of customers and vendors, being careful not to cause the slightest of damage to the bouquet.

As he approaches the campsite on the cliff he notices you awake and sitting, facing away from him as you sharpen your sword. This is it and he feels it will be his only chance.

————-

You sit on the soft grass with your massive sword splayed across your lap. Today you’ll face the abyss and see what kind of opponent it is so you decide for your own safety, to sharpen your blade.

The whetstone you use causes small sparks to fly off the blade as you bring it back and forth with some force. The ‘shing!’ noises the whetstone makes masks the approaching footsteps of Artorias.

“(Name.)”

The sudden utterance of your name makes you jump in shock and surprise as you whip around only to find Artorias with his hands behind his back, clearly hiding something.

“Artorias! You scared me.” You laugh for a moment before speaking again, “I’d prefer you don't sneak up on me in the future.” Your tone is still playful and calmed.

“Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.” He apologises as he continues to walk closer to you, his hands still behind his back obscuring your view of whatever he’s holding.

You raise your brow, “what do you have?” You inquire as you lean and try to get a look but only see a splash of red before Artorias turns to block your view.

Artorias takes a deep breath before speaking, “(Name), I have something I wish to discuss with you.” He sounds serious and that makes you slightly nervous, “I hope that your decision will not affect our friendship whether it be negative or neutral.”

“Artorias? What are you…” before you could finish your sentence he suddenly kneels down onto one knee, now face to face with you as he brings out the beautiful bouquet and presents it to you.

“(Name), I cannot deny my feelings any longer. My heart yearns for yours and has for the longest time. Every smile you show to me has made me grow fonder, every minute apart I feel as if I will die.” His voice wavers a bit, “you have improved my life to the fullest. Every second I get to spend with you is when I’m the happiest and luckiest man alive. You have invaded my thoughts everyday and I gladly welcome you in.” He takes another breath, “(Name), I love you.”

To say you're stunned is a severe understatement as you watch Artorias practically spill his heart and guts to you and you stare at him with wide eyes and an agape mouth.

When you don’t respond, Artorias falters as he lowers the bouquet and he swears he can feel his heart beginning to crack, “F-forgive me, I understand if you don’t recuperate.” He falters as his gaze flicks down at your supposed rejection.

“Artorias..” you mutter his name as you finally have enough brain to respond and you put a hand on his shoulder, which shocks him as he looks back at you.

“I love you too.” You recuperate his feelings as you lean in for a tender kiss. His lips are soft and inviting as you press yours against his. You feel his hands reach up and gently hold onto your hair and head.

His kiss becomes more hungry as he savours the feel of your lips before he breaks away for a breath of air, a string of saliva still connecting your lips and his. His breath is hot as he feels himself becoming bothered in a certain way.

He trails his hands down your sides and gouges your reaction for any type of rejection or hesitation, “(Name), if you’ll let me.” He asks for your consent and waits patiently, “I will cherish your very soul.”

Your face heats up as you smile at him, “of course.” Your confirmed consent sends his hands trailing down your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

He brings his lips back down to meet yours as he slowly unbuckles the clips of your armour, letting the pieces fall to the ground with a small ‘thunk’. He pushes his tongue against your lips and you open your mouth, allowing him in as he claims what now belongs to him as much as he belongs to you.

You and him only separate your lips to take in greedy breaths of air before immediately meeting back together again, the kiss becoming more sloppy as he pulls down your underclothes and caresses your thighs and ass.

His hands travel up your back and undo your bra, freeing your breasts. He breaks from the kiss to look down at them and take in your entire naked form, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

Every curve is a place for him to hold, every imperfection on your skin does not exist to him. Because in every way, you are perfection down to your very flesh to him.

“As are you, the most chivalrous and handsome knight. I’m so glad to have met you.” You hold his face within your hands and he leans into your touch, enjoying your warmth and closeness.

He suddenly pushes you against him and slowly sets you to lay on your ground on your back. His hands gently open your legs, exposing your quickly wettening pussy to him as he lifts himself up and then lowers his head.

You feel his tongue flick against your pussy and you gasp in surprise. His tongue slowly trails up your pussy and circles your clit for a few moments, causing a pleasurable shiver to crawl up your spine. “Ahh.. Artorias.” You moan out his name as he continues his slow licks.

He holds onto your thighs as he savours your taste and enjoys every little moan and squeak you produce. His tongue circles your clit once more before he brings it down and slowly plunges it inside of you.

You feel his tongue exploring and you arch your back as your hands clench onto the ground. His tongue swirls and feels around, trying to find your sweet spot.

You wrap your legs around him and urge him to continue with a tap of your heel on his back. He wastes no time as he expertly works his tongue and finally reaches where you need him most as you moan immediately when he finds it.

He begins to practically abuse your spot as he holds your already shaking thighs slightly up to his face, lifting your lower half just a bit. He takes his tongue out and pays attention to your aching clit to begin servicing it.

He kisses and licks your clit as a knot forms in your lower stomach and your body begins to sweat and quiver. “I’m g-going too.” You hardly have time to finish your sentence as Artorias knows already and he greedily licks your clit and you arch your back again, bucking your hips into his face as you orgasm. Your fluids getting all over his mouth and a bit of his face.

He moves his face away from your pussy as he licks up any of your sweet fluids that have gotten onto his face. “You taste better than I could have ever imagined, my dear.” He praises you and you blush.

He begins to take off his lower armour with haste, making quick work of it. He pushes down his trousers and frees his hard cock. He’s quite large, both in length and girth, with visible veins throughout and a pink-ish tip

You feel a pang of fear at his sheer size and girth and Artorias notices your nervous expression and you feel his hands gently caress the sides of your face.

“Please, if it hurts, tell me.” He pleaded with you as he positioned himself to enter but keeping himself still, waiting for your approval.

You nod, urging him to continue and he begins to gently push in. The stretch is like nothing you’ve felt, ever. Some pain shoots through you and you let out a small yelp and scrunch your face which makes Artorias quickly stop.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“N-No, keep going.” You don’t really mind the pain, as all you want is to be closer to him in every way possible.

He leans down and begins to kiss you again while he pushes his length into you, anytime you would twitch or make any sound of the slightest pain he would stop and wait for you to adjust. Breaking the kiss only to whisper just how much he loves you into your ear.

He finally inserts himself fully down to his balls and he waits for you to become more comfortable. His sheer girth causes a small bulge to appear in your lower stomach.

“You can move,” you're finally stretched out enough to be completely comfortable with every movement he makes.

He slowly begins to thrust, ensuring he was not hurting you in the slightest. To him, you feel as if you were made for him, you felt perfect and looked like perfection in every form.

You let out small moans every time he thrusts back in, grazing against your sweet spot as he wants to have this moment last as long as possible. His size makes you feel rather stuffed and that only gets you more aroused.

His slow thrusts become a little faster as he’s confident he won’t hurt you. A lewd slap of skin on skin, yours and his weak moans being the only sound in the area.

To you, it feels as if this is your entire world as the real world melts around you, replaced only by Artorias and the pleasure he’s giving you.

Artorias breathes heavily as he continues his thrusting, he never knew just how much he needed this, just how much he needed you. His hands move down to trail along your sides and hold you more still, allowing himself to go deeper.

Sweat forms on your forehead as he hits your sweet spot. With how deep he is, he can feel every little movement you make and when he feels you buck a little bit, he knows he found the place he needs to be.

“Please, faster.” You moan out and wrap your legs around him once more. You feel as if you're burning with arousal and you need it to be quelled.

He abides by your command and increases his pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. He leans down and envelops your lips in a love-filled kiss again, kissing as if he was starving for your love.

A knot begins to form in your stomach as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. Your hands clench at the ground beneath you and sweat flows more freely on your body.

Artorias can feel himself reaching his peak as his thrusts become more sloppy and needy. He only breaks from the kiss to breathe before greedily continuing it, his lips feel bruised but he does not care.

You break the kiss and take some breaths before you can speak, “F-Fuck, Artorias. I’m so cl-close.” You moan out. The knot in your stomach becomes tighter and tighter.

His exposed skin glistens with sweat as he groans, feeling your walls clench onto him and you finally reach your climax, arching your back and bucking your hips.

He thrusts a few more times to ride out your orgasm before he buries himself as far as he can and groans loudly, cumming deep inside of you.

You feel his hot seed shot inside of you, the feeling of it is strange but welcoming. Some of his cum slowly leaks out of you and onto the grass.

You and him breathe heavily as you both come down from your high, sweating and shaking from the intense coupling. He slowly removes himself from you, a wet ‘pop’ emanating as his now flaccid cock comes out.

He notices just how exhausted you are as he gently picks you up and walks over to your bed, placing you down onto the pillows before he lays next to you, spooning you.

You feel his hands starting to clean you up, wiping the sweat from your forehead and the cum sticking to your inner thighs with a cloth, disregarding the cloth afterwards and buries his face into your neck.

You smile weakly, “Artorias, we have to do our duty.” You weakly state but Artorias simply mumbles into your neck and holds you closer, not wanting to let go.

“Fine, we’ll stay here just for a bit longer.” You accept your little defeat, knowing it would be useless to try and get him back up. You enjoy his embrace, never knowing it would be your first and last.

—————————

Many hours had passed from your embrace with Artorias. He had to be convinced to let you go from his embrace and to get back up and do his duty with you.

You and him had discovered something within the Oolacile dungeons, a massive hole in the wall of an old cell. The hole itself felt terribly wrong, pitch black and leading into some void which you had quickly discovered that this was the abyss itself.

Artorias had gone in before you, stating that he needed to ensure it was safe before you’d come in. He scouted the entrance area before he came back to you and took you with him, into the abyss.

That would be his biggest mistake and he wouldn’t know it until it was far too late.

You could hardly see five feet in front of you as you held onto Artorias’s hand as he led you through the abyss, equally as lost.

The first enemies you had encountered were strange humanoid like creatures with bloated heads, bandaged, strange arms and many eyes within the crevices of their horrid heads.

They were dealt with, with relative ease. Many of them meet their quick end to your powerful swings, torn apart instantly in one attack. The force of your swings hitting the ground with any miss had sent loud echoes throughout the strange chasm of the abyss.

Another enemy you and Artorias had faced were odd sprite-like creatures that looked as if they were made of some sort of gas. Their white eyes had sent shivers down your spine, they looked almost human.

You and Artorias had made you way down further into the chasm, fighting your way through most of it. You had gotten injured by a bloathead at one point, a large scratch wound on your arm which had quickly begun to turn black.

“It’s fine, we’ll get out of here before this can affect me.” Is what you told Artorias when he had worried about the infected-looking scratch.

“It’s spreading fast, (name). I wouldn’t want you to become sick in this place.” He clearly didn’t believe your words, greatly worried about it instead. Becoming sick or weakened in this place could spell your death.

“Then we’ll have to do this quickly.” You had told him, “the faster we get this done, the faster I can be taken to a healer.”

That had motivated Artorias to continue through the abyss, practically glued to your side, only separating to attack enemies and not accidentally hurt you or have you accidentally hurt him with the swings of your large swords.

You and him made your way further, the darkness only getting worse and the enemies more packed together and aggressive. That was when you began to cough which caught Artorias’s attention.

“Are you alright?” He quickly asks, already looking at the scratch which is already getting worse by the minute.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You cough again, “It’s only exhaustion.” He seemed to understand your words but yet still tentative and worried.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him of the strange black sludge you had coughed up just minutes ago.

With every enemy dispatched you felt worse and worse, the scratch on your arm had turned entirely black and began to spread out onto your arm. And a strange feeling of aggression began to worm its way into your brain as you repeatedly slammed your sword into the mushy-red remains of a bloathead.

Artorias noticed your increased aggression but he didn’t need to ask as you snapped your head towards him saying you were just ‘irritated’ and ‘tense’

He held firmly onto your hand and steered into more trails with less enemies but whenever you heard or even saw an enemy, you had let go of his hand and rushed towards it, turning it into paste on the floor.

Artorias had begun to get worried.

“We need to head back.” He is stern as he inspects your wound again, it had nearly turned your entire arm black by now.

“No!” You had ripped your arm away from his grip, which startled him. “We are so close Artorias! If we continue we can find the source and destroy it!”

“(Name), please, your wound is spreading and I fear for you.” He notices just how angry you look, how angry you look at everything, how angry you look at him.

You momentarily snapped out of your angry state as you realised how you spoke to him and you had apologised, reluctantly agreeing to head back up.

You’d never make it back out of the abyss, or ever see the light again.

Halfway through the ascension back up, you had begun to feel weaker with every step and you had to resort to leaning onto Artorias for support. But only a few minutes later your legs had entirely given out.

Artorias, by now, had begun to panic for your safety as he lifted you up and began to walk faster, nearly breaking into a full sprint. “We’re almost there, just stay strong for a little longer.” Is what he said to you but your mind had blocked him out.

You begun to feel the strange aggression once more, turning your head to look at the red eyes of bloatheads in the distance, too far to be considered a threat but you had the horrible urge to attack.

Your struggles in Artorias’s grip started off as small and insignificant, too small for Artorias to even notice but when you began to kick and knee him is when he noticed.

“(Name)! What are you doing?” He worried, asking but received no reply as your struggles only began to get worse.

“Stop! Please! We’ll be out of here soon enough.”

You had only struggled again as you began to snarl, much like a wild beast, much like the beast you were before.

That’s when you had taken your sword from your back and attempted to slash at Artorias’s head but only missing because he dropped you to avoid it. You had quickly recovered from being dropped as you stood back up and faced him, your sword clutched in your hands and a black froth begging to coat your mouth.

“W-what’s happening? (Name), please what’s wrong!” Artorias held out his hands to keep a distance from you.

Pain racked you, and pain was all you felt as you lunged toward Artorias with murderous intent. You didn’t know why or what you were entirely doing and what you were it for, all you knew was you wanted the pain to stop.

You screamed and snarled like a beast as you slashed at him again, the pain was far too much for you. You had been attempting to fight your pain in a way, attacking anything that moved or breathed which included Artorias.

You were a beast again, the one you were before.

Artorias tried his hardest to reason with you but his words never registered in your pained and slipping mind. He could only dodge as you attempted to hit him with your sword, never once did he think of pulling out his own sword.

At one point, you had stopped attacking suddenly and looked at Artorias with eyes of regret, pain and sorrow. “Please, Artorias, it hurts.” Is all you could say before attacking again.

Your screams were that of agony, agony of losing control of your body and attacking the one you loved most.

He had tried everything he could but you wouldn’t listen. He had promised you that he would come back with a cure once he had defeated the abyss and that he will take you back to Anor Londo after this to have you looked over.

Artorias looked back one last time at the beast that was once you, promising in his heart he would find your cure.

Fate is cruel, the cruellest thing he knows.

—————

Artorias still thinks of you as he paces around in his crumbling coliseum. Even if his mind is rotted and consumed by abyss, he knows who he loves and he remembers his promise but can’t think of how to do it.

He holds onto a piece of old, dirty cloth in his hand. This cloth had once belonged to you, it was once part of your armour. Sometimes he forgot why he held onto a cloth, but he knew he must keep it even if he couldn’t remember why.

Footsteps catch his attention as he swings his head to the source of the sound. An undead coming into his coliseum.

The abyss inside of him screams and takes control as he attempts to fight the undead. The battle is long and horrifically painful to him, every movement feels as if he’ll shatter and break.

When the undeads sword pierces through his stomach, finally freeing his infected mind of the abyss but just for a moment as his now, dying body and mind can only think of one thing.

Are you safe?

Chapter Text

Warnings: Chester is a bit sadistic and an asshole, anal and face fucking. A bit of musk too but like for one scene.

Being dragged by a hand with what looks like teeth and eyes embedded in it and being transported into the past was not part of what you expected on your undead journey.

You had hardly any time to react when the hand reached out for you from the strange portal and the next thing you knew, you were thrown into some sort of underground area with roots all over the place. Your transportation was not the best as you had slammed, face first, into the ground, nearly breaking your nose.

Luckily a bonfire had been near the place you landed so gracefully and you rested by it, letting its strange effects heal your sustained injuries before you continued on your way.

—————

“Shit!”

The attack from the strange winged lion with a scorpion's tail had grazed your shoulder, sending a small yet painful shock through your body, causing you to yell out.

You hold onto your trusted staff, attempting to keep your distance and fire spells at the beast. Yet the lion creature kept charging at you or shooting balls of condensed electricity, attempting to close the gap at any given moment.

The water in the large arena certainly didn’t help as you had slipped multiple times on muddy areas, some of these slips had nearly cost you your life.

Eventually the beast falls to your barrage of spells, surprisingly it wasn’t able to take most of them very well. The only real trouble you had was with its aggressive tendencies in fighting as you had to charge up your more powerful attacks, which left you vulnerable.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the beast lets out its final roar of defiance before crumbling to dust, blowing away in the wind. The strange fog wall that previously blocked you from advancing, dissipating moments after its defeat which gave you the idea of where to go next.

Wherever you were transported was surely strange as you walked into what looked like a crumbling, overgrown sanctuary with many statues staring down at the bonfire in the middle of a circle of stone.

You immediately rest at the bonfire and contemplate simply warping away from here and continuing your adventure, but something compels you to continue on. Suddenly, something moving, just slightly catches your eye.

It’s a mushroom, a large, living one like you had seen a few times in the darkroot garden except this one was embedded into a mossy wall.

“Well, look at this one. From what far-away age hast thou come? Thy scent is very human indeed.” The mushroom suddenly speaks which spooks you as you walk up to it, but the mushroom doesn’t seem to have any malicious intentions, perhaps she has some answers.

“I come from…” you don’t really know what time you come from, due to the strange way time works in Lordran. “An age far after this one.” Is the only way you can really explain where you came from.

“Ah, Princess Dusk's saviour. Thine aura is precisely as she described. I thank thee deeply, for rescuing her highness. But Princess Dusk is no longer here..” she sounds forlorn, “snatched away by that horrifying primaeval human.”

You don’t question how she knows about you or how Dusk even described you, you feel your brain will fry if you try. Your senses tingle as you feel an upcoming favour, one that will probably result in multiple deaths for you.

“And so I must ask… Couldst thou once more play the saviour?”

Exactly, you nearly sigh as you knew this would happen. Why does this always happen whenever you meet someone with enough sentience to speak?

“Well, I suppose.” You shrug.

The mushroom breathes a sigh of relief before speaking, “Thank you. I am Elizabeth, guardian of this sanctuary. Something of a godmother to Princess Dusk. I shall assist thee, to my utmost. For I am one with the sorceries of Oolacile.”

Oolacile? Where did you hear that name before? Your brain clicks as the pieces fall into place, remembering what you’ve heard of this place fallen from time and the abyss. So, that’s where you are, in the ancient land of Oolacile many years into the past.

“My thanks, Elizabeth.” You do a small bow to her, “but I don't think I will need any new sorceries at this time.”

She seems to understand and simply nods, “very well, if you are to be on your way then may the flames guide thee.”

————

Elizabeth’s request had jump-started your journey throughout the Royal Woods, fighting through what seemed to be gardeners with large shears and golems with giant axes.

Many times you had just barely dodged out of the way in time as the gardeners nearly snipped your head off or slit your neck open. The golems you had preferred to avoid entirely by running away, which luckily, they weren’t very fast.

You had found an elevator and took it down to a strange crumbling colosseum but before you went in you had seen a bloch of black in your peripheral vision.

You turn towards the black bloch and notice it’s a man, with his arms crossed and leaning against a cliff face. He’s across a small bridge over a ravine and you decide that he doesn’t seem like much of a threat as you cross the bridge.

“Hm.. oh let me guess..snatched by a shadowy limb and dragged off to the past?” He begins to speak the moment you approach him. His voice is rather charming and strangely calming to listen too with a nice rasp in it.

“Well… yes.” You wonder how he immediately knew that.

“Yes, of course. Exactly what happened to me. We are both strangers in this strange land. But, at least now there are two of us.” He strangely doesn’t sound very bothered by this.

You inspect the strange man more closely now, although trying not to make it too obvious. He wears black fabrics with no armour in sight, a top hat on his head and an eternally grinning mask plastered onto his face. Small glints of gold on his legs make you look down to notice large bolts strapped to his boot, nearly as long as his leg.

“Having a look?”

His voice makes you jump back into reality as you look at where you presumed his eyes would be, although covered by the brim of his hat.

“Sorry, I was just uh..” you feel your face beat up with embarrassment as you try to find a way to explain yourself. Being alone for most of your journey hasn’t helped your social skills, you’d go as far to say it had deteriorated them.

“Ogling a man who hasn’t told you his name?” He chuckles, “Quite the manners, is it customary in this world?”

“No!” You quickly deny both of his allegations, “you just looked strange is all.” You weren’t exactly wrong, his attire was considered strange and obsolete in this world. All fabric and no armour? He is practically asking to be killed.

“Where I come from, it is quite satisfactory.” He says, referring to what he wears.

You never heard of anywhere that would favour weak fabric over hard metal and steel of armour, “then where did you come from?”

“If you want to ask questions,” he says, completely ignoring your inquiry, “then you’ll have to buy first.”

You look down again and notice his bag, which once again looks like nothing you’ve seen around Lordran before. Sitting next to a lit candelabra, opened and packed with supplies.

“Could i atleast know your name?” You ask him, not wanting to have to spend souls to know something as simple as a name.

“Marvellous Chester. Now that we have introduced ourselves, are you going to buy? Or continue to ogle me?” He seems much more interested in business then he is getting to even know your name.

You flush at his last statement but don’t comment on it. You reach out your hand to shake his, “well, my name is (Name). It is quite a pleasure to meet you, ‘Marvellous’ Chester.” You say the marvellous part sarcastically, who would willingly put that before their name?

His hand grips onto yours in a harsh handshake, it felt like he was trying to break your hand. “Yes, yes, pleasant…” he lets go of your now, sore hand. “We’ve little to talk about, so, will you buy something?”

You feel a spark of irritation run down your spine at Chester, who is more interested in gaining than he is in being a decent person. “I suppose so, if you have what I want.”

He moves a bit to allow you to look into his bag where you see the familiar, glowing and floating silhouettes of humanities. There’s other objects in his bag such as homeward bones, clumps and firebombs but you're most interested in the humanities, something all undead crave, and you are no exception.

“How many souls for the humanities?” You hope it’s not too much, as you are hurting for souls with only twenty thousand in your pocket but yet again with past vendors, they were all expensive.

“Ten thousand a piece.”

Your eyes widen at the price and you nearly flinch, the last time you paid for a humanity it was half the price at five thousand souls. “Ten thousand!? That’s far too expensive!”

Chester simply hums, not at all bothered. “If you can’t afford it, then it’s none of my concern.”

“I can afford it, but ten thousand is absurd.” Your brows knit together as you are seriously considering it, you are running low on humanities and you much prefer not to look like a dried raisin.

Chester doesn’t say anything but simply stares, you think, it’s hard to tell with the mask.

“Okay fine, I’ll take two.” You give in and reach into your bag, taking out the required souls and giving it to Chester who gladly accepts and gives you the two humanities.

Just as you cross the bridge to leave you hear him speak, “so long.” You don’t respond but simply continue on your way and into the crumbling coliseum.

That’s where you encountered the abyss-rotted knight of Gwyn who held a strange, old cloth close to his chest where his heart would be. Needless, to say he kicked your ass, multiple times.

Try after try, you just couldn’t get it right and kept getting killed and having to make the trek back, dodging gardeners and golems.

Eventually, you feel exhausted both mentally and physically as you walk back over to Chester, who had gotten quite the entertainment in watching you run back over and over again.

You nearly collapse on the cliff face as you slide down the wall and eventually sit on the grass.

“Having trouble?” He asks, obviously knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from you.

“What does it look like?” You nearly snap at him in frustration, “I just keep dying and-“

“Not that I care.” He interrupts you, which makes your blood boil but you simply groan and rest your head against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to calm down.

Chester watches in amusement at your perceived frustration, your quite the entertainment for him in this rotting strange ancient world he’s been sucked into.

“You know…”

His sultry voice interrupts your wallowing in anger as you open your eyes to look at him.

“I could lend you help.” He already knows what he’s going to ask for in repayment for his help against the abyss rotted knight.

You perk up and nearly jump up to your feet in hope, “really?! Oh, Chester, if you could do that it would be great!“ a big smile plasters itself onto your face, almost like the one stuck on his mask.

“For fifty thousand souls that is.” He smiles underneath his mask as he watches your expression deflate.

Your heart practically shatters in disbelief but you should have seen this coming with a man like this, yet you consider killing enemies over and over again to afford his help. An idea sparks into your head, maybe you could pay him later.

“I don’t have those kinds of souls on me. But maybe I could pay you afterwards? With the rewards from the fight?” You suggest it to him but he quickly shoots it down.

“So you could run off with the souls before you pay me?” He accuses.

“Ugh, please Chester. I promise to pay you, I’m not going to run off with it. Come on, as you said we are both strangers in a strange land.” You practically begin to beg him as you clasp your hands together.

Chester feels an unexpected surge of arousal course through him at your begging. A new idea courses through his mind, perhaps you could earn his help instead of paying for it.

“If you really wish for my help,” you feel hope blooming again at his words before he continues on, “you could earn it instead.”

Earn it? What does that mean? You tilt your head slightly in confusion, “Earn your help?”

“Precisely, or do I have to repeat it?” He can feel his pants tighten as he is already thinking of what he could do to have you earn it. “So, deal or no?”

You consider your options, get your ass handed to you by Knight Artorias over and over again or accept the help of Chester. “Fine, I’ll ‘earn’ your help. What do I have to do?”

“Get on your knees and open your mouth.”

His command shocks you as you notice his erection pressing against his pants and your face nearly turns red in anger and shock, “wh-what! Listen, I’ll do anything but that!”

“Or you can pay me the souls in full, before the fight. Your choice.” He knows he has you cornered as he watched you contemplate before eventually sighing, your shoulders slumping.

“Fine..” you grumble before you get down onto your knees and refuse to look up at Chester as he approaches, his hand reaching down and tracing along your chin.

His hand turns you to look up at him as he unbuckles his pants, pulling them down enough to reveal his boxers before they are pulled down and his cock springs free.

His cock is larger than average with a single visible vein bulging from it and pre-cum beginning to form on his tip. He reaches down and grabs the back of your head before bringing your face to his balls.

“You’ll work your way up.” He keeps your face pressed against him, before letting up to allow you to start.

You don’t exactly know where to begin but place a tentative kiss at the base of his cock, making him take a sharp inhale of breath indicating you're doing what needs to be done.

You slowly place more kisses along the base and occasionally on his balls before slowly trailing them along his cock, making him shudder and groan lightly. You eventually reach his tip and give it a few kisses before taking it into your mouth.

The taste of his pre-cum on your tongue is salty but you push through it and take only his tip in your mouth, using your tongue to lick the tip.

He seems to be getting impatient as he grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock further into your mouth, nearly causing you to choke and angrily look up at him.

“You agreed to this, I’m simply helping you earn it.” He condescendingly chuckled as you struggled to keep his cock in your mouth even if it’s only half of it. His hand keeps firmly on the back of your head, ensuring you won’t try to back out.

You eventually get used to the feeling without nearly gagging and begin to move up and down, mostly using your tongue and lips. A few tears brim at your eyes from occasionally gagging but you mostly ignore them.

The scent of his strange, otherworldly and oddly bloody musk as you suck his dick invades your nose and senses. Sending an odd spark of arousal through you as you pick up your pace.

He bucks his hips into your face, sending his cock down your throat and causing you to let out a surprised, muffled squeak. “You're quite skilled at this.” He says, resisting the urge to fuck your face, “makes me think you’ve done this before.”

The feeling of his cock in your throat is strange as you struggle to adjust to it, thick drool beginning to dribble down your chin. Yet you continue to move up and down, making Chester lose his control.

Both of his hands grip onto the back of your head as he begins to thrust into your mouth, essentially fucking it as his balls hit your chin with every thrust. You gag as tears well up from struggling to breathe and it only excites Chester further.

Your hands grip onto his thighs as he thrusts faster and groans with sadistic delight and pleasure. He nearly slams his hips into your face as he begins to approach his peak.

He suddenly takes his cock out of your mouth just as he cums, instead of getting it into your mouth he got it all over your face. Causing you to scrunch your face as his cock spurts his final pouts of seed.

“Ugh, what a mess.” You scowl at him, “did you really have to do that?” You look for anything to wipe his cum off of your face but can’t find anything to wipe it off with and trying to wipe it off with your hands will only make a bigger mess.

“I’ll do what I want.” He simply states as his still erect cock drips in front of you, getting some of his cum onto your chest. “Get up and take off your clothes.”

“I already did what you asked, aren’t you going to help me now?”

“You haven’t earned my help yet.” He’s getting impatient and you can tell as his cock twitches, already needing more.

You begrudgingly get up and start to do as he says, taking off your pieces of armour until you're in your undergarments. Chester watches as you take off your undergarments, exposing yourself fully to him.

His hands reach down and roughly grab your asscheeks before spreading them apart, making you gasp in shock at the sheer lewdity of it but you let him do it anyways.

His hard cock suddenly begins to push against your asshole and you whirl around, “Hey! Not there!” You try to protest but he simply takes off one of his gloves and shoves it into your mouth. His hands hold onto your waist now, keeping you still as he attempts to push in.

Pain flares as he suddenly pushes in, a painful stretch you’ve never felt before, making you muffly cry out into the glove. He has enough mercy to let you adjust to him inside of your ass before slowly inserting more of his length into you.

He sheathes himself to his balls, groaning from just how tight you are. His hands on your waist dig into your skin as he slowly thrusts.

Majority of his first thrusts cause you pain but it begins to slowly morph into pleasure as you stretch out and feel his cock occasionally hit the perfect spot.

He’s nearly looming over you as he thrusts, breathing down your neck. From the way your positioned you can’t turn around to see him but you feel a sudden sharp bite on your neck, indicating he took off his mask or lifted it just enough.

Chester roughly holds onto your neck with his sharp teeth as he picks up his speed, feeling your ass having adjusted to him. He purposely digs his canines into your neck, causing you to let out a muffled cry of pain. But he gets what he wants as he tastes a rarity in his world, untainted, pure blood.

You can feel him practically suck on your neck like some sort of animal as he digs his canines further, looking for more blood and finding it.

He eventually lets go of your neck with his teeth, seeing the large bruise forming and the trail of blood leaking down the spot he bit. The sight of it makes him groan as he thrusts faster, hitting against a certain spot inside of you.

His cock pumps in and out of you brutally now, as if he had gotten some sort of vitality from the blood and is using his newfound energy. His breath comes out ragged as sweat forms on his and your skin.

You can feel his thrusts begin to get sloppy and frantic before he lets out a familiar groan and thrusts himself as far as he can go, cumming inside of you.

Your body tensed as you reach your own peak, orgasming as your juices trail down your leg. You never knew you quite liked this as you slowly recover and you can feel him remove his cock.

“Well, I suppose you’ve earned my help.” He chuckles as he catches his breath, putting his now flaccid cock back inside his trousers and buckling his belt back on. He takes the glove out of your mouth and puts it back on his hand.

Your legs wobble as you attempt to stand up straight but fail as you fall to your knees. “Damn it.” Your ass is already starting to hurt and your legs are weak, you hope Chester is merciful enough to wait for you to recover which could be a matter of hours.

“What’s ever the matter?” He condescendingly asks, knowing the answer already, “shouldn’t we be going off to slay knight Artorias?”

“Chester, just give me a few hours..”

Chester lets out a dramatic sigh before agreeing to have this one mercy on you.

————-

In the end you did get Chester’s help with defeating Artorias, he proved to be a major help with his items that caused bleed. And eventually the rotted knight fell, his hands clenched around that piece of cloth.

He had returned to his spot at the cliff face but of course not leaving without a comment.

“If you need any more help, just come to me.”

You pointed your middle finger at him.

Chapter Text

A/N: (Gascoigne in this one is unmarried and not a dad. At the start 👀)

Many yharnamites know of The Hunt, even foreigners do and some find out in the harshest of ways. But what many yharnamites know that foreigners rarely see, is the night before The Hunt. Where many hunters gather to form a hunting pair or reunite with their old hunting partners.

You move through a large crowd of hunters, briefly noting that there’s less hunters than last year, what a shame. You squeeze through some more tighter spots, trying your hardest to go to the outskirts of the gathered hunters.

You had tried your luck in the middle of the gathering, attempting to talk to some other hunters but being mostly brushed off or seeing that they were already paired. Sometimes a few of them even spit at you, telling you to ‘stay away from the hunt, foreigner.’

It was almost like yharnamites had some sort of superpower to tell who is one of them and who is a foreigner. And unfortunately for you, you yourself are a foreigner. You had moved to Yharnam a few years ago and joined the hunt, but whenever the gathering happened you never seemed to be able to find a hunting partner, spending most hunts alone.

The outskirts of the gathering become visible to you and eventually you make it out, taking a deep breath in as it was hard to breathe in the crowd.

In the outskirts, there aren’t many hunters but you could see some idling or pacing around, clearly unpaired. Perhaps you could try your luck with them? You look towards a hunter in standard wear, seeing he was alone.

You begin to walk over to him and wave, “hello! I see you're alone, do you have a hunting partner perhaps?” A small slither of hope is in your heart, maybe this hunt you don’t have to be alone.

The hunter looks at you up and down before making a scrutinising face, “well…” his face relaxes suddenly, “I uh.. yes! I do have one!” He’s clearly lying but you try not to show you see through it, “he’s just in the crowd.”

“Oh… alright, sorry to bother you.” You apologise and walk off, looking for more unpaired hunters but anytime you approach them and ask if they had a hunting partner, same story different font. Excuses, lies or outright insults thrown at you.

Soon, the moon begins to fall and the crowd has dwindled down into what you could only assume were approximately fifty hunters. A sad state compared to the assumed four hundred that were once here.

Many of the still unpaired hunters were loitering around or finding a partner as a last ditch effort, taking anyone they could. You even saw the hunter from before who said he had a partner, asking others to pair.

You sit with your back against a stone wall, watching and mumbling under your breath about how terrible Yharno’s are and wondering why you even decided to move here. At first, you were allured by the blood and it’s properties in Yharnam. But you begin to question if it’s even worth it anymore. Beastly transformations, foreign hate and mind-numbing gibberish of gods.

As you ruminate on possibly moving away, thinking of how much it would cost you and just where you would go. A large hand suddenly holds onto your shoulder and a gruff voice interrupts your thoughts.

“You. Do you have a hunting partner?” The voice is accented and clearly foreign, a rarity in Yharnam.
You swing around and get up, finding the owner of the voice.

It’s a man, clearly way older than you with his white beard and hair. His eyes covered with aged cloth and a hat adorning his head. He’s scarily tall, with you only reaching just below his chest.

“Oh!” You feel that same fleeting bit of hope that this man, a clearly foreign one, could partner with you, “no, no I don’t.”

“Well, will you hunt with me?” He offers and you feel an immeasurable amount of joy, someone to hunt with and he’s a foreigner as well, all the more to bond with over the hunt and hopefully future hunts, if he or you survives all of them.

“Of course! I’d love to,” you extend your hand for him to shake, “I’m (name), I hope we make excellent hunting partners.”

His hand takes your own and gives it a firm shake, “Gascoigne.” He simply says his own name, thinking it’s the only thing needed to introduce himself.

“That’s a name I’ve never heard before,” you laugh, making a small joke, “well,” you look around at the quickly dissipating group of hunters, most of them gone now and only a few stragglers left and you look at the setting moon, the sky slowly turning an orange, “looks like we should be heading back, the day is soon to come.” You know you have your own responsibilities in the day and he mostly likely does too.

“Right, on the night of The Hunt, I’ll be here. Umbasa,” he bids you farewell before he turns and begins to walk off, presumably to where he lives.

You turn yourself to the direction of your home, and the reality of finally having a hunting partner hits you and you feel giddy as a big smile decorates your face. Hopefully, this arrangement will last for a multitude of hunts.

———-

The moon rises on the night of The Hunt, large and luminous it hangs. Stars quickly decorate the skies and watch as hunters leave their dwellings to begin their hunts.

You are no different as you leave your estate, dressed in your best hunting gear and wielding your weapon in one hand and your firearm in the other.

You look back at your own door, praying you will come back from this hunt and see it again. You’ve seen it yourself, houses left abandoned because of the occupant perishing or transforming during this cursed night. You turn around again with a sigh, making your way to the spot Gascoigne said he’d be.

Arriving at the spot, you notice a few other hunting pairs meeting up but Gascoigne no where to be seen. You mutter nervously to yourself, have you been abandoned by your own hunting partner this fast? The doubt of him even showing up begins to bloom.

“(Name), over here.” His gruff voice reaches your ears and you turn around, finding him approaching you with a large hunters axe swung over his shoulder, somehow making him even more intimidating.

“Gascoigne, it’s nice to see you again.” You greet him, “should we search for our prey now?” You can hardly contain the prickly excitement that overtakes you during a hunt, it’s always the most exciting.

“Let’s go, prey is waiting to be slain! Haha!” His sudden boisterous laugh startles you, but you appreciate his contagious attitude and begin to walk off with Gascoigne following closely behind you.

The scent of a beast had caught your nose and it seemed to have also caught Gascoignes attention. You had always had an uncanny ability to smell out your prey, allowing you to get a leg up on other hunters and your prey.

You had picked up your speed, practically running now as Gascoigne easily keeps up. The scent was getting stronger now, and this prey smelt particularly powerful. You were grateful to have a partner to hunt this with.

Tracks litter the cobbled ground as you and him begin to close in on your prey. The tracks are particularly beastly, looking more pawed than a humans track. Which indicated that this beast had plenty of time to gather strength and blood.

The beast you’ve been tracking makes itself known as you skirt around a corner. It’s massive, possibly the largest you’ve seen in the past few hunts. It’s hard to make out it’s features as a sullied white wedding veil obscures it’s face and neck. Multiple arms protrude from its bloody wedding gown, ending with claws or wolf-like paws.

It screams as it notices you and Gascoigne, immediately charging at you first but you dash out the way, causing it to slam into a stone wall behind you.

Gascoigne swings his axe with a furious force as he aims for the beasts exposed arms, digging it in as the beast screeches in pain, attempting to swat or squash Gascoigne with its free arms but missing as he dashed away.

You already appreciate Gascoigne as you go in for more hits and he mostly distracts the beast, already proving himself a useful hunting partner. Your weapon hacks at the beasts arm and it suddenly gushes out blood, broken and tender.

Before you had the chance to abuse the tender spot, the beast flung out its arm sending you flying into a stone wall with a horrid crack.

Gascoigne quickly stopped his powerful attacks and ran over to you, dodging the attempted attacks of the beast. He quickly looks over you as you groan in pain, your arm clearly broken and unable to inject yourself.

“Sick creature,” he mumbles under his breath about the beast before speaking to you, “Can you get up?” He asks but when he receives no answer he presumes not.

He doesn’t have much time to think of an action as the beast charges towards him and you. He quickly grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder and dashing out of the way just in the nick of time.

Your mind swims in pain. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this kind of pain of a broken bone. You weren’t able to get up when he asked due to the fuzz of your brain. You suddenly feel something injected into your thigh and your arm begins to feel better.

Ah, that familiar feeling of blood and healing. It courses through your body as your bone fixes itself and mends the ripped muscles around it, as good as new. Your mind clears itself of its fuzzy and dizzy ailments as you pat Gascoignes back.

“I’m fine now, let me down.” You instruct him and he listens, but you could swear he hesitated just for a moment. He lets you down and you slide down his shoulder, landing on your feet.

Adrenaline courses through you as you feel that intoxicating feeling again, one you always felt during an exciting hunt. Your heart beats furiously, not with fear, but with bloodlust and it clearly etches onto your face. It’s a miracle you yourself haven’t transformed.

Gascoigne smiles, his canine teeth sharp and glinting, “I like the smell of this hunt already! Haha!” He seems to share your contagious intoxication as he charges at the beast with you in tow.

You and Gascoigne beat at the massive beast, shattering limbs and tearing at flesh with your weapons. The beast is nearly dead as it flails around, attacking blindly and enraged as its last ditch efforts to remain alive. Just as your about to deal the finishing blow, something interuppts you.

The sound of rushing footsteps and the crunch of flesh as a different hunter attacks the beast, followed by their hunting partner. The attack kills the beast, letting out its final roar before collapsing into a pile of dust.

….

“What the fuck was that?!” You shout out as you approach the two hunters who stole your and Gascoignes prey. Stealing another hunters prey was considered a great form of offence and disrespect.

“Ay calm down, lass.” One of the hunters snickers, “we just helped ya’ out.” He playfully hits the shoulder of his partner, laughing with him.

Gascoigne is equally as furious but he keeps his temper more contained as he approaches, “You two know better than to resort to rotten theivery.” He snarls, knowing these two are native yharnamite hunters.

“Ohh? What’s this? Two foreigners partnered up?” The other hunter snidely remarks, “what? Couldn’t find any true hunters to hunt with? No wonder, no one would want to hunt with beastly idiots like you two.”

“Watch your tongue.” Gascoigne threatens as he tightens his hold on his hunters axe and takes a step forward.

“Are ya’ challenging us?” They both stand at full height, trying to appear intimidating but barely able to reach Gascoignes chin. “I wouldn’t mind having foreign prey this hunt.”

“And I wouldn’t mind having yharnamites as prey either,” He shoots back. He moves his axe to push you behind him suddenly as he tenses up, preparing to fight.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you clutch your weapon, ready to assist Gascoigne. You’ve been in your fair share of hunter fights to know they can be vicious and you shiver, remembering the last time you got into a hunter fight which left a large, deep scar on your back.

The tension in the air is thick as you and Gascoigne watch the pair, waiting for them to make the slightest twitch or find an opening. One of them takes the smallest step forward.

Gascoigne launch’s himself at them, swinging his hunters axe with fury. The other hunter barely has time to react as he’s caught in the axes blades, being thrown across the area.

You take this chance and charge at the other hunter, bringing your weapon down on them before they had a chance to figure out what’s happening. Blood gushes onto you as you hit their head over and over again.

They dash away and heal before you could finish them off, “you little wench!” He practically snarls like a dog through his teeth as he comes at you.

His threaded cane undoes itself as he swings it, hitting you with its many little blades that dig into your skin. You let out a screech of pain as it rips itself out, taking a good chunk of skin with it.

The sound of the carnage with Gascoigne and the other hunter is background noise to you as you reach to take a vial. The hunter suddenly pounces onto you, pushing you to a ground and a terrible sound of shattering glass makes it known.

Your blood vials had been crushed.

He lifts the threaded cane above your throat, aiming to crush your airways. But, before he could he is suddenly thrown off of you by a large figure. You quickly realise it was Gascoigne that threw him as he stands over you, guarding you.

“Hahh..” he breathes deeply, “what a hunt this is.” He looks down to you before speaking again, “stay down. I’ll deal with this one…heh, his friend couldn’t put up much of a fight.”

You look to the place where Gascoigne fought the other hunter, only able to see the limp arm of the offending hunter behind a tall statue. Blood littered the area with bits of flesh stuck to many surfaces, safe to say, that hunter won’t get up anytime soon.

Gascoigne moves from atop of you as he rushes at the other hunter. You prop yourself up to watch the fight, watching as Gascoigne brutalises the other hunter with his axe and eventually the other hunter puts his hands up, pleading for mercy.

The pleas for mercy go unheard as he brings the axe down, burying it into the side of the hunter's neck before ripping it out. The scream turns into gurgles as blood pools in the hunters mouth and then goes silent.

“Quite the brutalist aren’t you?” You smile weakly up at Gascoigne as he approaches, clutching your arm with the large wound. “I’m glad I’m on your side,” you hiss in slight pain as warm blood pools down your injured arm.

“I don’t have any more vials,” he states, his belt bare of vials but he knows what to do, “come with me, we need to bandage that wound.” He reaches down to help you up, easily lifting you into your feet when you take his hand.

He begins to lead you through alleyways and tight spaces, you wonder where you're going as he stops in front of a door and reaches into his coat pocket. The sound of clinking keys makes it known, this is his house.

He pushes open the door and beckons you to go in before him. You walk in and take in the sight of his home, it’s spacious yet quaint and warmly lit. The furniture is plush and yet of standard Yharnam taste. Behind you, he walks in and closes the door, locking it behind him to ensure nothing could follow both of you in.

You walk over to his couch and sit down, it’s rather comfortable as you clutch your wound, not wanting to get blood on it. You watch as Gascoigne moves around and reaches into a drawer, rummaging around for a few moments before taking out a roll of bandages and approaching you.

“Show me your arm.” He states plainly and you do so, allowing him to hold onto your arm and begin to wrap it with bandages. Small stings of pain cause you to let out small yelps, the wound would surely leave a noticeable scar.

You wonder how such a gruff looking man could be so gentle and to someone he only met last night. Perhaps he would be your hunting partner for a long time coming, you sure hope so.

He finishes wrapping up your arm, making sure it’s wrapped tight and no blood is leaking out. “There, good as new.” He pats your shoulder as he takes a seat next to you, examining his axe splayed across his lap.

Oddly, there’s a small amount of tension. Your mind clicks, you're in a man’s house, alone with him on his couch. You mentally curse at yourself, he’s only supposed to be your hunting partner! You try to get your mind off of it and watch as Gascoigne cleans and sharpens his axe.

His appearance in the warm light is somehow even better than in the moons. You have to admit, he wasn’t bad looking at all and was rather handsome, his personality seemed perfect for you too. A pleasant heat settles in your lower regions.

You clear your throat and shuffle around, trying to get your mind off of the feeling, “well, should we be going out?” You ask him, your voice wavering slightly.

“No, we have no vials and the night is soon to end.” He grumbles, “just when the hunt was getting good.” He seems bummed about it as he finishes sharpening his axe before getting up, walking to a wall with a mount and putting it on the said mount.

“Has it been that long?” You look out the window and see the moon beginning to fall. This is possibly the shortest hunt you’ve participated in or perhaps you were having so much fun, it passed like a blink of an eye.

Gascoigne turns to you and crosses his arms, “you should stay here for the rest of the night.” His recommendation sounds more like a demand. Although you aren’t opposed to it, as your home is decently far from his and you wouldn’t want to be caught by any beasts on the way there. The stench of your flesh wound would allure many.

“Alright,” you simply agree and rub your sore arm, mostly forgetting the heat in your core. The stench of your wound begins to seep out of the bandages and invade the room.

The smell gets caught in Gascoigne senses as he tenses up. The stench, to him, is quite a sickly sweet one and one that he can’t help but inhale deeply. His mind begins to want more, more of that smell that sings to him and to get a taste.

He struggles to contain himself as his body and mind desire your blood and possibly you yourself. He can feel himself getting erect and he keeps his back turned to you to hide it.

You notice how stiff he is and the slight grumble emanating from him, “Gascoigne, are you alright?” You stand up from your spot and approach him but he takes a few steps away from you.

“I’m fine,” he lies through his teeth. As you get closer, the smell of your blood becomes stronger and it becomes harder for Gascoigne to control himself as he clenches his hands into a fist. His erection begs for attention as it becomes nearly intolerable.

The smell of your blood becomes too much for him as he turns around to look at you, breathing heavily with clenched teeth. His erection is highly noticeable to you and you gasp, a bit surprised. You just met him last night and he’s already lustful, but he is your hunting partner and most likely will be for the next hunts so why not form a bond with him. What better a way to form a bond then to fuck him?

You don’t make the first move but he takes it into his own hands as he grabs you, lifting you up before he sits down on the couch and putting you into his lap. His arms wrap around your waist to stop you from getting off, not like you would want to.

His hand comes to your chin and grabs onto it, making you look up and expose your neck to him. He buries his face into your neck as he inhales, taking in the muddled scent of fresh, sweet blood flowing in your neck.

“Sweet blood…” he mutters into your neck. You let out a sudden gasp as you feel his sharp canine teeth drag against your skin before sinking in, trying to get to your blood. The pain eludes your mind as arousal courses through your body, feeling his rock hard erection against your ass.

He digs his teeth further in as he finally tastes what he’s been wanting, your blood flowing into his mouth. He groans with desire at the taste and he bucks his hips, needing far more than just your blood.

His free hand reaches below him to unbuckle his belt and push down his pants and boxers, letting his cock free. He’s rather hairy at his base and down his legs. His cock twitches with lust as pre-cum dribbles from his tip and his sheer size astonishes you, he’s practically monstrous and makes you wonder if he could even fit.

You shuffle nervously, it looks as if it would break you. You let out a gasp of shock as he flips you around to face him while still on his lap. You can feel his arms move to nearly rip your pants off, leaving you only in your panties.

He’s getting far too impatient as he simply pulls them to the side, not caring enough to pull them down as you can feel his tip pressing against your wettening pussy. You already know he’s far too large to fit but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Hgrahh…” he growls into your neck as he struggles to insert himself. You let out a sudden yelp of surprise and pain as his tip pops in, stretching you out.

“Gascoigne, I don’t think you’ll fit..” the pain of the stretch makes tears prick at your eyes, making you squirm lightly.

He only increases his hold onto you as he slowly inserts more of his length, already causing a small bulge to appear in your lower stomach. The feeling of your walls against his cock make him shiver in pleasure and hold onto your neck with his teeth.

The pain from his size starts to dissipate as you become more used to it, pleasure replacing pain. He finally hilts himself entirely inside you, causing you to feel pleasantly stuffed and filled already.

He has an ounce of mercy and clarity to allow you to fully stretch out. His canine teeth release their hold on your neck, causing a trail of blood to fall down your chest and stomach. The sound of his heavy breathing against your ear sends goosebumps through you.

You let out small moans as he begins to thrust slowly, a wet plap with every thrust due to your sheer wetness. You rest your hands on Gascoignes chest, trying to keep yourself steady as he slowly increases his speed.

Gascoignes hands wrap around your entire waist, moving you up and down in accordance to his thrusting. He loves the feeling of how warm you are and the sound you make every time he buries his cock inside as far as he can go, hitting your sweet spot.

You can feel your mind starting to slip as the familiar feeling of a knot in your lower stomach makes itself apparent. You throw your head back as your body tenses up and clenches onto his cock, orgasming.

Gascoigne lets out a loud groan as he feels how you squeeze him, enjoying it thoroughly, nearly making him cum but he keeps up with his thrusting, turning more into pounding.

You hold onto his chest as you scrunch your face as he helps you ride out your orgasm. But when he doesn’t stop after you come down from your high and keeps pounding into your now, highly sensitive pussy. You can feel another orgasm quickly coming back.

He squeezes your waist and stomach, pressing down onto your lower belly to push you into another orgasm so he could thoroughly enjoy how you clench on him. He watches as you let out a scream of pleasure and the shaking of your body. His lower half is already covered in your juices.

“Sl-Slow down!” You try to cry out as drool begins to dribble down your chin and your eyes start to un-focus. You're far too sensitive by now, only needing a few more thrusts and the press of his fingers on your lower stomach to cause another orgasm.

Your mind is slipping as any pleas for him to slow down turn into gibberish nonsense. You can feel how his thrusts become more frantic and sloppy before he lets out a loud groan, hilting himself to his balls inside of you and finally cumming inside of you.

The feeling of his warm cum deep inside you is strange but not unwelcome. He breathes heavily as he lifts you off of his cock, easily slipping out due to the combined fluids of both you and him. His cum slowly dribbles out of you as you rest your head on his chest, regaining your breath.

His hand rubs your back, comforting you after the intense coupling. He watches as exhaustion takes your form and you fall asleep on him, he chuckles lightly. Seems his new hunting partner is quite promising.

He yawns as he takes a firm hold on you to ensure you won't slide off of him while you sleep. He can feel his own exhaustion take hold as he gets himself more comfortable and lets himself fall asleep.

————-

Needless to say, after that you had gotten closer to Gascoigne. Bonding with him easily with your shared experiences of being foreign and simply having sex with him. He’s quite the needy one you find out, usually visiting him at the very least two times a day.

Eventually he had asked you to become his romantic partner, which you had accepted immediately. He treated you exceptionally well, always putting you first in everything and ensuring you were comfortable and happy.

After a few years of being in a relationship with him, he had eventually proposed to you and married you, the happiest day of your life. You had moved in with him, willingly selling your own estate and using the money you got from it to furnish Gascoigne's home further and to add some renovations.

He had confided in you one day that he wished for children with you, which you had agreed to do so. It didn’t take long to fall pregnant. During your pregnancy he had essentially spoiled you and ensured you were healthy. Eventually you had given birth to your first daughter and you had never been happier.

A few years later, as your daughter plays with her toys. Gascoigne approaches you and gives you a kiss on your forehead before whispering into your ear, “I want another.”

Chapter Text

Contents: (Ovipositon (kinda), Divine on mortal, Lore is kinda fucky so I did my own, tentacles, minor shocking, pregnancy at the end (duh), Kos uses her weird powers on ur body, you’ll see what I mean. Also anatomically impossible things but this is porn guys cmon)

The fishing hamlet greatly benefits from the great one in their seas, Mother Kos or some say Kosm. For as long as you could remember the fishing hamlet has worshipped her, you were no different as you sung praises for her.

She blessed the fishing hamlet with abundance of food, resources and hope. Thanks to her, the seas were filled with never ending fish to catch which single-handedly saved many of the village folk from starvation. You were one of those saved by her, which is the reason for your devotion.

You had become so devoted to Kos that you dedicated your entire life to serving her, always praying at an altar you had created on a beach. It stands tall and proud, many beautiful shells and conches lined along it or on it. The rocks that formed it were picked specially for their sparkling beauty and smoothness. But the most important part of your altar was a smooth slab, made for holding an important piece which was, what you suspected, a stray scale from Kos herself that you found along your beach.

The attire you always wore whenever you prayed to this altar was stark white with frilly endings. If someone were to look a little closer, they’d notice little sparkling dots meant to replicate the scales of Kos on the attire. A thin veil covers your eyes to copy the way Kos’s tentacles covered her own.

One day, while praying at your altar, Kos had spoken to you, in a way. What you could only describe as her voice being beamed into your head, one so majestic it was so hard for you to describe. It was almost like a thousand voices overlapping one another, mostly feminine sounding and surprisingly soothing.

That day you had run back to the hamlet, declaring that Kos had spoken to you. Many were ecstatic, even ones that seemed your strong devotion so strange or even thought you were insane. A few were sceptical but they were convinced later on.

You had spoken the very words Kos told you, an ominous warning of a thunderstorm that could wipe out a large portion of the hamlet. Many were afraid, terrified even. But you ensured that no one or their homes would be hurt or destroyed as Kos had told you more, which was how to shield the hamlet.

The people did exactly as you, or more accurately, Kos, ordered and not a week later a horrid thunderstorm hit the hamlet, sending the seas into a frenzy and raising the water level. After the storm, everywhere was checked and no damage or injuries were reported. You had rushed down to your beach afterwards to check on your altar, only to find it perfectly fine and with a new scale on the slab.

You had shortly been named a mouthpiece for Kos, a way for Kos to communicate with the hamlet. Your robes now dawned at all times, only being taken off to be washed, which was, surprisingly, not often even if they were pure sparkling white. You suspected Kos herself had something to do with this but you never asked.

People had practically worshipped every word you spoke as you took a vow of silence, only ever speaking to say what Kos had told you. So, whenever you opened your mouth, everyone would listen intently. This gave you a small ego, but you never abused it.

Every second of your day not eating or sleeping was now praying at your altar, mumbling praises and waiting for a new message or command. The beach you prayed on now revered as sacred ground which only you can enter. So you got full privacy, mostly full as you know some days people would watch from the rocks far above.

Many would come to you with their woes or wishes for you to speak of with Kos, some you had spoken of, others you had not as they were not of utmost importance. You had become the very centre of the hamlet, the most important figure besides Kos herself. So important In-Fact that your existence and ability was spreading outside of the small hamlet, much to the locals dismay.

As of now, you're praying at your altar. Hands clasped above your head while your back is slightly arched, your head bowed and mumbling prayers. Lately, Kos has been quiet or sounding strangely lethargic, as if she was encumbered or exhausted.

“Kos, oh kos..” you begin your prayer, which you’ve memorised to your very core, “hear me once again, I beg of thee.” You wait and listen for any indication Kos may be listening, and you get it. The waves suddenly stop all movement, going still and every sound except you goes quiet. Kos is listening.

“I have come with a prayer, an offering and a promise.” Your hands above your head clench onto the offering held firmly in between them, “my prayer comes first… I pray you hear me, for I will serve you to my utmost devotion. Let me, your devotee know your love, let me know your wrath.. but let me know your blessings. I am nothing but devoted, without you, I am nothing, without you, I will die.”

Your prayer concludes and you sit up, looking at the slab holding two of Kos’s scales before speaking, “next my offering,” your hands unclench, revealing a necklace made of beautiful shells. You know it’s not much, but if it’s made by you and given to Kos, it is proof of devotion. “Dear Kos, you need not accept it, if you ask for something more, be it my very flesh, my very heart I shall give it to you.”

The water is eerily still as you place the necklace by the shore, laying it down and watching it being taken by a stray wave into the water. Kos has accepted your offering, for now.

You clasp your hands together for your promise, “Kos, or perhaps Kosm. I promise thee, I will forever worship you. If I so perish, I promise to worship thee in spirit. If I know my death is soon, I will return my body to the sea and you shall do with it as you see fit.” You suddenly remember the many requests of the people.

Lately, there have been problems, luckily not with food or water, nothing like that. But problems with fertility, many woman had wished for children but only to never conceive or miscarry just a few weeks into pregnancy. Many had swarmed you to ask Kos for help with this, and you nodded to promise them you will.

“Ah, I’ve almost forgotten. I have a request, please hear me Kos.” You begin, “in the hamlet, we need to be blessed with fertility. Women cannot conceive or keep their children, please, I request you give us a blessing to cure this.. this plague.” You struggle to find the word for it, “if you need more offerings for this blessing, ask and I shall give it to you.”

It’s dead silent, but suddenly that familiar voice of Kos rings into your head, speaking directly to your brain, “Into the sea.” The command is simple but it shocks you, she has never given a command meant only for you but you are not going to reject it.

You don’t need to answer as you lift your veil, putting it down onto the sand before working on removing your robes. One after the other they fall onto the sand until your in your most primal form, completely naked but you know this is the ideal form to worship, ideal form to commune with the Great Ones.

Slowly walking to the shoreline, you stop suddenly as something long and white pokes out of the water. You gasp and look at it, it’s Kos or more specifically, Kos’ head. And she’s staring right at you, waiting for you to come into the beckoning sea.

Despite all your devotion, you had never seen Kos yourself, only seeing depictions of her in literature or paintings. Seeing her now, she is the most beautiful and incredible thing you’ve seen as you take more steps into the cold sea, keeping your eyes transfixed on Kos.

Kos doesn’t move from her position as she awaits for you to get closer to her. Her large form floating idly in the dark water. She knows her most devoted follower, her very own priestess in a way. Kos holds her hands over her swollen stomach, she has been blessed with child but, as a Great One, she knows it will die before it’s birth. Yet, she will transfer her child into your womb so it won’t perish, in exchange for a fertility blessing for the hamlet.

You go further into the deep water, eventually having to swim to get to Kos who seemed so far away due to your poor swimming. Suddenly, a current picks up, dragging you to Kos quickly. As you near Kos, you wonder if you could even touch her but you don’t have time to ponder as the current pushes you onto Kos’s chest.

You wince, wondering if this has offended Kos but you can feel her smooth hands caress you and you rest on her chest. It feels as if your chest and mind will explode with happiness, able to hold onto Kos like this as you close your eyes, enjoying her embrace.

The feeling of her soft scales against your bare flesh feels heavenly, so heavenly you never noticed Kos going further down into the dark, deep water. You never noticed you were breathing in the water or how warm you were, or how the water pressure never affected you as you nearly fell asleep on Kos’s chest, mumbling tired prayers and praises to her.

Kos holds onto you as she settles into the darkest depths of the ocean, far below the surface, where none will bother you or her. Her large hands, nearly as big as your entire leg, run over your entire body as she gently nudges you awake and speaks into your brain.

“My devoted, hold onto me. I shall bless thee with mine own child,” she gouges your reaction but only sees silent acceptance, “it shall grow within your womb. Upon its birth, I shall give mine blessing to the people, fertility and life.”

You feel excitement as you get more comfortable on Kos, holding firmly onto her but ensuring you won’t cause any pain. If you caused any pain you wouldn’t know how to deal with yourself. You never imagined your devotion leading to being impregnated by Kos herself, but now that you think of it, it’s all that you want.

Bubbles erupt around you and Kos as Kos begins to alter her form, giving herself appropriate genitalia for the exchange. An ovipositor, one large enough yet slick and rubbery enough not to injure you during the process and to properly exchange the growing embryo.

You feel the tentacles veiling her face explore your body as they poke and prod in every crevice. Her tentacles slowly wrap around your legs and hold firmly onto them, spreading them open as a few more poke your soaked pussy, the water adding easy lubrication.

The tentacles slowly push their way in as you clench onto Kos’s chest. Her hands soothe you as she runs them up and down your back, allowing you to relax as she inserts more of her tentacles in an attempt to stretch you out to accommodate her ovipositor easily.

The tentacles probe deeper into your canal, feeling around and soaking in the warmth of your insides. Pleasure runs up your spine as they work to stretch you out further and a few press onto your aching sweet spot while another rubs your clit. The tentacles holding onto your legs squeeze and massage them, tickling you lightly.

You twitch a bit and let out moans, causing bubbles to come out of your mouth and float up to the far surface. The tentacle rubbing your clit suddenly let’s out a shock, zapping you just a bit. It’s a strange feeling but yet again, it feels rather nice as she does it again, making you flinch in slight pain that morphs into pleasure.

You never expected to like it as she continues switching between small shocks and rubbing your clit with her tentacle while she pumps her other tentacles into your pussy, stretching it out good.

“Ah, K-Kos…” you speak through the water, not questioning how, “please, bless me if you would.” You clench your eyes shut as her tentacles pump in and out of you more vigorously, while small shocks or rubbing are administered to your clit. The familiar feeling of a knot tying in your stomach invades your senses.

Kos’s few free other tentacles made their way to your chest, curling around and squeezing your breasts while playing with your hardened nipples. A strange feeling, one that almost felt like a ripple of painless electricity bubbles on your chest. You quickly realise that Kos is using her power to enhance the size of your breasts, at least to her liking.

The feeling is strange and it’s quite mesmerising to watch as your breasts grow to what you could only assume, three cup sizes larger. Kos suddenly squeezes on them as she finishes her modification. You let out a gasp at the harsh squeeze, but it’s mostly pleasure than it is pain as squeezes again while her other tentacles furiously thrust into you, slamming against your sweet spot.

Kos’s hands hold you firmly as she sees just how overstimulated you already look and knows how you're approaching orgasm, feeling how you clench and twitch around her tentacles. She presses her thumb onto your lower stomach to incite it.

The knot in your stomach tightens to the point your brain is swimming until it finally bursts with a loud cry escaping from your throat. Your body clenches onto her tentacles as your warm juices seep onto them and into the water. Kos slowly removes her tentacles as she feels for how loose you’ve become, perfect for what she needs to do.

Kos watches as you collapse on her chest, breathing heavily and easily thanks to her passive ability allowing you to breathe underwater. Her hands rub your back as she lets you rest for a few minutes. She, as a Great One may not need things as rest but as far as she could understand, you would need it. After a few minutes she determines your fit enough.

She lifts you suddenly and curls her body in, bringing her lower half closer. The feeling of something cold pushing against your pussy makes you look down, seeing her positioning you over her ovipositor before she starts to push you down onto it. The stretch isn’t too bad as you’ve been loosened, only slight pain jolts through you as she hilts her entire length into you, the head of her ovipositor in your womb.

Your muscles clench around her length as you struggle to take it all, her girth certainly didn’t make it any easier. You felt far too stuffed with her being so far in but nonetheless you were determined to let Kos transfer her child. You were her most devoted follower, you would do anything she wanted you too and you’d do it with pride.

Something large moves from Kos’s lower stomach and makes its way down to the ovipositor, causing a large murky bulge to slowly ride up. A bit of nervousness hits you, the embryo looks rather large and a tad developed. Perhaps Kos had been pregnant for a while, allowing the child to grow slightly.

You don’t have much time as you prepare yourself, feeling the embryo against you as it makes its way up before stopping just before it enters you. You wonder what’s happening but Kos resumes her transfer as she pushes it into your canal with a slight ‘pop’.

The feeling is strange yet you feel so blessed to be chosen as a vessel for a magnificent Great One like Kos, one you're so devoted to. Your hands clench and eyes scrunch as sweat tries to form on your skin as you feel the embryo slowly track through you until eventually it reaches the end, popping into your womb where it makes itself comfortable.

The sudden weight of the slightly developed embryo makes you lurch forward but Kos catches you with her hands, holding you until you're able to hold yourself. Your organs, surprisingly, are perfectly fine as they move to accommodate the new godly child, causing no pain or discomfort which was Kos’s doing.

Kos slowly lifts you off and places you onto her chest as she shifts her genitalia back to normal, which was practically nothing. Her hands feel around your body, ensuring there is nothing wrong. The only thing she sees is how exhausted you are, which she determines is not important to use her powers on.

She slowly swims back to the surface with you resting on her chest, breaching the surface and swimming gently back to shore the closest she could get without beaching herself.

Her hands slowly shake you awake and you look around, noticing your back at the beach with your altar standing proudly in the distance. You know what you have to do as you slide off of her and paddle to the shallow end, the weight of your stomach greatly weighing your speed down but you make it.

Kos watches as you walk onto the sandy beach, now pregnant and a little more curvier than you were before. She slowly sinks back into the depths of the ocean, disappearing from sight. She knows she will make the fertility blessing upon her child’s birth with you as its surrogate. Unfortunately for the Great One, she’d find herself in a nightmare soon enough, beached and lifeless.

You walk to your discarded robes and put them on, which are now a little tighter than you’d expect but you could simply make them bigger later. You look down at your stomach, feeling the child inside your womb move around. You’ve never felt more blessed to be chosen like this, the process felt so personal and connected, to you at least.

You feel something poke your back and you wince, reaching back to pluck it off and bring it to your face. It’s a shimmering scale of Kos, the largest you’ve gotten. You smile warmly as you walk over to your altar, placing it down next to the two other scales. This was Kos’s other gift to you and you cherished it.

You jump as you realise you simply must tell.. well show the hamlet your blessing. You make sure everything is fitted properly before making your way back to the hamlet to share the exciting news.

—————

In a restless nightmare. An expectant surrogate weeps over the corpse of a washed up Great One. She has been there for years upon years, tears turning into blood from overuse. Her large stomach cut open and void of the child growing inside it, brutalised and horrifically murdered she was.

The surrogate died on the corpse of the Great One, attempting to escape her pursuers who came all the way here to specifically target her first, killing all the other villagers in the process. It was a senseless murder from blood drunk hunters.

Her once pure white robes now a horrible bright, fresh red with splotches of dirt and grime littered throughout. It no longer sparkled beautifully like the scales of the Great One she died next too.

In the waking world, her body was horribly violated. The head was cut clean off to take back to Byrgenwerth. Her womb and the child that was so soon to be born ripped out to be taken there as well. Her blood drained completely from her body before being left next to the Great One, headless and empty.

In the nightmare, the endless rainfall patters onto the beach where a little altar once stood, now knocked down and useless. The surrogate continues her weeping, it’s all she can ever do with her restless spirit. That, and one other thing that she knows she wants to keep.

The spirit of the poor orphan, she can feel it squirm around and she has only seen the thing once when a horrid drunk hunter had found it’s way to the beach. It crawled out of Kos’s stomach, ignoring her completely but also seeming to protect her from taking any damage. The hunter was easily dispatched and the orphan went back to its rest, it’s hate fueling this nightmare.

The surrogate, you, mumble a prayer to the corpse of Kos but this prayer sounds more of a curse to others, but a prayer it is nonetheless. “Curse these fiends. Let their drunken massacre haunt them, take their children and their children forever true. Never let these beasts know peace, for as long as my blood is gone from my body, for as long as my child is taken, there is no rest for any hunter who is truly only a beast.”

The waves stand still. Kos is listening.

Chapter Text

The festering wound on your arm sizzles and pops disgustingly as it spreads. The pain is beginning to get to you as you begin to stumble, leaning onto Artorias for support as he wraps his arms around you to keep you up.

His large frame and strength allow him to easily support your quickly weakening form. Great concern etches into Artorias’ mind as he watches how you move and drag your sword, unable to support it.

“(Name), I think you should…” he stops as he looks at the massive sword you’ve always had with you, its weight becoming far too great for even you. If you continue holding onto it, he fears it will hurt and fatigue you even more before he can get you out of the Abyss.

He knows just how precious the sword is for you, considering you’ve had it for so long and just how powerful it is. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “let go of your sword.”

Even in your pain hazed state, shock still etched your face at his suggestion, “Artorias! Th..This sword has been with me for so long.” Your voice is slurred and weak, “I can…can’t just abandon it here..”

You look at your sword still stubbornly gripped in your wounded arm. You haven’t even thought of letting it go, not even to mend your spreading wound and infection. But this sword is precious to you, you don’t want to leave it.

“Please, (Name), we can come back to get it.” Artorias tries to negotiate with you, “once we get your wound treated we can come back.” He looks at your arm and grimaces in worry.

As you open your mouth to argue as the strange aggression returns, you lurch forward in pain and let out an agonised cry, holding onto your arm which is still holding onto your sword. Red hot pain seers your arm and the side of your body, like a thousand daggers digging into your muscles and bone.

Artorias quickly wraps his arms around you to support you, making sure you don’t collapse onto the hard ground as he yells out your name in shock. His heart aches as he watches you curl in on yourself in pain, strange black tears forming in your eyes.

You don’t notice your sword dropping from your wounded arm as you wrap your arms around yourself, vision blinding as you nearly scream in pain. You can hardly register how Artorias’s strong arms scoop you up, cradling you before taking off running to the entrance of the abyss.

The only thing you can see is Artorias as you shakily move your hand to grasp onto the blue cloth on his shoulders and neck, simply feeling him is enough to make you forget the majority of your suffering. Even in agony, you just want to hold onto him as much as he wants to hold and comfort you.

Artorias hardly pays attention to his path as he pays more attention to you, watching how your face contorts in suffering and how you squirm in his hold. He holds you closer to him, ensuring you won’t fall. He occasionally stumbles over a stray pebble as he doesn’t pay much attention to where he’s going but that doesn’t matter to him, what matters is getting you out of here.

“(Name), please don’t fall asleep.” He says as he notices your eyelids fluttering and breathing becoming shallow, “stay awake, please.” His pleads fall onto nearly deaf ears. He curses under his breath, he should have never come here with you! He was at fault for your injury! And he could be at fault for your death.

He never cried, he was far too strong to cry. Yet, he feels the strange burning of his nose and eyes as the unfamiliar, emotionally painful feeling of a tear sliding down his cheek imagining the love of his life, taken from him hours after his confession. He wouldn’t even be able to call you his for just one day.

If you die, he doesn’t know if he’ll allow himself to live much longer. If you die, he knows the abyss will claim another victim, him and he will welcome it just to die with you.

He doesn’t realise how fast he’s going until light makes itself known in his vision, there it is, the damn cursed entrance into your possible grave. Artorias looks down at you, your eyes nearly shut and your wound festering faster. “I promise, we will get out of here.” He has never broken a promise, yet he fears he might today.

As he gets closer to the exit, bloat heads and humanity sprites begin to gather to block his path. A new feeling blooms in his chest looking at the monsters that did this to you, an unfathomable, endless chasm of pure blood listed rage.

Artorias adjusts you to cradle you with one arm to free his other which reaches for the sword sheathed upon his back. He can feel his blood running through every vein, every muscle and nerve twitching in ruthless anger. His grip on his sword tightens so much to the point it’s handle cracks.

Every bloathead and sprite was reduced to a mass of flesh staining his armour and sword within moments. Every splatter of blood and guts, Artorias makes sure to guard you so it won’t spill onto your fragile form.

The sound of a rattling cough coming from you makes him stop in his tracks and look down at you, looking sickly and worse than before. He looks at the bloathead under his sword about to meet its end, instead of bringing it to its end he puts his sword back on his back. He has more important things to tend to.

A flood of light invades your vision as he exits the chasm with you in his arms. Your head pounds with agony that you are far too weak to react to. Your eyelids are far too heavy for you to keep them open and the last thing you see and hear before you close them is Artorias, panicking and begging for you to open your eyes.

Artorias feels terror grip in his heart, one he has never felt until now as you go limp in his arms. He immediately places his hand on your chest, feeling your weak heartbeat. Relief floods him as he feels the beating of your heart, but he knows it might not beat much longer if he doesn’t get you to a healer.

He sprints as fast as he can through the decaying, forgotten dungeons of Oolacile. He doesn’t realise just how long and hard he’s been running as he comes to the main area of Oolacile, citizens and children roaming around. He doesn’t pay attention to them as he focuses on finding a healer. He doesn’t want you to be treated here but he knows he wouldn’t be able to get you to Anor Londo in time if he tried.

He notices one and pushes through a crowd before bursting into the building, “someone! Please! Help me!” He shouts out as loud as he can before a doctor comes rushing up to him, the doctor doesn’t have much time to react before you are quickly shoved into the doctor's arms.

“Heal her. Do anything! Just don’t let her die!” He demands to the shaken up doctor. Artorias, blinded by his fear and rage, leans down to speak to the doctor with his eyes trained onto his, “if her condition gets worse in any way, I will tear you apart.” He promises the doctor.

“Y-yes, Sir Artorias.” The doctor shakily acknowledges the threat before calling to his assistants as he runs into the back, where he kept his most fragile patients.

Artorias watches with a sore heart and aching body as you disappear from his sight to be treated. He stands in the building, looking at his empty hands which once held your warmth. It feels painful just to be separated from you, painful just to see you cry and scream in agony.

In a daze, Artorias slowly turns and exits the building, slowly walking through the city to make his way back to the rotting dungeons. This is his duty, is it not? To rid the world of the abyss? Then why does it feel so wrong? So wrong to do this without you beside him? He was always a determined Knight Of Gwyn, the strongest in his rank.

But why was he so weak when it came to you? His heart pangs in agony as he finally realises just how much he loves you, how he wants to share his duty with you, forever and always. His thoughts consume him and before he realises it, he’s already at the horrid entrance of the chasm of the abyss.

He looks into the cold, seemingly endless darkness, the very same one that threatened to kill you and in turn, kill him. His hand reaches for his sword, unsheathing it as he knows his duty, his very own personal duty. To rid the abyss, not just for the world but your sake.

Newfound determination blossoms in his heart as he imagines you, right next to him, smiling up at him and beckoning him to go on. He takes a breath before he steps into the abyss, determined to not step out until it is vanquished.

He notices his own, old footprints and the smaller set of yours etched into the ground and he follows them, imagining your footprints are just you ahead of him and he must catch up, lest he be left behind. He picks up his pace into a sprint, not even noticing where your footprints ended as he continues deeper into the abyss.

The crushing weight and fear of the abyss is forgotten, replaced only by the imagined golden light of you, leading him further down. He suddenly stops as something hard clangs onto his foot and makes a rattling noise.

He looks down and his heart jumps in shock, it’s your sword. He slowly bends down and feels it, feeling every crack and chip. He even notices some scratches from your spars with him, this sword holds your memories, both good and bad. He can’t just leave it here, but yet again, how would he carry something so heavy?

He cracks his shoulders, if something belonged to you, no matter what it was, he’d return it to you. He grabs the sword's handle and begins to lift, straining his muscles as sweat pricks his forehead. With a strained grunt, he picks up the behemoth of a sword and sheathes it onto his back which nearly makes him fall over but he steadies himself.

Artorias looks ahead, the image of you gone, replaced with the very moment you were injured. The evil spreading on your arm. He imagined the worst, he’d come back to the healer and they’d ask how he would like the body to be wrapped or perhaps even worse, tell him they have to get rid of it before he could see you for the last time.

The abyss feels so massive now, so threatening. Artorias shakes his head and clench’s his fist, he cannot afford to think like this. He digs into his mind for memories with you to bring back his determination.

You laugh as he tells a stupid joke. You and him both sat under a large oak tree, shading both of you from the overwhelming heat of the sun. He sits right next to you, relaxed and happy as he looks at Anor Londo in the distance from the hill he sat upon with you.

The grass is soft and warm beneath him, the sky is cloudless. Many would consider this a perfect day but he wouldn’t, he’d only consider it a perfect day if he got to talk to you today. And today is now a perfect day.

“Artorias, do you ever think of the future?” You suddenly ask him and he looks over to you.

“I suppose I do,” he takes a moment before continuing, “why do you ask?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking.” You begin to admit to him, one of the few times you’ve been vulnerable with him, “just what am I to do? I know I have my duty as a knight, and I love it of course.” You shuffle a bit, “but just, what after that? What beyond guarding and sometimes killing?”

Artorias remains silent, contemplating before he speaks, “well, there are simple moments like these ones.” He doesn’t know what to say, he’s never thought beyond his duty until now.

“Yes I know that but.. just moments? Why not a life worth?” You look up into the cloudless sky, remembering your wish, “Artorias, I’ve only told Ciaran of this.” You turn to look at him, “but.. I’ve always wanted a family of my own, a husband and a daughter, but a son would be perfect too.” You admit to him, “it’s only..will I ever be able to have one with this duty? Will I live long enough?”

He’s quite shocked, he never took you for one wishing for a family. He doesn’t know what happened to the one that raised you, but he won’t ask. He moves his hand onto yours as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, “I wouldn’t worry, you're strong, the strongest woman I know. If you so crave a family, I know you’ll have one.”

You smile at him, feeling that strange mushy feeling in your heart just looking at him and hearing his voice, “thanks Artorias,” you suddenly snuggle closer to him, your head resting against his shoulders. The warmth of the sun slowly lulling you to sleep, “I’ll hold you to that promise.” Your eyes flutter shut as you fall into a peaceful nap.

Artorias’s heart feels like it will cry with happiness as you rest against him. He thinks of the words Ciaran had said to him just a week ago and he promises in his mind that he will be the one to grant you your dream.

Artorias comes back to his senses as he opens his eyes, not even realising he had closed them. The contrast of that perfect sunny day in the crushing darkness of the abyss is drastic. He takes a moment to recuperate as a new hope fills in his chest, determination and the promise he made to you just months ago rings in his head.

He won’t break a promise. Now he knows, he will do anything to never break a promise he had granted to you. His hand grips onto the hilt of his sword as he makes his way further into the abyss.

———-

Bloody and bruised, Artorias keeps up in his relentless assault on the Father Of The Abyss. The beast so hideous and horrible, one that matches just what he made. Hate etches into Artorias’s heart as he swings and slashes at the grotesque arm that attempts to slam down onto him.

Artorias wobbles a bit but he regains his footing, determined to end this monster and in turn, be able to see you again. He jumps high up, determined to finally end this horribly long battle as he lets himself fall onto Manus with his sword aiming straight down.

Manus lets out a roar of agony and rage as Artorias’s sword is plunged straight into his face, its tip coming out of his neck. Black blood gurgles onto Artorias sword before he takes it out and the body of Manus collapses, dead.

Artorias stumbles down the corpse of the beast, falling to his knees and using his bloodied sword to steady himself. He’s done it, the abyss will be no more. He’s never felt so clear headed in his life, it feels as if a fog was lifted from his mind and from the world.

No longer will the abyss spread and eat at Oolacile and threaten other parts of Lordran. But most importantly, he can see you again and you, hopefully, will be cured of your deadly ailment.

The thought of you sends a spark of strength through Artorias as he stands up, straining his tired muscles. He takes a step, his whole body protesting his movements but he takes another step, forever determined to get to you.

The hour of climbing to the top of the abyss is blurred into mere minutes to Artorias. Every ache of his muscles, every crack of his tired bones is pushed to the back of his mind as he finds the beautifully glowing exit of the abyss.

He doesn’t even feel the extra weight of your sword on his back as the only thing he needs right now is to know your safe. He hardly registers just where he’s going before he snaps back into reality as excited Oolacilians crowd him as he steps back into the centre of the city.

The crowd cries his name as he had freed them from the oppressive Abyss. He’d let himself revel in their praise if he didn’t have something weighing on his mind and his eyes locked onto the red logo of the healers. He gently pushes the crowd out of the way as he makes his way to the building and silently opens the door.

“Hello?” His tired voice calls out. For a few moments he’s met with silence before the doctor from before came scurrying out, relief across his face.

“Ah, Sir Artorias.” His voice trembles slightly, still a bit nervous of Artorias, “you’ll be pleased to know that Lady (Name), is in stable condition-“

The doctor gets cut off as Artorias moves him out the way, making his way to the room your being held in. He gently opens the door to not possibly startle you and peers in, seeing your form resting on a white cloth.

“(Name),” he gently calls out as he approaches your bedside. You don’t respond and he calls your name again, worry lacing his tone, “(Name)?” He reaches your bedside and looks down, noticing your eyes are shut and your chest moving up and down, you were sleeping.

The doctor enters the room, adjusting his glasses which Artorias had knocked off center. “Sir Artorias, as I was saying she is in stable condition,” he moves to Artorias as the doctors face etches in concern, “but… she is comatose.”

Artorias’s heart skips a beat, “what...” Is all he could muster out before he puts his hand on your shoulder and gently shakes you. This woke you up before, so why wouldn’t it now? Again, no response from you. He gently calls out your name a few times but you keep sleeping.

“Sir Artorias…” the doctor calls out and Artorias snaps his head to him, “she may be able to receive adequate care in Anor Londo.”

Artorias almost forgot about Anor Londors healers. They were revered for their expertise and were usually high-class clerics that were essentially promoted to royal healers and given more training and spells to use. If anything, they would be able to wake you up.

He can feel himself becoming hopeful already before speaking to the doctor, “when can I take her.” He asks, not wanting to accidentally harm you if he took you from your bed too early.

“Uh, well now.. if you’d like.” The doctor hesitantly says, having a hunch that Artorias plans to head for Anor Londo immediately, “but wouldn’t you like to stay? The people wish to thank you.”

“Apologies, but no.” He already knows what he wants as he carefully scoops you into his arms, ensuring your comfort even if you can’t feel anything. “I must get going immediately, farewell.” He bids the doctor farewell as he turns and leaves the building with you in his arms.

The moment he steps outside, he’s swarmed again by excited citizens singing his praises. A few have a confused face as they see you, unconscious and cradled in Artorias’s arms. “Sorry, I must get through.” He says as he moves some people out of his way, trying to get to the city's entrance way.

The citizens mostly move out the way but still watch as he begins to make his leave, not looking back, only determined to get you to Anor Londo as fast as he could. They are happy he has saved them but confused why he does not want the praise and gifts they planned for him.

Artorias only has one thing on his mind as he begins his long trek back to Anor Londo, to see you awake and happy again and to show you just how much he missed you.

————-

The entire day's walk back, Artorias hardly rested even if carrying both you and your behemoth sword. He didn’t care for his muscles that felt like they were melted into goo, or his bones that felt like they were being grinded into dust.

Every night that fell he would prepare the camp as always, mostly as always. He had combined both his and your bed into one, making a large, comfortable place to sleep. Even in sleep, he cuddled you and kept you safe.

He occasionally checked your wounded arm, it was still blackened but the wound itself had mended and disappeared. He wondered if the colour would stay as a scar of sorts, he wouldn’t care if it did, he’d love you even if you were covered in scars.

On the final day of travel, he reached Anor Londo and called for the healers who immediately came to both his and your aid. They took you from his arms and whisked you away to be treated. They took him to a non-emergency wing of the castle and treated his minor wounds and aching muscles.

He didn’t care for his ailments but the healers refused to let him out until he let them help him. He begrudgingly let them treat him, while they treated him, a few maidens came in and took your sword from his back to put it in your room.

When they finished, he immediately shot up and began to make his way to the infirmary where you were being treated. But to his surprise, you weren’t there and that’s when we was informed you were taken to your room.

He turned and left immediately, running up the stairs that led to the scratched doors of your room and slowly creaked it open. The room was dark and cold, but pleasantly so. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness but when they did he walked inside your room, closing the door behind him and approaching your bedside.

There you lay, still asleep but looking far better now. Before, your eyes had been sunken in and you looked sickly pale in some spots but now, you looked nice and healthy. All he had to do, was to wait for you to awaken.

And he did wait, he waited right next to your bedside every minute he had his own free time. He slept in your bed, right next to you whenever he was to go to sleep. He waited for three months.

Unbeknownst to him, you were in your own dream scape.

———-

The endless white void is strange to you, only recently had you ‘woken’ up in this place. You could only describe this place as everywhere and nowhere, wherever you went didn’t matter, you were there already even if you never realised it.

If your foot wasn’t on the ground, then that part of the ground didn’t exist. It was confusing and quite scary at first but you got used to it. The ‘floor’ itself was a darker grey and sounded like polished marble whenever you took steps on it.

Despite sounding like polished marble, it didn’t look like it or feel like it at all. It felt like rubber yet didn’t have its consistency so you didn’t sink into it.

For a while, you simply wandered here. You wondered how long you were here for, did time even exist here? Probably not. You never got tired, never needed to eat or drink, never anything.

You sit down on the strange floor, your beginning to become distressed with the whole lot of nothing here.

“(N)……”

You sit up as something, a sound, echos in the white void. You haven’t heard a sound other than your own footsteps, heartbeat and your own voice.

“Do…yo…...er…..me?”

The voice sounded familiar, it was masculine and deep, clearly a man’s voice. It was comforting to hear it and you stood up, looking for its source.

“I hop…e…..y..u…..wake….s…o…”

It’s hard to decipher at first what the voice is saying but every sentence it becomes more clearer.

“It’s m..e…Ar…rias…”

You tilt your head, whose name began with A? Your sure you remember knowing someone who’s name began with A, someone who was very important to you.

“Toda…y….I met with…Ciar…n… and….Gou..h..”

Those snippets of names also sound familiar as you begin to walk to the distant source of the sound. You felt strangely, clouded and confused and this voice was almost clearing away the ‘dust’ in your brain.

The voice is silent for longer than you would like but you pick up your speed, now running to where the sound came from. The voice speaks again.

“They said they mi..ss… you… I mis… you a lot too.”

Who did that voice belong to? A…A… Ar? Your rack your brain for the answer. Artor…Tor…Artorias…Artorias! You suddenly remember the name and the memories flood you.

You full sprint to his voice as the world almost crumbles around you. You wanted to see your knight, and by Gwyn you will.

———

Artorias holds onto your warm hand, his face buried in your sheets as he explains the day he had. He met with Ciaran and Gough, but Ornstein was far too busy to meet with him today. Then he had his usual guard duty, which he did, it felt like clockwork to him now.

Get up. Talk to Ciaran or Gough, sometimes Ornstein. Guard duty. Spent the rest of his time with you.

Of course, he loved every minute with you, even if you couldn’t do anything. He had begun to fantasise when you’d wake, fantasising when he’d kneel down and present you with a ri-

“Ar..Artorias?” Your voice pierces through his ears.

His head shoots up and he looks at your face, watching as your eyes slowly open and adjust to the brightness of the room. Your hand slowly turns to face up and weakly holds onto his.

He can hardly believe his reality as you wake up in front of him. He moves his free hand to pinch himself, to see if he’s dreaming but when he doesn’t wake and feels the slight pain. He knows everything is real.

He practically leaps onto you in a crushing hug as he rocks you back and forth, “oh, (Name), I missed you so much.” His voice wavers and cracks as emotions overwhelm him.

You smile and pat him on the back, “I missed you too, dear.” His hug nearly feels like he’s going to break your ribs, “perhaps you could ease off me a bit.”

Artorias realises just how hard he’s hugging you as he slowly calms down and pulls back, his hands still on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just…” it’s hard for him to find the words as that familiar feeling of a burning nose and constricting throat interrupts him.

You notice practically immediately and coo, “oh, my dear.” You slowly take his head into your arms and pull him closer, “please, you needn’t be strong in front of me.” You pull down his helmet to pat his hair as you feel his shoulders begin to tremble.

The sound of his choked sobs muffle into your chest as his emotions overwhelm him. He had been so worried for you, he feared for if you’d never wake. Many nights he had gone to his room to simply scream in anger, anger of the cruelty of your possible fate.

But now, you're awake and holding him, completely safe and fine. He couldn’t find enough stars to thank, enough worship to give to show just how grateful he was to finally hear and see you, like yourself again.

A few minutes later, he finally calms as he clears his eyes of tears. “Can you stand?” He asks, his voice croaky.

You turn and slip off your bed, onto to immediately stumble and fall onto Artorias who quickly catches you with a chuckle, “I suppose not.”

“Well… I have been asleep for a while.” You smile as he helps you steady yourself on your wakening feet, “I’ll need some time for the rest of my body to adjust.”

Artorias finally knows peace as he sees your smile. “I’ll have to tell everyone that you’ve woken.” He says softly, “Everyone will be so happy, but not as happy as I am now.” He leans down and gives you a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, Artorias.”

“I love you too, (Name)”

——————-

10 years later..

In recent years, the silver knights of Anor Londo had to take precaution in everything they’ve done or where they’re going. Always make sure to keep their weapon held firmly, always make sure to watch their legs and most importantly, don’t piss you or Artorias off.

But especially don’t piss you off.

The familiar sound of little feet hitting against the floor and mischievous laughter hits the sound of the lined silver knights and they tense up, ready to be possibly tormented.

The owners of the sounds turn the corner, two little girls and a little boy. The twin daughters of you and Artorias with their younger brother following behind them. The girls laugh as their brother chases them with a tiny, soft replica of their fathers sword.

As they run around, the knights watch. A lot of them love watching the children play but a lot of them know that they will soon be tormented by the little children.

A silver knight tenses up as the children approach him and immediately start to climb him. He stays as still as he possibly can but the children attempt to take his tight helmet off and he grimaces in pain, momentarily loosening his grip of his halberd, enough for your youngest son to take hold of it.

Despite being young, all of them were quite physically strong due to yours and Artorias’s genetics. Your son takes the halberd and thinks of it as a toy as he attempts to gab at the silver knight but is quickly thwarted when a large hand picks him up and takes the halberd out of his hands.

“Woah, you shouldn’t have that.” Artorias chuckles as he gives the halberd back to the silver knight, “and you two, leave the silver knights alone.” He firmly states as his daughters groan and climb down from tormenting the silver knight.

“I apologise for their actions,” he states to the knight.

“It is no worry, Sir.” The silver knight does a slight bow in respect before taking a few steps back to his post.

Artorias attempts to wrangle his children as they excitedly cling onto him, glad to see their father after a long day of guard duty. It’s quite hard to handle three hyper children.

“(Son name), stop moving so much.” He tries to order as his son squirms in his hold, accidentally poking his eye which he seems to do a lot, “ow! Again with the eye.” Artorias’s eye waters as he blinks rapidly.

“You two,” he tries to calm his daughters as they run around excitedly, “calm yourselves.” His children never seem to quite listen to his commands. But he knows one way to fix this.

“Do you want me to call over your mother?”

“No!” The three of the children scream at once as they calm down, knowing how firm you could be.

Artorias turns to the silver knight and smiles, “works every time.”

“Call me for what?” Your voice startles Artorias as he spins around and notices you, your brow raised.

“Ah, (Name), well it was…” he can’t find an excuse as you wait impatiently for it. “Uh, nothing..”

“Oh really?” You hold your hands on your hips. Your seven month pregnant stomach causing you great weight discomfort. “I came all the way here for nothing.”

Artorias knows he’s in for a possible chewing out if he doesn’t fess up, “Well, I just needed your help.” He sheepishly admits, “with the children.”

You sigh, at least he told the truth and you can’t be mad at him for long, “I’ll get them to bed,” you look to your children and glare, they know to follow your orders and scurry to their rooms.

“Thank you, honey.” Artorias breathes a sigh of relief, “now, how about I help you to bed.” He knows how uncomfortable you are and how much your back and feet hurt from your pregnancy as he scoops you up and takes you to your shared room with him.

Artorias has never felt happier, to make your dreams come true and his own to be realised.

Chapter Text

A/N: (No romance or smut or anything. Just an idea I had of ‘how did the hunter transform into the squid baby’ and wanted to expand on it. Also a bit of fodder while I write more fics, sorry if I take a while, catching up on school work.)

You're floating.

Your sense of touch is the first thing to return to you. What you can touch is a thick viscous liquid that encases the entire area around you. It almost feels like you're encased in some sort of jello, perhaps a vat of jello or some other thing.

It’s warm wherever you are, uncomfortably so, it feels almost suffocating. Speaking of suffocating, you don’t know how but you breathe perfectly fine. In and out, in and out, you breathe as if you're out in an open field taking in all its available oxygen.

How are you breathing? You're not sure and your hazy mind doesn’t care to think much about it, all that matters is that you're breathing and seemingly alive. The thick liquid you're in shouldn’t be able to let you breathe but your mind doesn’t register that.

The next sense to come to you is your sense of smell. This sense didn’t matter much, you tried to smell your surroundings but the liquid prevented you. You only caught a faint whiff of a moon-lit scent, the familiar smell of metal from blood, and another smell that you couldn’t put your hand on, the only way you could describe it, was fleshy.

Trying to smell anything in this… this prison was impossible, as the thick liquid would get stuck in your nose, causing you to sneeze it out on reflex and shake your whole body in consequence. But you tried anyway, trying to hold onto that strange moon scent you swore you had smelt before.

Hearing is the next sense to be granted clarity, although there wasn't much to hear. Bubbles popped in your ears and floated past your head, occasionally brushing against your warm body. You strain your ears to hear anything else and you hear it.

Bump….

Bump….

Bump…

What sounded like a heartbeat, one that wasn’t yours, rang into your ears. It was loud enough to pierce through the thick jell. It sounded almost strange, not like the average human's heartbeat but more like an imitation, a fake.

Your sense of sight was hardly restored to you as you tried your hardest to peel open your eyes only to find them shut by something. You struggled to move your arm and hand to feel over your face, grazing over what felt like thick slime.

Oddly, this doesn’t send much panic through you. You're much too tired to panic about this strange goo, to panic about anything when you have much more important things to worry about, like.. like..

What did you have to worry about? You're sure you needed to do something, something very important and imperative to get done as fast as possible. You don’t know what it is but the need to do it is nagging at you. But first, you need to get out of this strange prison.

Trying to move was a hassle, even just moving your finger felt like trying to move a mountain, you were just so terribly tired and exhausted. Your right hand grazes against your flesh and you realise you're entirely naked, bare as the day you were born.

Feeling around for any semblance of clothing, you come across your stomach and eventually your belly button, where something long and slimy is attached to it and leading down to somewhere in the prison.

It’s bumpy and rigid as you weakly grasp onto it. You try to pull, tug at it, anything to get it off but it’s firmly planted onto your skin and your strength is comparable to that of a newborns. Even just pulling it by the slightest makes you even more tired.

Suddenly, your entire prison shakes and moves but only for a moment. Bubbles burst past your ears and body as you’re steadied back into the centre. Whatever you’re in, is moving and clearly alive. It’s not a prison made of bars and metal. It’s a prison of organic flesh, you're inside something.

Kicking out your legs with a burst of energy, you find that the confines of wherever you're exactly in, stretch in accordance to any squirming. Your feet feel the ‘walls’ of the prison and graze over what is clearly veins and bumpy muscle.

You note it’s useless to kick and bring your tired legs back in. Perhaps you could scope out the area and find a weak spot or an opening, if only you could open your eyes.

Reaching up again, you feel the thick slime coating your eyes and try to wipe it off but only finding it sticking to your hands and still covering your eyes. You try again, this time, your right eye is cleared just slightly from the muck and you slowly open it.

Blackness is what greets you, at first you thought you had either gone blind or your eye was somehow still shut but blinking rapidly confirms your eye was open, and putting your hand out in front of you confirms you are not blind.

Straining your neck to look around doesn’t help much, the only thing in this ever expansive darkness is small specks of glowing white, a lot like stars but mulled as if behind some thin layer of skin. You fully expected to see red, purple and other fleshy colours but not this.

So far, there seemed to be no places for you to possibly escape from this bizarre situation as you twist and turn, tangling the strange cord attached to your stomach around you. Everything was strange and wrong, yet eerily calming as if you were being cradled by whatever was outside your confines.

The heat of your prison had become a warm comfortable blanket instead of a suffocating one, causing you significant less distress. Whatever it was outside, it knew of your conniptions inside and was making an effort to calm you.

What felt like strange hands held the fleshy confines of your prisons as something, darker than the darkness itself, wrapped around the protective sheet of flesh to protect it further. You doubted whatever you were in needed protection. Who or what would find you? Wherever you were.

You look at your hand again and reel back in shock. Your hand, specifically your fingers, were being melted into each other. It wasn’t painful or really felt like anything, only fuzzy and tingly, like you hit your funny bone. Your skin was taking on a slimy, dark tone which reminded you a lot of a squid.

Your hand was no more after just a few minutes, being melted entirely into a pitch black, blob of sorts that had already begun to merge into your body. You reach up your other hand and notice its slow decay has started as well but something else was bothering you, a tingling sensation just below your nose.

Using your free, unmelted hand you felt around and you could feel what felt like tiny tentacles beginning to burst and ripple under your skin, specifically around your mouth. You would scream, if you had the energy to do it, if you even had the mouth to do it. While you were distracted with your hand, you never noticed your mouth had melted shut.

The strange goo that you once wiped off your eye had begun to drip and seal it shut again, sealing you off into the unknown once more. Whatever was happening to your body, it was far beyond your control and just barely beyond your limit for comprehension.

Well, if you can’t do anything about it, why try? The gentle swaying cradle of your prison had begun to lull you back to the dreamless sleep you had woken up from just minutes ago. All you wanted to do by now was sleep, yes, sleep would be excellent. In sleep, you didn’t need to worry about what was happening outside or to your body.

Soon enough, your mind slips back into its unconscious form. Unknowing of the transformation taking place to its body.

————-

Outside, the Moon Presence cradles the lunar womb it had created specifically for you. The moon acting as its womb to hold a child, what soon to be its child to be exact.

As a great one, it could never have a child of its own accord and its former surrogate child was taken from it, by you. Yet it held no resentment, no anger, it only saw another child for it to take. Yearning never stops.

With its first child, it never attempted to transform him. But you were different, you had defied it when it tried to take you into its embrace. You had fought against it with all your might and almost, almost brought it down.

It knew then and there, that you were perfect and far too dangerous to keep as your human, mortal form. It was no true hassle to take your consciousness and make you fall into an artificial slumber, one long enough for the transformation to be complete.

But even then, you had woken up in the cradle and it had to lull you back to sleep. You were truly worthy of becoming a great one yourself in the Moon Presence, ‘eyes’ if anyone could call the holes in its face that.

The Moon Presence wouldn’t take care of your infant form, it didn’t know how to, but all it knows is that it wants a child. It knows that the artificial life in the dream will take care of you, that’s what her new purpose would be.

The only thing it would do, is let your new childhood begin and come back for you occasionally as you grow. It watches your shrinking form inside the lunar light, watching as your legs and arms merge together and your head transforms into a strange tentacled mass.

You were in your perfect, new form now. Now, the Moon Presence finally has what it always wanted, its eternal duty for yearning now done. Slowly, the Moon Presence’s clawed hand phases through the thin skin of the womb and gently wraps around you.

It knows to be gentle with you, you are fragile and young now. It slowly takes its hand out, leaving a hole in the skin to allow you out with it. The thick liquid that was once held within the womb spilled out, falling onto the pristine white flowers below and land with a sizzling sound, eating the organic life.

You writhe in your new mothers hold, not really understanding what’s going on and all the new senses available to you. You can hear so many things, so many things you never knew or can’t describe what they sound like. You felt so many new things, indescribably strange things. The worst part of it all, you could feel your memories slipping.

You try to hold onto your old bodies memories, the memories of Alfred, the memories of the Doll, the memories of Eileen, the memories of the old man…who? What was his name? All you could remember of the sad old man was the glint of a scythe and eventually a cry of defeat.

You try to keep your memories alive, remember The Executioner, The Crow, the fake woman in the dream. The one with a pretty dress and pretty face, and a pretty personality. Slowly, she disintegrates in your mind.

Eventually, every face you ever beheld had melted into a mush of indescribable mass. Every word spoken to you, turned into a messy jumble. All these new senses and feeling the painful thievery of your past self causes you to do the only thing you can do, squirm and try to wail.

The Moon Presence watches as you squirm and try to wiggle out of its hold. It’s the only thing that can hear your otherwise silent crying, nothing else but it and others like it would ever hear your wailing. It brings its arms closer to its toothy chest and rocks you gently, responding to your cries and trying to calm you down.

Unfortunately, it knows that the Doll wouldn’t be able to hear your screams or cries for help but it also knows that soon, you wouldn’t cry or scream anymore. You’d have no reason too, once all your memories are gone, you’d only ever know of being a Great One, you’d never know of your hunters past or your friends and enemies.

The Moon Presence slowly floats out of the flowering fields with you in its arms, slowly calming. Its ‘face’ holes move slightly as it calls over the being of its creation, the Doll. It remembers when its previous child asked for life, and it gave him it, he didn’t like it but it never understood why.

The Doll slowly walks on the stone pathway, coming face to face with the Moon Presence. She isn’t scared of it, she doesn’t know fear.

“Ah, the hunter.” She remarks as she notices the small squid-like creature In the Moon Presences arms as it holds out its hands to her, offering for the squid to be taken by the Doll.

The Doll wraps her hands around the squid, you, and brings you into her gentle hold. You don’t struggle anymore, you only sniffle before going silent and feeling around whatever was holding you with your tentacles. You can only ‘see’ with the tentacles as you had no eyes, or more accurately you had no idea yet how to see without eyes.

You feel cold hands run across your new body and the feeling of something important leaving, something that you didn’t want to leave, like wanting your mother. You wriggle a bit in the Dolls hold and she holds firmly onto you so she doesn’t drop you.

“Oh, Hunter.” She coos as she misinterprets your wriggling as discomfort of the cold. In the dream, it is quite cold without a direct sun and it’s quite cold now because of the events that transpired just a mere hour ago. Just an hour ago you were human, her moon-lit hunter. But now, you're an infant, a great one in your childhood's beginning.

“Are you cold?” She asks, unknowing if you understand her or if she would ever understand you. She takes your small wriggle as a ‘yes’ and wraps the shawl that was around her shoulders, around your body. The Doll doesn’t know if that would be good enough to warm you. She'll use her body to warm you if she could, but she doesn't have the warm blood to do so.

You don’t wriggle anymore, the warmth of the shawl is quite nice. You don't have anything to worry about now, the only thing you can ‘think’ of is things you never knew existed and how you’ll spend every minute. You only want your new mother, and soon you’ll be old enough to traverse into the realm she resides but for now, you simply enjoy the shawl and the hold of the artificial life.

Chapter Text

Content: Virginity Loss, basic sex, maybe some wrong lore? Look, Elden Ring lore is crazy.

You lay on the stone wall of a crumbling church, hand clutched over your missing right eye. Blood gushes forth from the fresh wound, coating the side of your face and dripping onto your chest and neck. Pain seethes through your head with every beat of your heart, why were you damned to this?

Just mere hours ago you had your eye and were perfectly fine, thriving in fact. Everything was perfect, you had fresh food and a nice bed, friends and living at a place of worship as a maiden. It all fell apart so quickly.

It was a normal day for you, until your elders had called you over and introduced you to a Tarnished. They told you to bond and turn his runes into strength, offer guidance and just be there for him. You couldn’t form a bond with the Tarnished nor interact with runes.

Your elders were appalled, you were defective. A defective maiden was of no use, but they said they knew a way to possibly fix this. They sent the Tarnished away and attempted to blind you, digging a knife into your right eye, tearing it out. They believed blinding you would lure out your promise, it didn’t.

They had enough mercy to test if it’s working just seconds after taking your right eye, but when it didn’t, they quickly turned against you. They screamed and yelled, attempting to hit you to drive you away from the church. You had run away on your own accord, knowing if you stayed, the knights that guarded the church and listened to the elders would kill you.

You keep your hand over your gushing right eye, you need to find some bandages or something to stop the bleeding soon or you could be in trouble. The scent of blood can attract predators and losing too much would spell your death. But as a maiden, you were raised to be docile and peaceful, so being out in the wild you've already doomed yourself as you have nothing to defend yourself.

Hearing the heavy thudding of hooves makes you look up, attempting to focus your messed up depth perception of your left eye. What you could see was a blob, moving up and down just a distance away. From the sound of hooves you could guess it was a horse, with someone on top of it.

Whoever was on it, clearly saw you and was heading straight for you. Your heart races, fearing that whoever it was had malicious intentions. As they get closer you can tell, it was a Tarnished atop of the back of a horse? You thought it was a horse, but it had horns and was stockier than usual.

The Tarnished and his steed get closer and closer until he’s stopped and standing right infront of you. The horse, or whatever it was, sniffs you as The Tarnished looks down at you, examining you. Perhaps, he was seeing if you were a threat, so you speak up.

“Ah…” you take a deep breath of pain in, “a Tarnished… I’m afraid that I’m no use for you..” you begin, already knowing you can’t do anything for him. “You needn't waste your time here.. with me..a defective maiden.” Your voice is weak, strained and slurring due to your blood loss.

The Tarnished doesn’t seem to be dissuaded at all as he slides off the back of his steed. As he lands, you flinch, seeing his sword held firmly onto his hands and he notices, quickly dropping his sword onto the ground and putting his hands up to show he’s not a threat as he approaches.

“Hmm, you are a…strange Tarnished.” You mumble as he comes closer before eventually coming to a stop, standing just a few feet from you. “I’ve nothing to offer you.. as reward or recompense… if that’s what you seek.” You keep trying to dissuade him, after all, you’ve been taught to fear most Tarnished as they are unpredictable.

He looks down at you, having noticed the horrid amount of blood falling from your eye which is hidden behind your clutching hand. He sees no reason not to help, be it even if there is no reward for him to reep afterwards. He turns back to Torrent and rummages around in the bags on the saddle.

You watch as he searches for something, growing weaker and weaker by the second. By now, you could hardly move your head to look around and that was noticed by the Tarnished as he walks over to you. In his grasp, is a roll of fresh bandages.

Your face contorts into an unsure expression as you weakly reach out to take it from him, afraid he would grab you, but he didn’t. As you take it from him, he backs up understanding your fear. “..My thanks…” is all you could mutter as you slowly unravel it.

Wrapping it around your head was a lot harder than you expected with your shaking and drowsiness. It was a sloppy mess, some of the bandaging hanging loose but it did its job, mostly. Blood already seeps into the cloth, staining it red but keeping it from gushing out. A small droplet of blood escapes and trails down your cheek, like a tear.

“You’ve helped me..” you say, a little stronger now and look up at The Tarnished, “with no promise of reward? I suppose I’ll give you what I can, my name. It is (Name).” You tell him your name and he mentally notes it down.

“If I could give you more than just my name, I truly would..” you feel guilt nibbling at your very soul and strangely something else.. something warm, and chaotic in nature but you brush it off and continue speaking, “say… Tarnished, I know my request might be sudden and strange but.. could you perhaps take me with you on your journey?”

You don’t know what but something is compelling you to search, search for what? You aren’t sure but you know it’s blazing hot and perhaps this Tarnished can help you. And in return, you could care for him.

When he doesn’t respond right away, you speak again, “I know, I know… a blind, useless maiden asking to join you on a perilous path. It’s absurd, but I feel something, I must be somewhere. I cannot defend myself, but you can.” You fidget with your fingers, “I won’t make myself a nuisance, I’ll help with any chore and errand that I can.”

The Tarnished seems to be considering as he puts his finger up to his chin for a few moments but then he nods, accepting your offer and extending his hand to help you up.

“My most sincerest thanks, Tarnished.” You take his hand and he gently pulls you up to your feet. As you stand up, you notice he’s about a head taller than you but that doesn’t intimidate you, if anything it makes you feel more comfortable. If he’s intimidating to others, then enemies won’t bother him as much and in turn, bother you.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you over to Torrent and gestures for you to get on with a pat on the saddle. You reach up and attempt to pull yourself up, but still being weak from blood loss, you can’t hoist yourself up.

The Tarnished notices and puts his hand on the bottom of your thighs to push you up and onto the saddle, his hands nearly grabbing your butt. You're sure it was a mistake as you get comfortable, scooting back a bit to make room for him.

He shakes his head and motions for you to move up instead with his hand. You tilt your head, confused but do as he says and scoot to the front most of the saddle. You feel the steed lurch slightly as he steps up and onto the saddle, directly behind you.

Your back is pressed against his front and his head is nearly atop of yours. His hands come around your body to reach the reins and he kicks his foot, sending the steed to start trotting.

“Say, do you have a name? Or would you prefer me to call you Tarnished?” You ask him, hoping for an answer but he only grumbles, which doesn’t answer your question, “I’ll call you Tarnished, I suppose.” He seems fine with the idea.

The path you and him travelled was mostly fine, only ever having to speed up just two times to escape pursuing enemies. The warm sun had begun to sink below the horizon as he slows his steed down to a stop and dismounts, offering his hand to help you down.

“Oh, are we stopping here?” You ask as you take his hand and slide off. He nods, confirming this is a stop. You know how you want to be useful, you could set up the camp for him. “Tarnished, I wish to be useful. Please, let me do an errand for you.”

He seems to be okay with the idea and you walk to the back of his steed to get to his bags, where you assumed his camping materials would be. You were trained in the church to set up a camp, as you were supposed to set it up for your Tarnished when you bonded with one. You suppose this could be your Tarnished.

Taking the camping items out from a heavy bag, you set down the supports first as The Tarnished watches. Setting up the cloth and fireplace was easy, it was always the easiest part for you. Soon enough, the camp was all set and ready for use.

“I hope this is satisfactory.” You state and settle down on the cloth you set down for yourself. The Tarnished simply gives you a thumbs up, signifying he likes your work. He walks to the unlit fireplace and to your surprise, sets it ablaze easily.

He walks over to his respective spot and sits down, doing his own thing while you simply watch the transfixing flames. They are far too captivating for a simple blaze, why? The warmth, death and life they promised suddenly make themselves known to you.

The hands of the flames twist and stir, eating, destroying their fuel that is the wood. The wood is being reduced to ash upon the grassy ground, dead but still holding potential. It’s back to the beginning of its cycle, into the ground and you don’t know what form it will take after this.

There’s a flick of an orange, chaotic flame in your right eye, as if someone drove a whetstone upon a blade in the abyss that is your missing eye. Is it a hallucination? You think so and snap out of your hypnotised state.

The Tarnished, while you were ‘busy’ had fallen asleep. You notice just how high the moon is, how long were you staring at that flame? The wave of tiredness answers you; far too long.

You lay down, not used to how hard the ground is. But your tiredness makes you not care, all you want to do is sleep. However the only thing that ran through your mind before you shut your eyes is that flame, dancing in your mind, dancing in your blind eye.

———

You wake up before the Tarnished, just as the sun bleeds into the horizon. Speaking of bleeding, your bandages are sullied in your dry blood and need to be replaced. Unwrapping them from your head was easier but you hated the feeling of the wind in your empty eye socket, it didn’t hurt but it felt so wrong.

You reach into your dirty robes, stained with dry blood and grime and pull out the roll of bandages The Tarnished gave you. You make an effort to silently unravel a good length to not wake him, not wanting him to possibly get mad at you.

Taking the unravelled fresh bandages, you start to wind it around your head, better this time but still a bit sloppy to your inexperience as a few stray pieces fly loose. Luckily, it seems the persistent bleeding had stopped sometime during the night and the campfires flame died aswell.

Getting up, you wonder what you can do. Usually you’d get up at this time to do your chores, but what chores were there to do in the camp? An idea pops into your head, making breakfast for him as a thanks.

You walk over to his steed, who is asleep and rummage in one of the bags, finding a few pieces of meat and surprisingly, eggs. You find an unused pan in one of his bags and set it on the campfire, already working on reigniting its beautiful flame.

It sparks to life with fervour and you place the meat on it, then crack the eggs on the other side of the pan to cook them. Eventually, the breakfast you made is done. Although, there isn’t much as there wasn’t a lot of supplies and you decided that The Tarnished should be fed.

Making his plate, you put it down infront of his still sleeping form. The enticing smells ruminate in the air and catch the nose of the sleeping Tarnished as he shuffles, slowly awakening to see you, sitting on your side and staring at the flames again.

The second thing he notices is a carefully made plate of food in front of him, it’s fresh and well made. He sits up and picks it up without a second thought, having not had a good breakfast in so long.

“You're awake,” your voice rings out, “I hope you don’t mind but I used some of the materials in the bags to make you food.” You admit, hoping it will be alright. Based on how he scarfs down his food without a second thought, it’s fine with him.

He suddenly stops, noticing that you have no plate in front of you or anywhere for that matter. He points to his plate and then to you, you understand his question immediately, “oh, I don’t need to eat right now. I’m fine.” You smile.

He doesn’t seem at all satisfied with your answer as he splits his food directly in half and walks over to you, offering you the plate. You put your hands up and shake your head, “no, no it’s fine. You’ll need it more than I will.” You do want something to eat but you think you can hold out until lunch.

You let out a gasp of shock as he plops himself right beside you, not taking no for an answer. He thrusts the plate to you, wanting you to take it. You let out a sigh and accept your defeat, taking the plate from him and you expect him to stand up but he doesn’t. He wants to make sure you're fed.

You slowly take some bites of the food, it was surprisingly better than you thought. You thought you were an alright cook but you proved yourself wrong as you finished your portion and that makes the Tarnished ease up on you, standing up and moving over to his steed.

“Are we leaving already?” You ask, already noting how to take down the camp as fast as possible. He nods and you go with your plan, taking down the tents, campfire and other items and putting them back into the bag. Once again, he motions for you to sit on the front of the saddle while he sits behind.

He kicks the side of Torrent to get him going and the second day of your journey begins. It’s a few hours of simple trotting or occasionally sprinting. As you and him travel through Liurnia, you perk up. “Tarnished.. I’m not sure if this will be valuable information for you, but I can sense something.” Your words peak his interest.

“I’m unsure of where it’s coming from, but it dances like a flame.” You pause, trying to feel that familiar feeling of frenzied heat and dance, “I feel power, immense power coming from it.” Your words are cryptic, even to you but the Tarnished noted this down in his mind. Perhaps you were more than a simple maiden he wished to help.

—————-

Hours turned into days and days into weeks. You’ve been with this Tarnished for weeks by now, having bonded with him. While you're still defective and can’t help him with strength, you're there when he needs you.

Unbeknownst to you, The Tarnished had feelings blooming in his chest. It was hard to pinpoint why he exactly became infatuated, you always cooked him excellent meals, made the camp, brushed Torrent, and you were simply there. He never knew he needed someone to come back too, he even began to feel excited whenever he was coming back from a dangerous errand.

He sits behind you now, gently wrapping fresh bandages around the side of your face. You recently let him help you with bandaging, and he did a great job at it, ensuring it was tight and nothing was loose. By now, your wound was completely healed but the gaping hole of your missing eye made you very insecure.

A tap on your shoulder indicates he’s done as he stands back up, walking over to his spot to sharpen his blade. “Thank you, Tarnished.” You thank him for his help. As of late, the need to be somewhere and your captivation with flames had been at an all time high.

Every night you dreamed, dreamed of a flame that was growing bigger whenever you moved closer to its perceived location. You noticed that if you strayed with the path, the flame in your dreams would get smaller. You told the Tarnished of this and he seemed extremely interested, so you always told him of your dreams.

“We’ve been getting closer, it's just within our grasp.” The sense of feeling was so strong, like a pull towards something whispering your name. As you got closer to where you wanted to go, you almost felt that your blindness was letting up due to how bright the abyss in your eye was becoming.

“It’s below.. below somewhere.” You have an inkling of where that ‘below’ could be, “Leyndell…” you absentmindedly say, not knowing that the Tarnished had already set his next course of action to searching Leyndell for someplace to get below it.

He doesn’t want you to come. More accurately, he didn’t want you to get hurt. He’s been to Leyndell before and he knows it’s not a place for you, so he wants you to stay at the camp. He’s not much of a talker but he does occasionally say something, usually one word.

“Stay.” His voice spooks you, this is his second time he’s said anything. He’s only ever said “Torrent.” To tell you his steed's name. You’re glad he seems to be opening up to you, as you’ve opened up to him.

“Stay at the camp?” You ask and he nods, which you don’t argue, you’d prefer to be here. Silence overtakes the area as the stars begin to decorate the skies, illuminating the darkness. You look over to your Tarnished again, he looks so tense.

Even if he’s wearing full armour, you can tell his shoulders are tense and his jaw is clenched. His hands clench with deep thought. You aren’t sure why he’s so tense, but perhaps you could help him.

“Tarnished.” You say and walk over to him before sitting right next to him, which causes him to flinch in surprise. “Your tense.” You reach out to hold onto his arm, to which he doesn’t protest, “why don’t you rest? I’ll be here when you wake, or whenever you need me.”

Your words make his walls collapse as he grabs onto you, pulling you onto his lap suddenly as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He never knew that he needed to hear those words, that someone would be there for him but now that he heard it, he never wants to go without it.

Your face lights up at his embrace, he holds onto you like you’ll disappear if he lets go. You know that Tarnished go without companions that much, often being alone for so long. A wave of tiredness hits you, the effects of the night had begun.

You can hear his heartbeat as you get yourself comfortable, letting your eyes flutter shut and fall asleep. His strong arms supporting you as he slowly lets himself lay down and positions you to lay atop of him, like a warm blanket of his own.

He falls asleep quickly after you, relaxed and happy.

———

In your dreams, you walk in an abyss. It’s so dark here that you can hardly see your hands in front of your face. This dream is strange, unlike all the others you’ve been having. It’s cold and dark, the complete opposite of what you had seen.

Suddenly, in the distance. An ember of orange, twisting light. It’s small but it’s still a place to go and you pick up your pace, jogging over to where the ember would be.

No matter how far you walked or ran, it never got closer, it seemed as if it was impossible to get too. The ember flickers and sparks with life suddenly, its seething arms of frenzied flame twist and writhe.

You aren’t afraid of it, it calls to you instead. The flames in the distance turn and dance, as if trying to form something until it finally does. What looks like a hand, but with only three fingers which are gangly, darkened and riddled with burn marks appears.

It reaches out for you, struggling to do so as it quivers and shakes but eventually you can feel the fingers wrap around your body and press, press into your skull with its thumb. It doesn’t hurt, and you aren’t scared.

Flames coat your vision and even appear to leak out of your missing eye socket. You can’t do anything but stare as new information, new ideas, new everything is beamed into your head by whatever this thing is.

The world burning down, resetting to absolute zero, to ashes. The Erdtree, broken and being the source of the flames. No, not just flames, the flame of frenzy. That’s what it was, that’s what was calling for you deep below Leyndell.

The fingers disappear into ash as your brain processes so many new things, it almost feels as if it would collapse. You clutch your face, attempting to calm yourself as you scream. You don’t know why you scream, but it's all you could do.

Soon, you go quiet. Everything has made itself known to you now, the sins of The Golden Order, the horrific state this world is in. It’s better if it all burns down, to begin anew in a land better than this.

You know you're far too weak to inherit the flame, but you know who can, your dear Tarnished.

————

Waking up, you find yourself atop of your Tarnished. You weakly smile as you notice he’s still sleeping and slide off of him, being careful not to wake him.

The sun had begun to rise already, painting the skies a light orange and pink. In the near distance, you can spot Leyndell and can practically feel the flame writhing inside of your empty eye socket. Who knew that getting your eye torn out, finally made you see the truth.

Placing your hand on your Tarnisheds shoulder, you shake him awake. He slowly gets up and stretches, before turning to you. Usually you don’t wake him up unless it’s for something important.

“My Tarnished.” You begin, “it’s been revealed to me. The sins of this world, the horrific acts concluded here. Blood stains this ground, blood of the innocent, of the guilty. There is nothing, nobody to quell the violence of this world and there never will be.” You take a breath, “unless, it is destroyed.”

Your suggestion doesn’t make the Tarnished flinch, he’s already on board with your plan. “Please my Tarnished, inherit the frenzied flame. The three fingers lie below Leyndell, they patiently await your arrival. Become the Lord Of Frenzied Flame.”

Your request resonates with the Tarnished. He knows what he must do and he slowly nods and then suddenly takes your face into his hands, “Wait for me.” He orders as he rubs his thumb on your cheek.

“I’ll always be right here, where you left me.” You don’t know why, but the sense of undying loyalty to the Tarnished makes you feel complete, as if you were no longer a defective maiden but a full fledged one. You would call yourself a maiden of the flame, if your new lord would allow it.

He embraces you in a hug for just a few moments before reluctantly letting go and walking over to Torrent, hopping onto his back. He takes one last look at you and you wave a temporary ‘farewell’ to him. He nods his own farewell before kicking the side of Torrent and riding off.

You watch as he disappears into the tree line, feeling a sense of loss when he departs but you know it’s only temporary. When he comes back, which you hope is soon, he’ll have inherited the flame of frenzy.

That day would come far sooner than you could ever expect.

—————

Apparent by the twisting ball of frenzied flame congregating from the base of the broken Erdtree. He had done it, he inherited the flame of frenzy and brought it upon the world. You couldn’t be more excited.

You can see in the distance as the flame spreads, eating and destroying everything in its wake, reverting all destroyed material back into ash. Flecks of fire and embers land near the camp but never catch fire for some reason, only ever spread around it instead and never exactly on it.

The sound of heavy footsteps makes you look down from admiring the burning sky to see what was approaching.

It’s him, your new lord. His head replaced by a glowing ball of flame, reaching out in every which way as he calmly approaches you and you bow respectfully, “my lord, bless your ascension.”

He puts his hand out in a ‘stop’ gesture and points up, indicating for you to stand up tall before he speaks, “Do not call me lord, do not bow.” His voice is ever so strange now, but you can still hear snippets of his old voice etched in.

“Oh, my apologies.” You nearly bow again in reflex but stop yourself, “what would you like for me to call you, surely you deserve a title as grand as you.”

Your praise is sweet music to his ears but he wants something else to ring in his ears and he wants you to know that you are his equal. He walks up closer to you, his right hand clenched with licks of fire reaching out between the gaps of his fingers.

He stops directly in front of you, his right hand unravelling as he gently caresses the right side of your face, running his thumb over the bandages covering your missing eye. “Stay still.” He orders, and you wonder what he’s doing.

The feeling of warmth nibbling on the side of your face confuses you, but you realise he’s pressing into the side of your face with his palm alight with the flame of frenzy. Surprisingly it doesn’t hurt, but feels regenerative, refreshing.

You become disoriented as the feeling of skin fixing itself and your missing eye being replaced with a new one. Slowly your right eye is replaced and your full vision is restored. He takes his palm off and reaches for your bandages, gently unravelling them.

He takes the bandages off and watches as you open your new eye. It’s a bright orange and small twists of red flickering flame resonate within it. He believed it to be the most beautiful thing, not the eye but you in your entirety.

Seeing with your full vision makes you confused for a moment before your brain recalibrates and you smile up at him, realising what he’s done for you, “my greatest thanks! I’ve not the words to express my gratitude properly!” You wish to hug him but don’t want to possibly offend your new lord, even if he doesn’t want you to call him that.

“I believe I told you, I wish to not be called your lord.” He repeats his earlier statements, “you are an equal to me.” He states, shocking you. How could you possibly be in his liege? It was near impossible.

He reaches behind him, and takes out something small and shiny. It’s a ring, a beautiful one with an amber embedded in its centre, “become my consort.” He asks, as he kneels down and presents the ring to you, “my equal in union.”

You stare at him, wide eye’d. He, a now powerful lord of frenzied flame wanting for you to be his consort? It’s obscene and it feels like a dream, perhaps you died and this is a hallucination. But feeling his hand gently take yours, confirms it is not.

You can only watch in a transfixed state as he slowly slides the ring onto your finger, it fits perfectly. When the ring settles, you feel your face heat up and heartbeat increase. He stands up and takes you into his embrace. His head, even if made of flames doesn’t hurt you, you can even feel where his nose and lips are somewhere in the obscuring flame.

His lips kiss against your neck before whispering into your ear, sending a wave of goosebumps down your back. “Would you allow me to consummate our union?” He asks while his hands eagerly await your answer.

It takes a few moments for your flustered mind to finally say a response, “yes, please.” Your answer is short but it’s all he needs as his hands slide down your back, feeling every curve and noting where you reacted most.

He continues to kiss your neck, mumbling a loving praise with every kiss. You feel his arms wrap around you to pull you in even closer, which allows you to listen to his lovely heartbeat.

You let out a gasp of surprise as he lifts you, his hands firmly grasping your thighs before he gently lays you onto a blanket you’ve set out just mere hours ago. His hands move to hike up your robes, revealing your undergarments.

His hands hook around them and slide them down, gouging your reaction for any reluctance and when he sees none, he takes them off entirely and discards them haphazardly.

He looks at your bare pussy, quickly wettening with arousal and you notice how he stares, which causes you to blush and turn away, not used to affections like this one. His hands trail along the inner most of your thighs, massaging you to calm you.

“My dear consort,” he mumbles, practically transfixed by your beauty and his swelling love to you. He gently prys open your legs a bit more to access you better and easier, “do not hide your elegance from me.”

You're still rather shy but his words give you a small boost as you slip off the rest of your robes, leaving you completely bare to him. Your nipples react to the air and pebble as he begins to fondle them gently, watching as your blushing face shows signs of pleasure.

You can feel yourself beginning to ache with arousal and wetness. Your very core needs to be serviced, it’s practically unbearable as your sheer wetness causes you to drip a few droplets. Your body and mind eagerly await his next move.

His hands remain fondling your breasts for a few more moments before moving them down to undress his lower regions. His grieves are thrown off without a care, and his bulge visible within his trousers.

He frees his cock from their confine, holding it in his hand as its tip slides up and down your pussy, lubricating itself. He’s rather large, with visible veins throughout and to your surprise, his skin is rather unmarred by flame, only tiny twists of orange are near his base.

The feeling of your wonderous heat and slick against his needy cock nearly makes him go into a frenzy, he needed relief but he did not wish to hurt you if he lost himself. His hands come to interlock with yours as he bends over you, his face going back to snuggle into your neck.

His words of praise and comfort soothe your nervous, yet excited mind. The feeling of his lips and then his teeth, gently grazing along your neck makes you shiver before he firmly bites down on a spot he knows your most responsive.

The bite doesn’t hurt you but instead sends your body into an even more aching heat and you whimper, not from any pain but from the sheer neediness you're beginning to feel. He has mercy on you as you can feel his cock line up and push slightly in, testing its limits.

Your hands reach to grapple onto his back, as you moan into his shoulder at the feeling of him slowly entering you. The stretch is pleasurable pain to you, which you never knew you’d like. There’s a small pop sound as he breaches your virginity, causing a small trickle of blood.

As a maiden, you had to practise chastity and only engage in relations with your wedded one, which was what you were taught. You feel no guilt for this, you feel no guilt for violating what your church had tried to drill into you. You weren’t their maiden anymore, you aren’t sure what you are but you know you are free.

Never did you expect for something so frowned upon by your elders to feel so good, to make you feel so connected to your newly-wed husband. Nothing existed outside this little bubble you and him are in, and that makes you feel secure and safe. In the destroyer of this world's embrace, you felt truly safe.

He waits a few moments before he attempts to fit more of himself inside, which your body eagerly lets him with how slick you are and how relaxed your muscles become. He has an easy entrance as he fits the entirety of his length inside you, causing you to feel rather stuffed as a little bulge appears in your lower stomach.

“Please, I need more.” You whimper out, the feeling of his warmth inside of you is not enough to satisfy your wanting body. His mouth, still bitten onto your neck, let’s go to kiss and suck on the spot he bit while he moves his hips, driving his cock in and out at a slow pace.

He moves his head up, admiring his work on your neck before looking at your face, beginning to bead with sweat. He loves the little noises you make as he slowly moves in and out and how your face slightly contorts. One of his hands moves to slide under your head and lift it up by a bit.

You gaze up into where you presumed his eyes would be in the raging flames of his head. You don’t have much time to guess before his head moves to yours, locking his lips onto yours. His lips are pleasantly warm and soft against yours. It’s hard to see much due to the tendrils of flame flickering in your vision but it doesn’t matter, you only need to feel.

His tongue pushes into your mouth and you graciously let him in. His hips get faster, the tip of his cock just barely hitting your spot. You moan into his mouth as more sweat runs down your forehead. You can feel yourself getting light headed from the lack of air and you turn your head to the side to take on gulps of air.

While you breathe in, he moves his mouth to nipple your neck again and his other free hand moves down to play with your clit. The pleasure of his finger and cock servicing your most sensitive and wanting region makes you arch your back into his touch.

He can feel himself needing more as he thrusts faster, causing a wet slapping noise every time he does. You feel so perfect wrapped around him, his little maiden, his little consort. You clench onto him so perfectly whenever he hits exactly where you need him and every moan or mewl that escapes your lips further motivates him.

His hand rubbing your clit, slowly ghosts over it, causing you to shiver. The pleasure is becoming too much for you, you’ve never had anything like this and you can hardly handle just mere minutes of it. An unknown feeling blooms in your lower stomach as he thrusts, it feels as if something will spill.

“Ah! Wh-what’s happening, I feel, so..so.” You have no words to say what you're feeling as it increases tenfold when he thrusts harder and slams against your aching, sensitive flesh.

He knows what you’re feeling and he wants to coax it out, he wants you to know true pleasure. “Let yourself go,” he starts to instruct you, “let that feeling build, my little consort.” His hand supporting the back of your head, moves to caress your cheek as your eyes water from the overstimulating feelings.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he says and you do so, allowing him to easily reach the furthest he can get inside of you. You let out a loud moan and your stomach feels as if it’s twisting into a tight knot while he ravages your body.

“You're doing so good.” He praises, knowing just how close you are as more water gathers in your eyes and your muscles subconsciously clench onto his cock. He himself can feel his climax approaching as he can feel himself trying to chase that feeling.

Your hands dig into his back as that knot in your stomach finally unties itself and you scream out in pleasure and you can feel yourself practically unravelling in his hold. Your walls clench so deliciously around him and he groans, feeling himself let go as he spills his cum deep inside of you.

The new feeling of his warmth shooting into you is a welcome one. Sweat glistens on you and him as you both breathe heavily, slowly coming down from the explosive high. He slides out of you slowly, now relieved yet exhausted.

He falls to his side, planting himself next to you before he grabs you and lifts you, placing you to lay on his chest with your ear against his heart. He rubs your back lovingly as he mutters and whispers just how well you did.

Your exhaustion catches up to you quickly as you get comfortable, loving the sound of his heartbeat. Your eyes become so heavy it’s hard to keep them open and his gentle massage makes it even harder. Fighting against sleep was useless as it claims just a minute afterwards.

He holds you as he begins to fall asleep as well. He doesn’t care that the world is quite literally burning down into nothing but ashes around him and you. It will be the perfect land for him to rule over with his new consort, a safe land.

The fire of the frenzied flame eats the world as he sleeps, but never gets close to the sleeping pair. The new world will be born and two new rulers will rise from its ashes.

Chapter Text

Contents: slight angst, riding and general sex.

The freezing cold nips at your skin, wriggling through your armour and scraps of fabric clinging to your body. It’s nearly unbearable in this place, wherever you’ve been transported too. Unwillingly might you add, you wouldn’t have come here just yet if you knew how cold it was.

It’s terrible here, you’ve been attacked by strange ‘people’ and hounded by packs of wolves that just wouldn’t give up. You were even attacked by what you thought were trees until they picked you up or threw balls of flame at you. The flames singeing your hide was almost welcome due to the cold but it still hurt.

Walking forward after so gracefully falling from a collapsing cliff and onto icy ground, you come across an old rickety bridge that sways and creaks with the slightest wind.

You let out a hefty sigh as you mentally prepare to cross this terribly aged bridge and hope it doesn’t break on you or you fall through a board. Taking a step, it lightly screeches from your weight and you wince but you see nothing has broken so you take another step, then another, before walking normally.

Every step you take makes the bridge sway and groan but you keep moving forward, keeping your eyes trained on the large church ahead instead of looking down or at the bridge and freaking yourself out.

You're halfway across the bridge as your nerves fail you and your feet wobble, making you instinctively look down to correct your footing. Only to see between the boards and a fall, which would surely lead to your death.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you lose your composure and let out a choked shriek as you run across the remainder of the bridge, squeezing your eyes shut the entire way.

The feeling of solid ground covered in snow makes your eyes shoot open and you realise you're on solid ground. You can feel relief shooting through your body as you hold your hand over your racing heart, trying to calm down.

Soon, your heart finally slows down and you make your way forward to where you think you should go. The church, just a bit away. You don’t know if this is where you really need to go, but you would prefer to warm up somewhere inside as you shiver.

The snow crunches under your footing as the front, closed doors of the church come into view and strangely, an armoured man with his arms folded across his chest, standing on one of the stairs.

His head moves a bit to look in your direction and you flinch, hand clenching to possibly grab your weapon but when he doesn’t do anything you relax but keep your guard up as you approach him. It’s hard to trust anyone in this world.

“Well,” he begins, “No bell tolls, and yet, you’ve slipped into the painting?” Before you can answer he speaks again, “Ah no matter. If you’ve lost your way, the words of Lady Friede will guide you.” He gestures with his head, “Now, go on inside. Show respect and listen carefully.”

It feels like your mind blanks out as his voice registers in your head. Extremely deep, the most you’ve ever heard so far and it sends a rushing blush to your cheeks although it’s not noticeable due to how cold your face is. You don’t notice your staring at him until he speaks again.

“What’s keeping you?” His little cape blows in the wind and you wonder how he’s not freezing, “go inside. No need to stare at me buggy-eyed.” His statement makes you snap out of your dazed state and you clear your throat.

“Right…right.” Is all you could mutter as you move past him and push open the large doors into the church. They groan in protest as you get them open and you walk inside. Warm air blows onto you and relief runs through your chilled soul.

You walk in, looking around and finding a woman, draped in what looked to be warm cloth. Yet your mind remains on the deep-voiced man outside and his voice replays in your head over and over as you walk up to the woman.

His words click and you realise this is the ‘Lady Friede’ that he spoke of and you hestitanly speak to her, “Hello.” You don’t really know what to say but it seems that Friede already knows what she wants to say.

Her words don’t really worm their way into your mind, but all you hear is something along the lines of ‘bonfire’ and about you leaving. The thought of leaving without getting to know the mysterious man outside makes you snap into reality.

“Ah, well…” you nibble at your lip, wanting to ask to stay just for a bit but Friede rather intimidated you. “Perhaps I could visit?” You smile nervously and Friede doesn’t seem to like the idea.

Eventually you persuaded her and she reluctantly let you stay, but only to stay within the areas of the church. You thanked her before turning to the bonfire and using its ability to warp back to the warm Firelink Shrine. You want to get something from there.

——————

Trying to find what you wanted in Firelink was rather hard, just where did you leave it? You were sure you had woken up with it and had taken it with you. Did someone steal it? Why would someone want to steal a blanket? Specifically yours.

Your blanket was next to you when you awoke in your casket, you had always loved this specific blanket. It was thick and warm, with furs at its ends that are soft and downy. It would be perfect for the weather in that place, and perfect for you to talk to the man outside the church.

You let out a gasp as you feel the familiar touch of the blanket, hidden behind a throne. You pull it out and dust any dirt from it before wrapping it around your shoulders. It’s long enough to touch the ground and fully wrap around your body.

Satisfied, you walk back over to the bonfire and channel its ability to warp back to the freezing world of Ariandel.

You stumble a bit as the world comes into view and blink the discombobulated feeling out of your head. And you turn to walk out the church but make sure to give Friede a respectful bow before leaving.

The man is still there as you step out and he looks at you, silent and stoic. You're a little nervous but wave before speaking, “Hello.” You already regret your single word but try to keep up the flow of courage, “I know we’ve uh, already met but I never got your name. I’ll go first, my name is (Name.)”

He takes a few seconds before responding, “Sir Vilhelm.” He extends his hand out to you which you take and shake in greeting. Your face lights up as you take his hand into yours before letting it go, “I presume you’ve met with Lady Friede.” He lets out a hefty sigh, “I’ve heard your conversation with her, she’s letting you stay.”

You nod, “well I just really wanted to stay because,” you pause for a few moments, you wanted to stay because he was interesting but you aren’t sure if you should say that to him right now. “I was simply curious about this place, and you.” You decide to keep it simple, make it seem like he’s not the main focus of your interest, “you know, just to get to know a new face. Or a helmet I suppose.”

You adjust the blanket wrapped around you. The blanket works exceptionally well, not letting any cold nip at you, except the tips of your ears but that’s fine. Vilhelm doesn’t respond but just stands there, like a stoic guard.

“Perhaps we could get to know each other better.” You propose the idea to him, which he doesn’t seem very interested in as he remains silent. You take that as a silent agreement as you begin to talk, telling him little things about yourself. Icebreakers really, which is funny to you due to how cold the weather here is.

He listens as you excitedly chat to him, you seem like the social butterfly. Unfortunately for you, he’s not the very social type as he only says one word or bare boned answers. His tone almost sounds like he doesn’t want to talk to you, which he doesn’t. You don’t belong here, and he doesn’t understand why Lady Friede is letting you stay.

That irks him, and you irk him as well but since Lady Friede is letting you stay then he supposes that he must treat you as he would a welcome guest. Much to his dismay.

He keeps his arms firmly crossed as he mostly blocks out what you're saying, hoping that you’ll tire of his silence and leave him be. But you don’t, you keep on talking and filling in gaps of silence where he should be the one speaking. You were mostly having a one sided conversation.

He notices the blanket wrapped snugly around your shoulders, by the gods, you couldn’t even handle a bit of cold. His opinion of you is not a good one as he investigates more of your outward character appearance. To him, you are a lost shivering lamb that is far too interested in befriending him.

“I do wish I could explore the land more, but I’ll abide by Lady Friedes wishes.” He catches the last bits of your chattering and he has enough sense to chime in.

“So you have some sense, and respect.” He notes how you preceded Friede with Lady, which you rightfully should. “Curiosity could be your cross. Stray from the withering flame, and the snow could swallow you whole.”

You smile, glad he said more than one word and take it as an invitation to keep talking to him. Yet again, he sighs and mostly listens to whatever you chat about.

After what felt like an eternity to Vilhelm, you finally decided you needed to leave and he watched as you walked into the church and vanished. He’s glad that he finally has his familiar peace.

—————

Sir Vilhelm never expected you to come back, time and time again. You’d come back, still with that one particular blanket wrapped securely around you. You were far too interested in him, and he was beginning to have his suspicions.

You always came at an exact hour, when the sun began to set. He presumed it was when you were finished adventuring or whatnot. It could be the reason why you usually looked frazzled or had some blood on you.

It had been a good few weeks, perhaps a month or two since you were allowed to linger around the church and every single day you had sat next to him on the stairs or stood by him. He had always noted how you had that specific blanket wrapped around you.

You became more comfortable with him and shared more and strangely he felt himself opening up his tough shell to you, slowly but surely. He had found himself speaking sentences to you instead of half-assed answers.

Most strange though, he unconsciously began to wait for you to come. It had been made apparent that where he always stood post, that it is incredibly lonely and rather boring. It was strange that he had to have a constant presence alongside him for him to realise how lonely he was without it.

“Well, it seems I should go now.” Your voice throws him back into reality, “I’ll be seeing you,” you pause before getting a small bit of courage, “I’ll miss your voice, it's quite attractive.” You wink and laugh, waving him a small laugh as you walk back into the church.

He doesn’t register what you say but his mind clicks and his heart strangely, skips a beat. He can hardly choke out a response before you leave. You don’t really catch it but it’s something along the lines of, “Thank you, my Lady.”

That began your little torment of him. You came back a day after and made a small wave and smile as you approached. After that small interaction, you always tried to flirt with him. Which to him, was torment, that he was starting to enjoy.

“Vilhelm,” you address him. He’s used to you just calling him Vilhelm instead of adding the Sir beforehand. You lean in, nearly touching the snout tip of his helmet. “I’ve never seen you without your helmet, are you as handsome as your voice?”

He’s a bit shocked but answers nonetheless, “yes.” He’s not the one to stroke his ego but he knows he’s rather attractive.

You raise your brow, “Then why don’t you show me?” You smile and lean back, waiting for him to possibly do so. But when he shakes his head, you pout, “I show you my face all the time. Be a gentleman and show me yours, why don’t you?”

He shakes his head again, “sorry, my lady.” He’s been calling you ‘my lady’ lately, just as a sign of respect. He is a gentleman after all, but he still has his reservations.

You adjust the blanket around you and sit on the stair next to him, clearing the light snow before doing so. You look up at him, clearly not satisfied with his answer but you decide not to possibly irl him.

“I suppose I can work with just a voice,” you love to lightly flirt with him, a few times you had managed to make him stutter. “That's the whole reason why I keep coming back. Just for you, honey.” You make a small teasing tone with the ‘honey’ comment.

Underneath his helmet, Vilhelm can feel his face heating up in an unfamiliar feeling. His body reacted to your little nickname with a blush and shiver but his mind was confused and muddled.

“Are you cold?” You notice the tiny shiver he made and an idea pops into your head. Your blanket is big enough to share, so why not share it? You know how uncomfortable it is to be cold, especially here.

“No, the cold isn’t bothering me.” he quickly says, trying to cover up his shiver. He didn’t want to admit why he shivered as his mind finally cleared and now, he hardly knows how to feel about you. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself but he quite likes your compliments. He’s enjoying what he thought was once torment.

You stand up and obviously don’t take his answer seriously. You adjust your blanket and slip it off of your shoulders before throwing it around Vilhelm, to his surprise. It’s rather comfortable and snug, warming him up nearly immediately. He never realised how much parts of him were numb to the cold until just now.

You make sure the blanket is wrapped securely around him before backing off, “there! You won’t be cold anymore.” You smile at him. He feels the blanket and adjusts it lightly, and he surprisingly never thinks of taking it off.

A breeze pulls through and you shiver, “I almost forgot how cold it was.” You state and he nearly takes the blanket from his shoulders to give back to you, but you speak before he does so. “I need to get going, there’s something important I have to do.”

He watches as you leave, back into the church and vanishing into thin air. He subconsciously holds onto the blanket to shield himself from the cold night and it never occurs to him that you essentially gave the blanket to him.

————

You shiver and your teeth chatter as you travel through the snowy lands of the painting. You hadn’t gone back to Firelink, you went to another bonfire in the painting and you had already began to traverse deeper into the painting, where Friede specifically told you not to go.

Lately, something has been nagging you to go further. You aren’t sure what it is but it’s become ever so persistent. Something felt as if it was tugging at your emberered core, like a flame which ash instinctively chases.

Sliding down the icy slope, you from across a destroyed and old town. Teaming with strange creatures that resembled featherless, upright standing birds with something dragging beneath them.

You walk through the village, noting how the birds aren’t aggressive to you in the slightest but only seem to be heading to one spot. A gate, which looked securely locked and guarded by a new bird creature, wielding sharp claws and a larger stature.

Dealing with the creature, you find a new path. One that was hidden behind old houses that leads you up and over the roofs of houses and eventually dropped into what appeared to be a place of worship.

“Shit!” You sneer through your teeth at the two large, aggressive bird entities attempt to attack you. Their never ending attacks shredded through your energy and left you vulnerable but you had managed to defeat them and opened the gate.

Turning around, you see a large building and an open doorway. It seems this is the only place you could go. You begin to walk up to the building, noting the many books inside as you take a few steps in.

The familiar sound of summoning pricks your ears and a light in the distance catches your eyes. The form of a familiar set of armour rising from the ground kicks your mind into recognition, it’s Sir Vilhelm.

“Ah, Vilhelm!” You wave excitedly, wondering what he’s doing here. “I’m glad to see you, I was missing you already.” You watch as he begins to walk toward you, stoically silent and his hand glowing a strange red mist.

“Were you missing me?” You tease him, “is that why you came all the way here?” You notice the blanket, folded neatly over his shoulder and you were about to say something but a feeling of danger pricks at you.

For some reason, a prick of sweat forms on your forehead. Not from heat but from nervousness as Vilhelm approaches, he seems almost malicious in intentions yet hesitant. “Vilhelm, are you alright, dear?” You ask, hoping to disengage any possible aggression.

Vilhelm continues in his approach. His mind feels like a wasp's nest, buzzing with thoughts and fears. Did he really want to do this to you? He would if he was still like he was merely weeks ago but now, he’s conflicted. Does he really want to bring an end to your life? Even if he knows you’ll just come back?

His hand flexes and clenches as he gets closer and his mind still screams with uncertainty. He knows what he’s feeling. He has gained feelings for you, but he buried them far down and tried to strangle them but only gave more power to them.

He tries to block out his mind and remind himself of his duty that he swore to. He was going to kill you and teach you a lesson of disobeying Friedes orders and coming into the painting.

You gasp as he suddenly brings his hand back like he’ll punch you but he suddenly grabs you, pulling you into his embrace. And the hand that holds the red gaze comes down, hovering over your chest.

At first, you didn’t feel anything but suddenly you can feel pain eat at your very soul and your muscles weaken. You scream out in pain as Vilhelm increases his hold on you, ensuring you don’t escape his attack.

The sound of your scream of pain makes his mind snap back into reality as he tried to disassociate to block this encounter out, but he just couldn’t. Guilt immediately tugs at his very being as he slowly lets you onto the ground and has to let the Dark Hand run its effects, as he doesn’t know how to stop it once it starts.

He watches as you squirm in agony and cry out in pain in his hold. Tears prick at your eyes, not from pain but from the feeling of utter betrayal. You know he did not like you at first, but you thought you had really made him a friend.

He lays you onto the ground as his attack finally ends and he immediately pulls you into a hug instead, caressing your head with his hands.

You instinctively push him off with a harsh kick to his stomach, sending him flying off of you and knocking onto the ground as you scramble to get up and find a place to hide. You run into the building and find a place between stacks of books and worming your way in.

Vilhelm gets up and coughs, your kick having knocked the air out of him with strength he didn’t expect. He looks around and finds you gone, ‘no, what have I done?’ His mind reels as more guilt nips at him. He looks down and finds a fresh set of prints of snow leading to stacks of books.

He slowly follows your trail and peeks into the stack, seeing you trembling and hiding. “(Name),” his rough voice spooks you as you turn to face him with reddened and betrayed eyes.

“Go away!” You yell out, your voice cracking with sadness as you try to conjure up more anger to counteract your hurt emotions. “Why did you do that?! I thought you were my friend!”

Vilhelm flinches as you yell at him, not expecting to be yelled at by someone like you. “Come out,” he realises how harsh he sounds, “please.” He’s not the best at comforting or being hospitable but he tries his best.

Your response was silence as you try to nudge yourself further into the stacks of books to escape his helmeted gaze. You can hear him huff before light invades your hiding spot and you look up, to find him having knocked over a stack to get to you.

As you try to get up and run off, he launches himself at you and holds you in his embrace to make you stay. “Let go!” You screech and try to kick him again but he positions his legs atop of yours to stop them from moving.

He doesn’t know what to do but an idea forms in his head and he reaches for the blanket folded atop of his shoulder. He throws it around you and you swear you can hear him mutter a small apology which makes you stop in shock.

Your anger melts into sadness as you can’t hold it in and tears, once held back, track down your face. He keeps you in his embrace as he slowly manoeuvres himself to sit with his back against a wall and to lay you on top of him.

His hands rub your back as he can’t figure out the words to comfort you, but he can try with his actions. Perhaps something that could cheer you up was to do what you asked of him, just mere hours ago.

He reaches up and that catches your attention as you look up, looking at him with blurry eyes. His hands reach to hook under his helmet as he lifts it and finally reveals his face to you.

His face is as handsome, perhaps even more handsome than you envisioned him. He has a sharp jawline with strong cheekbones and black hair. His eyes are a dark, almost black, brown.

You admire his features for a bit, almost forgetting your mad but you look down and refuse to look at him again. He notices this instantly and sighs, “(Name), I regret what I did.” He begins and your eyes widen.

“Truly, I regret it.” He sighs again, “Please, accept my apologies.” He doesn't know what he’ll do if you hold a grudge against him for so long, he’s so stoic but even he has vulnerable moments.

You take a few moments to make up your mind. You do like him, of course but he did hurt you just mere minutes ago. His hand comes to tilt your chin to look at him, and he notes your eyes now drying from your tears as you calm down.

“Fine..fine..” you admit your little defeat as you accept his apology, “I forgive you.” Your forgiveness sends relief through his body as his heart finally calms from its relentless beating.

“Thank you,” he gets a small idea, “my dear.” His words make you jump slightly as you look at him in surprise. His thumb comes across your cheek to wipe away stray tears before he leans down and gently places a tentative kiss on your lips.

Your face heats up as he does so and it takes your mind a few seconds to register what he did. “Did you?…” you ask even though you know the answer already. He simply nods and he sees how you don’t seem opposed to the idea.

His lips meet yours again and you recuperate with eagerness. His hands cup your face and your hands move to wrap around his chest. The kiss lasts long but to you and him, it is far too short as you separate to take in air.

You take in as much air as you can before going back to kissing him as you begin to get hot and flustered and you can tell that he is too. His hands move to your pants and his fingers hook themselves underneath them but he stops, pulling away from the kiss to speak.

“Would you let me?” He waits for your answer and you nod. His hands pull down your pants and reveal your black undergarments and his hands trail up your legs, sending shivers through you.

He slowly pulls down your undergarments, waiting for any signs of rejection or hesitance. He sees none and pulls them completely off, laying them on the ground before he moves his hands to feel your ass and knead it gently.

You had never been touched like this in so long, even then, it never went this far but you love it. You put your hands up to tangle in his raven hair and tug lightly, making him surprisingly groan in delight.

You feel his hands slip between your legs and trace along your wet pussy, gathering your slick onto his fingers. He lifts his hand and takes a look, ensuring that you're ready enough for this and the evidence on his fingers tell him you are.

His erection begs for attention and relief against his armour as he manages to take off his lower armour and free his cock, twitching with want and oozing pre-cum from its light tip. He’s average sized with small veins visible through.

You can feel yourself getting more worked up as you lean into kiss him deeply, opening your mouth to allow his tongue to invade your mouth. His hands hold onto your thighs and move them to open your legs and his cock rubs against your pussy slowly.

Moving your head to take in more greedy breaths of air before you take your hands and slip off your top, presenting your breasts to him. Based on the twitch of his cock against you, he quite enjoys them.

The blanket atop of both you and him keeps your naked body from being bothered by the cold winds bleeding into the building. Your nipples harden as he fondles them with his hands, mumbling small praises as his mind begins to blank out in pursuit of pleasure.

There are no words needed as he uses one of his hands to hold onto his cock and position himself to slowly sink into you. The head of his cock pushing in first as you let out small mewls of pleasure, your body hypersensitive due to how aroused you are.

His hand rests on your ass and he groans when he feels his cock fully submerge into you. You feel so warm and snug as he moves his hips to adjust his position to allow for easier thrusting.

Your hands grasp onto his armoured chest, trying to retain your composure as he very slowly moves in and out, ensuring to be gentle with you unless you say otherwise. He feels so good inside of you as he thrusts so tenderly, the tip of his cock brushing against your aching g-spot.

You're so sensitive to all his movements, the slightest making you shiver with delight. Goosebumps riddle your exposed skin as his other hand massages and kneads at spots.

He keeps his slow pace up, watching as your pleasure begins to mount up with small beads of sweat beginning to coat your skin. Your sweat wasn’t from exhaustion, he would be far too slow for that but from the sheer heat and lust you feel.

Taking it upon yourself, you place your hands on his chest to balance yourself and move your hips up and down in sync with his thrusts. His groan of pleasure and whispered, breathy ‘fuck’ tell you it’s exactly what you should be doing.

“Do you like that?” You ask, your voice with the slightest rasp. The heat in your very being burning like a forest fire needing to be quenched and the smell of sex becomes apparent to you.

Vilhelm lets out a barely contained groan before speaking, “keep doing it.” His command is abided by quite swiftly as you take the effort and move up and down a bit faster, riding him.

His cock hits the right places as you ride him, moving deliberately to let him sink in deeper and brush against your g-spot. Breathy moans escape from your mouth before being engulfed by Vilhelms lips again, kissing you passionately.

You ride him faster, lost in your own pleasure to notice he hasn’t thrusted in a while but simply enjoying how you ride him so well. Sweat glistens on his and your skin as slight exhaustion catches up to you.

Vilhelm notices your slight fatigue and grasps onto your thighs with a firm grip, helping you to continue riding. He can feel how his cock twitches inside of your warmth, it’s enough to make him mad with pleasure.

His muscles in his legs begin to tighten and he can feel how sensitive he’s getting as he groans again, holding onto your thighs harsher. He looks at your face, noting how it twists in pleasure and how small twitches of your walls indicate you're close to your peak.

He moves one of his hands to service your clit, wanting you to climax first so he could feel just how lovely your walls would be clenched around him and the sounds you’d make.

You can’t contain yourself anymore as you move up and down in quick succession before settling onto him, his cock as far as it could go and your orgasm racks your body, clenching your walls on his cock. Your mind swims in lust and pleasure as you cry out moans and your face heated up in a blush, sweat dripping down your forehead.

He thrusts up to give himself one last push as he feels your warmth clench around him and he groans loudly with the slightest rasp. He reaches his climax and cums deep inside of you as he breathes heavily, having exhausted himself from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Your legs twitch and give out on you as you slowly come off of him, his now flaccid cock easily slipping out as cum and fluids drip from your pussy. Your mind is still half-mush as you can only afford with your limited energy, to lay on top of Vilhelm.

A cold breeze seeps through the building, somehow bleeding through the blanket and you shiver, which is noticed by Vilhelm. He immediately uses the blanket to pull you in closer and wrap it around you and himself in a tight embrace. There’s no words needed, you feel as if you understand him without them.

His hands idly play with your hair, twirling it in his fingers as he watches you slowly succumb to the clutches of an exhausted, well deserved rest. He himself is tired but he wishes to stay awake, if that means to gaze upon you for as long as he can.

He never knew he’d need another person in his life, even one as strange as you. He knows what he’ll do when you awaken, he’ll take you back to the church and ask Lady Friede to let you stay. Perhaps one day, he’ll find himself as a husband and you as a wife.

For now, he holds you in his embrace. Waiting for you to wake up on your own accord, he’ll wait for however long he needs too.

Chapter Text

Contents: Fluff, smut. Gentle sex. Pregnancy ending.

Your blade clashes with the blade of the Soul Of Cinder. The being towers over you, with you only reaching up to its waist but you don’t care anymore, you don’t feel fear. You don’t feel anything but a lust for battle and to win.

The Soul of Cinder backs away with a powerful jump and with a flash of flames, changes its blade to a sorcerer's staff and begins to rapidly fire spells at you.

Dodging out of the way of most of them, you swing at it again and you watch as it kneels down for a few moments before standing up again and stabbing its sword into the ground.

The explosion sends you flying back and you hardly have any time to dodge as the Soul of Cinder flies at you, attempting to hit you with a flaming sword. This was Gwyn now, you’ve heard of him of course.

You know what this thing really is, just living ashes of a thousand fooled ‘heros’ and the hollowed husk of an old god, one so celebrated but one who only brought pain to humanity. In your eyes, he was a demon and how he was so afraid of the dark made you laugh.

In the end, he would face the dark and lose to it. Your blade sinks into the exposed stomach of the Soul of Cinder and it lets out its final shriek. A thousand voices screaming at once in one body sounds so horrible, but knowing there’s a scream of a god within makes it all better.

The body disintegrates into mere dust, blowing away in the windy terrain of the Kiln Of The First Flame. A light and blow of flying sparks in the corner of your eyes makes you turn your head, towards a bonfire sitting so enticingly in the middle of the Kiln.

Walking over to it, you stand over it and watch the dying flames flicker and lick at the closest source of heat or fuel but not finding any. How pathetic this flame was, how oppressive it truly was to your kind who for some reason, kept kindling it.

Humanity, the darkness that Gwyn was so afraid of who had oppressed them with his flame and made all of them so blind. Blind and sheeps, to follow his orders and bend to his will to make sure the Dark Lord wouldn’t be born among them and overthrow him.

You wondered, why? Why did these thousand hero’s come here just to die and fuel the age of gods and further extend the oppression of their entire species. No matter, they were all idiots, not heros, but sheep following a master and not thinking hard enough. They didn’t think about what would happen after their death, but you did.

You look at your hands as you hold it out, rings adorn your fingers. An untrue dark ring from Yuria, the one who truly opened your eyes. And another ring, glistening with a dark emerald in its middle and the band made of onyx. This ring had no special effect but it was symbolic, it was your wedding ring.

Yuria had been the one that started all of this, she had come to you after you hollowed and opened the path to the Lord of Hollows. She gave you directions on what to do and eventually directed you to the darkmoon tomb, citing that your ‘spouse’ awaits you there.

Why wouldn’t a lord have a spouse? Is essentially what she told you when you asked about it, and she revealed it was Anri. The kind elite astora knight with the travelling companion Horace, who you had become quick friends with. Unfortunately Horace had to meet his end at your blade and you told Anri about it, who understood but was still melancholy.

You had travelled to the darkmoon tomb where a pilgrim awaited you and gave you the avowal sword. The pilgrim told you exactly what to do, which you thought was odd but if that is the tradition and the way for you to get more dark sigils, then so be it.

When you loomed over Anri, his helmet off and his face covered with a pristine white cloth. You angled the sword to where his face would be and drove the sword in, causing tendrils of black to seep out and the feeling of dark sigils coursing through you. After you stood back up, you noticed that on Anri’s ring finger was a wedding band much more plain but made of onyx and other black materials.

The pilgrim had stopped you when you were making your way out of the tomb and gave you the wedding ring you are wearing now, saying they had forgotten to give it to you. So that was your wedding? No cake, no friends and family to congratulate you or any celebrations?

Getting married in this time and age was considered impossible, so you weren’t exactly bothered by this as getting married was an accomplishment in itself. Ceremonies by now had to be done quickly, just in case there could be an attack. Though, you would have appreciated some cake for you and your new husband.

The flames flickering catch your attention as you remember what you're doing. Usurping the flame. Holding out your hand, you channel the bonfires energy and the flames begin to climb onto your hand.

Suddenly, a strange sensation hits your heart like a blade and you clutch your chest. This strange feeling courses through your very flesh and veins, it feels like your body is trying to correct something. Gasping, you claw at your neck as it feels as if your airways are closing.

Sweat falls down your forehead as you cough out spit and blood and collapse to your knees. Your muscles feel as If their ripping apart and repairing themselves all at once and your running blood is boiling beneath your skin. But most of all, your soul squirms as the dark sigils themselves practically blend themselves into it.

The last thing you can see and feel is the ripping of flesh, tearing of skin and the sight of the ‘bleeding’ sun beginning to set. You fall over, collapse onto the ashy ground and pass out.

—————

You wake up, just what felt like minutes after. The pain, the tearing and blood is nowhere to be seen as you take a deep breath in. Working your limbs to stand up was a hassle as you wobbly get up, taking a moment to straighten your back.

What was this feeling? The one you felt before and feel even now, the one that broke your bones and shredded your flesh. Ah, you know what it is now. This feeling of power, the one that tore at you is made clear now. It is not hurting you, it is simply shaping you to take this sheer amount of power.

Standing fully up, you notice the new ‘sun’ high above the sky, rising with you. The clink of armour that isn’t yours makes you look over, noticing two familiar dressed women. You can tell one of them is Yuria and another that you don’t know, but they kneel down with their hands over their chest and bow lightly.

You know your duty now, you are a Lord. A Lord of Hollows, their queen, their saviour. And these are the first of your many loyal subjects that will come under your rule. You can feel your mind already swimming with ideas of how to make your rule the most prosperous and how you will change everything.

Taking a step, you wobble just for a moment before taking another and then another before it turns into a walk as hollows gather. They kneel and bow down, submitting to their new, righteous ruler. “Ah.. gracious lord.” You hear an old voice say, which you presume was a pilgrim.

Walking through the pathway the hollows made for you, you notice a set of familiar armour amongst the bowing crowd. It was Anri, alive and well. You note him in your mind to talk to your newly appointed husband when your plans are set.

“Make Londor whole…” the old, creaky voice says again. You know exactly what you’ll do in your rule, make sure it is absolute and ensure that everyone, everything, every god knows of the new Lord and how things will change forever.

———————

Standing outside, the wind blows through your pristine hair. A long regal coat hangs off of your shoulders, lightly dragging along the ground. Your crown, made of obsidian and embedded with jewels, rubies and diamonds rests on your head. The crown is heavy, but nonetheless you bear its brunt of duty.

Looking over the balcony you walked upon, which was attached to your large room. You rest your hands on its polished black marble railing, overlooking your very kingdom. It’s perfect in every way. Your rule is uncontested and everyone listens to what you command.

The kingdom has expanded dramatically since your first months of ruling. Many new hollows had come to the kingdom to settle in, many even proving themselves to be nobility worthy and thus, worthy of being in your presence. That’s how Yuria, your now royal advisor put it. Unless they had the title worthy enough, then they shouldn’t meet with you and instead go to her as you had important stuff to do.

You didn’t mind that as you had very important stuff to actually do, which caused you great stress but it was all worth it. Brushing away a few strands of stress-induced grey hair, you take a deep breath of the crisp air in. Yes, this is truly what you deserved, what your people deserved.

The castle you stand in had once been Lothric Castle but since you rose to power, you had it renovated and changed. It’s much larger now, able to accommodate many noble families which rank high enough to live in the castle walls. All the previous stained glass, statues and paintings of the previous rulers had been destroyed and replaced with new ones.

“My lord.”

A male voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn around. It’s Anri, your appointed husband and King of this new time. He still dawns his elite knight armoury, though you’ve had some modifications done to it to represent his status and kingdom.

You breathe a heavy sigh, “Anri, I’ve told you. You needn’t call me such titles. We are equals.” You remind him as you walk up to him and adjust the crooked crown upon his head, “there, all better.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot again.” He mumbles his apology, his face burning underneath his helmet. He clears his throat, remembering why he’s here. “Something needs your attention, I came to fetch you.”

His answer is vague and another part of your mind remembers why he’d ever need to ‘fetch’ you. Even if he was King, many didn’t really respect him as much as they respected you, which irked you. But alas, you didn’t want to growl at your subjects this early so you only set gentle reminders.

“Well? Let’s get going.” You most likely know what needs your attention, just boring papers and audiences with nobles. You take his hand into yours and walk out of your shared room. Anri’s used to the hand holding by now, he rather enjoys it. Why wouldn’t he? He loves his wife. Although he’s a bit Intimidated.

Walking down the hallway with Anri in hand, you note some servants passing by and bowing in yours and his presence. You know where you need to be, in your throne room and study. First, you’ll meet with nobility, hear their requests and concerns, then you’ll go over letters and propositions in your study. Not a very exciting day but if that’s how you’ll maintain order then so be it.

The doors to the throne room are huge and intricately designed, meant to awe and intimidate all visitors. You push them open with little strength, seeing your throne awaiting you. Of course, Anri’s throne is there as well, right next to yours.

“Anri, this is the boring stuff.” You turn to face him, “you don’t need to stay. You’ve already had a long day, why don’t you go rest in our room?” You ask him, knowing he’s been gone practically all night and day. He has duties, ones that revolve around training new knights and overseeing plannings of invasions or defensive tactics.

His shoulders slump, he really wanted to spend time with his wife even if you had to do something boring. But he knows better than to deny your request, after all he did have a long day. He hasn’t slept in nearly sixteen hours so he’s dead tired.

You see how his shoulders slump and pat his shoulder, “I know, I don’t like it either. I’ll be back in our room as quickly as I can.” You lift his helmet to see his face and give him a peck on the lips before putting his helmet back down.

His face burns with a blush, always loving the quick little pecks. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He embraces you in a tight hug, nuzzling the muzzle of his helmet against your neck before letting go. Turning around, he leaves the throne room.

Sighing, you walk up to your throne and sit down. Yuria, who had walked in shortly after Anri left, stood beside you. She is far more than just a royal advisor but also a secretive guard, who is exceptionally skilled with a blade.

You mentally prepare to be bored out of your mind as the first noble walks into your throne room.

—————

Rubbing your tired eyes and fixing tiny flyaways of your grey hairs, you stand up and crack your back. It had been worse today, the meetings lasting hours on end to the point the stars have already risen.

Walking down the short amount of stairs, you make a turn for a closed door just behind the throne and into your private study room. You decided to have your study so close to your throne room for any emergencies and it proved effective.

As you walk in, Yuria follows behind you as stealthily silent as ever. She stops right next to your desk as you sit down on the chair and begin to go through many papers. Words jump and jarble as you try to read them, you're far too tired to be doing this but it has to be done.

Taking the quill, you dip it in ink and begin to write out responses. Your writing was more sloppy than it was regal and careful, but you really didn’t care all you wanted to do was sleep. Signing a few papers here and there and writing out responses is what you do for the next hour.

“My Lord.” Yuria begins, catching your attention. “There is a manner which I wish to discuss, if thee will entertain a discussion.” She says, noticing how plighted with sleep you are.

You let out a long, hard sigh and rest your head on your hand, propped up with your elbow. “Yes? What is it?” You hope it’s not something boring, hopefully something exciting.

“Thy lordship, forgive mine intrusiveness.” This perks your interest, “I’ve noticed that thy spouse Lord Anri and thee have not produced or attempted an heir.” Her voices snap you out of your groggy state.

She noticed your reaction but continues on, “I know it is not mine place to suggest such things.” She bows lightly, showing she still highly respects you. “The time is ripe to consider such ideas. A lord without an heir could one day imperil thy kingdom.” She pauses for a moment, “with none to claimeth the throne after thyn death. It would surely end thy legacy early.”

You never really thought of having an heir or two, especially with Anri. You never even thought of having sex with Anri, a martial obligation long forgotten. The ceremony was so fast and mostly done in a rush that you never thought of the traditions of a ‘wedding night’. Even after being married to him for nearly a year by now and sleeping snuggled up in the same bed, nothing was ever initiated.

“Well uh…” you cough and try to come up with an excuse, “we’ve both been very busy.” It’s a pathetic excuse and you know Yuria obviously doesn’t believe it. Yuria wants what’s best for her righteous Lords and will do anything to achieve it.

She suddenly pushes the papers out of the way and into a neat pile to keep your attention on her, and you know when she’s serious she can be quite stern. “My lord, I shall taketh thy duties for the night. So thou mayst spend ‘time’ with thy spouse, Lord Anri.”

You know that it’s no use arguing and you don’t feel like arguing either, your mind is set on something else now. “Right, right. Thank you, Yuria.” You say as you stand up out of your chair. As you approach your door, you look back at Yuria to see she’s already hard at work and there’s nothing to worry about.

Walking down the long, silent hallways of the large castle. Illuminated only by candle light and the rays of moonlight through windows and open arches. The stairs leading up to your shared bedroom are many, as the room is the highest point in the castle.

Opening the doors to your room, you're met with mostly darkness with only a few candles lit up giving the room a cosy feel despite the mostly black furnishing. On a carefully polished and intricately carved wooden nightstand stands a lit candelabra and next to the stand, Anri lays in bed, reading a book and using the candelabra light to see the words.

“You’re back early, wonderful.” Anri says, happy to see you as he smiles,“Hard day today?” He asks as he notices just how stressed you look, you always looked stressed but today seemed particularly draining today.

You nod as you take off your heavy crown, laying it on a cushion right next to where Anri’s crown lays. The ever present headache disappears as you rub your temples, relieved. Removing more of your regal attire, you strip down into more comfortable clothing which is simply your underclothing.

Climbing onto your side of the bed, you cuddle up to Anri as he gently pulls you in with his arm wrapped around you. You look into his book, it seems interesting to him but not much to you as you settle your head on his chest and simply read along for a few minutes.

Your mind remembers how Yuria had taken the burden of your most boring duty. You need to make most of the night and of Yurias brave sacrifice. “Anri?” You turn your head to look up at him, “can we discuss something?”

“Of course, what is it?” He asks and closes the book to give you his full attention.

“Yuria talked to me today, in my study.” You begin, “she brought up a concern, it’s about an heir.” You see the little surprise on Anri’s face but he seems interested. “She says we should have one, to ensure the new kingdom doesn’t fall if we pass.”

Anri seems pleasantly surprised as he plays with your hair with one hand, something he likes to do. “Ah, I’ve been meaning to bring it up too.” He admits, “well, not just about an heir but.. well…I want to bond with you more” His face flushes a bit and you let out a small laugh.

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him, feeling your stress beginning to seep out of your very being just talking to him. To you, he’s very funny and calming to be around.

“I thought you would be too stressed to ‘bond’ and I didn’t wish to bother you.” He shyly admits, “and we hardly get any time alone together and it’s usually only sleeping.”

“Anri, dear.” You lightly dote on him, “you could have simply asked, I’d have accepted any day and time.” You lean up to kiss him and he eagerly recuperates. The kiss lasts for a few seconds before you break it to take a breath and say, “we shouldn’t delay what we both want.”

Anri feels himself becoming erect as you straddle him and rub his erection through his briefs. His breath becomes hot as his body erupts in shivers of pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of your bra and I clip it, letting it fall and your breasts completely exposed to his hungry gaze. Your nipples harden with contact to the air and your mounting arousal coursing through your being.

He can feel his cock twitch in excitement as he gazes on your bare chest, taking in as much as he can in the low, warm light. His hands move up and knead your breasts, causing you to let out a shuddering moan.

“Excited aren’t you?” You lightly tease him, feeling his cock rock hard against your ass. He lets out a groan as you grind yourself against him, bucking his hips up slightly.

“Ah..” He takes a breath in, “please, I need you.” Anri whines lightly, hardly able to contain himself. He manages to push down his briefs, releasing his cock. Its tip dribbles pre-cum and twitches with excitment.

You reach down and slide down your panties, giving him a small strip tease before fully taking them off and exposing yourself to him. You trace your fingers along your pussy and dip your fingers in and pull them out, showing them to Anri as they glisten with your juices. “I’m ready for you.”

He can hardly wait as he watches you align yourself with your cock and slowly sink down. With how wet you are, he easily slides in and he lets out a breathy groan. “Ohh..y..you feel so good.” He feels every bit of you, how warm and perfectly tight for him.

You trace your hands down his chest as you sink his entire length in, brushing against your g-spot and you shudder lightly. “As do you,” your breath is husky and heavy, “fuck… your cock fits so perfectly.” You can feel how his length and girth are the perfect size, fitting like a key.

He blushes again and wraps his hands around, gripping onto your asscheeks. You let out a small gasp of shock as he spreads them, “Anri! How obscene!” You jokingly hit him and laugh and he laughs in response.

“Sorry, sorry, I just want to feel every inch of you.” He keeps his hands on your ass and lifts you slightly, encouraging you to move up and down. You take the hint and start slow. Every time you went down, a lewd squelch from your combined juices sounds out.

He suddenly holds onto you and turns to the side, laying you on your side while keeping his cock inside of you and moving one of his hands to lift your leg. You’re in a lying position now as he slowly thrusts into you, his chest against your back as his hot breath tickles your neck.

His lips trail kisses up your neck. His one free hand groping your breast, massaging it. He keeps his slow pace, loving just how your warmth hugs his cock and the sounds of your breathy, gentle moans.

You feel your body almost become fuzzy, a strange feeling. You know what it is though, a pure love for him and you can feel just how much he loves you. Your heart beat increases as you feel the familiar, warm feeling of love and you move your head to connect your lips to Anri’s.

He moans into the kiss as he feels your walls clench onto him, squeezing him lightly and sending courses of pleasure into his body and sensitive cock. His hand holding onto your breasts moves down to rub his thumb around your clit, causing you to shiver.

You feel a little knot form in your stomach as he circles your clit, teasing out little sparks of pleasure as he thrusts into you. He’s slow but the pleasure begins to mount on top of itself, adding to your slowly approaching orgasm.

Breaking from the kiss, a string of saliva connects your lips and his. “You’re so gentle.” You say, “what a gentleman.” You softly laugh and he does too.

“Why wouldn’t I be gentle with my wife?” He asks, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’d never want to hurt you, I could never forgive myself.” He makes sure he’s being careful, always watching for any expressions of pain or discomfort.

You smile at him as he thrusts, tying the knot in your lower stomach further. His cock kisses against your aching g-spot, pushing you further into your depths of pleasure. You clench your walls, wanting him to feel as good as you are feeling.

He moans as his thrusts become sloppier and the tiniest bit faster. His lips meet yours again and you open your mouth to let his tongue in, dancing with yours. Saliva dribbles down your chin as you breathe heavily through your nose.

Small pricks of sweat form on your forehead and on Anri, the heat of each other’s body and actions causing them. Your bodies stick to each other, fitting together perfectly like a puzzle piece.

Your mind starts to melt as the knot ties even tighter and the mounting pleasure makes you so sensitive. His thumb circling your clit begins to slowly and gently play with it as he notices how jumpy you're getting.

He breaks the kiss to take in a greedy gulp of air before returning to the passionate kiss. His hips buck as his thrusts are sloppy and needy as he begins to approach his own orgasm. The lewd noises of skin slapping on skin and muffled moaning echo lowly though the room.

The knot finally bursts as your orgasm starts out as a trickle down your thighs before evolving into small squirts, coating his cock. You moan into the kiss and your body shakes with pleasure. Even if it looked like such a small one, it racked your frame.

He thrusts as deep as he can and cums inside you, coating your walls with his seed. Small drips of his cum seeps from you as he keeps his cock sheathed inside essentially using you as a cock sleeve. He reluctantly separated from the kiss, breathing heavily and covered in sweat.

Exhaustion hits you like a great sword as you rest your head on the fluffy pillows beneath both of your heads. Anri notices and chuckles, throwing his arm around you and spooning you. He places little kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“You had a long day, get some sleep.” He gently commands and you tiredly nod but not before you mutter.

“I love you so much.”

Anri’s heart flutters with that fuzzy feeling at your words and as he watches you drift off into sleep. He could never ask for a better person to spend the rest of his hollow days with and to father children with.

He yawns and nuzzles into your neck, feeling his own fatigue plaguing his form. He falls asleep shortly after you, his cock still buried deep inside your warmth.

—————-

Months later…

Sitting in your study, you sort through papers. There’s less papers as of late, you're unsure why but decide not to see why as it would just cause you unnecessary stress. And stress is the last thing you’d want, you wouldn’t want to hurt the baby and the future of the kingdom.

Your baby bump was just showing by now, being small but clearly noticeable. At first you didn’t want anyone but Anri and Yuria to know as you felt you would be viewed differently, perhaps weak and vulnerable.

The sound of the study door opening makes you look up, it’s Anri. “Hello, hun.” You greet him and get back to writing, a small candle illuminating your dark surroundings.

The letters you look over mostly consist of congratulations and offerings of items for the upcoming prince or princess. You weren’t really interested but you noticed some letters from noblewoman who you knew had children and decided to send letters of invitation to a private baby shower. Advice from other mothers would be appreciated.

Anri sighs, seeing just how late you’ve stayed up again. “(Name), you know how I feel about you working so hard.” He has a slightly worried tone, “think of your health and the baby.” He walks over to your side, looking at the small pile of papers waiting to be reviewed.

“Oh Anri, I’m fine.” You brush off his complaints, “I'm not helpless, I can still work.” You keep your eyes focused on the paper you review, the heavy crown on your head inducing a headache.

The weight of the crown is suddenly gone as Anri takes it off and places it on the desk. He crosses his arms across his chest, “come on, let’s get to bed.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a yelp as he easily scoops you up from your chair, holding you in a bridal position. He’s taken a liking to doing this when you don’t listen to his concerns of your health.

“Anri, I need to get work done!” You sternly say, but don’t struggle out of his hold as he walks out the study and ignores your complaints.

“Yuria can do it.” He simply says, wanting you not to worry so much about work. “She’s a responsible one, there will be no need to fuss.”

You let out a long, heavy sigh as he makes it to your shared room and goes inside. He puts you down and begins to undress you of your regal attire and hang it on some hangers. He leaves you in your bra and panties and then puts his hand on the small of your back to force your stubborn self to the bed.

You plop yourself down on the bed, sitting on the edge. Your face contorted into a small frown, still a bit mad.

Anri kneels down and takes off his helmet, placing it on the floor. He then takes off his gauntlets and places his warm hands on your stomach, feeling the baby bump.

“They're growing fast aren’t they?” He asks, knowing how to remove that stubborn frown from your face.

You simply nod, feeling a tiny bit of resolve crack.

He puts his ear against your stomach, he’s silent for a moment before commenting. “Have you thought of any names yet? I’ve thought of many already.” He puts his ear back against your stomach.

“Yeah, I have..” you mumble, remembering a little paper you kept on your desk with potential names listed on it.

He gasps and it shocks you, “oh I think I felt a kick!”

“Really?!” You didn’t feel it yourself but know sometimes he can and you can’t.

He smiles up at you as he notices your excited face. “I always love seeing you like that.”

You face burns with a little blush, realising he used his oldest trick to make your stubborn shell practically shatter. “Oh, whatever..” you try to stifle your smile and playfully shove him away as he laughs.

He stands back up and sits next to you, pulling you into an embrace. “Now, let’s get some sleep. We both have a long day tomorrow.”

“Can we have cake for breakfast?” You immediately ask, giving into your cravings.

Anri smiles, “hmm alright, just this once. You know you need to eat healthy.”

He settles into the bed as you cuddle up next to him, immediately falling asleep from the exhaustion of pregnancy and general work of being a queen. He falls asleep shortly after, although with only one pillow under his head. He surrendered his pillows to you just a short time ago after you complained and practically stole them. It’s a bit uncomfortable but he doesn’t mind, he only thinks of the future with you and the future Prince/princess.

Chapter Text

Contents: Breeding, overstimulation, hair pulling, very slight dub-con. Slight fucked till dumb. Majority of this is filthy smut.

In the Moghwyn palace, the cocoon of Miquella stands eerily still. The arm of Miquella dangles loosely, a small trail of blood dripping from it and pooling onto the floor. The growing Empyrean inside hasn’t moved or given any response in what feels like an eternity.

Mohg walks up to the arm, grasping it in his clawed hands. He lets out a frustrated sigh, just how long must he wait for the Empyrean to awaken? He was getting impatient and his dynasty couldn’t wait forever.

He knows the only solution to this is patience, he can’t rush the process of the cocoon. But he’d do many things to fasten it, perhaps place more faith in the Formless Mother? Solutions try to run through his head but all of them are obsolete.

He can feel anger starting to boil in his accursed blood as he lets go of the hand, letting it fall limp. Turning around he walks over to the sides of the open palace, overlooking his dynasty's grounds.

From where he stands, he can see his many sanguine nobles excitedly awaiting the coming of the dynasty to claim their high ranking titles. A few of his war surgeons wander around, conversing or doing menial things. To him, they are small specks.

The flaws plaguing his palace grounds make themselves horribly known to him. Of course the biggest flaw was Miquella not awakening but he can pinpoint more smaller flaws that could truly evolve into something big if he didn’t deal with them soon enough.

Looking over, he can notice the lack of non-ruined buildings for his nobles and nameless white masks to reside in. He can fix that of course, kidnap many builders and force them to build houses and possibly add to his palace.

Another flaw of little food ruminates in his mind. The grounds weren’t fertile enough to hold food, any seeds usually dying before reaching maturity. Usually his white masks and nobles had to venture out of the dynasty grounds to pillage for food. Yet again, he could kidnap farmers and some magic users to force the food to grow.

The second biggest flaw in the grounds makes more rage run through his veins. His sanguine nobles, they could fight but ultimately weren’t made entirely for fighting and most likely wouldn’t when the dynasty would be fully established. Even his white masks, his war surgeons, were not entirely for fighting but mostly for healing wounds.

He needs warriors, strong, and endlessly loyal warriors that would defend him and his dynasty. Yet he finds himself at a serious lack of warriors with such power, which frustrates him. If the palace ground were attacked this early, he doubts it would hold up for too long.

The only warriors he could think of kidnapping were Tarnished. Yet, he knows Tarnished could betray him for their own gain and he already had a terrible experience with a Tarnished, who had nearly killed him.

He has Tarnished in his kingdom, but very few and far between. Majority of them had been kidnapped or tricked into joining but they were loyal nonetheless so it’s all that mattered.

His mind clicks suddenly as a memory of a Tarnished woman settles into his mind. He had ‘rescued’ her a long time ago when he found her as a wandering, lost and scared woman of faith. He convinced her to stay after kidnapping her by promising a place to practise faith.

Of course, he had made her put her faith into the Formless Mother or else he would kill her but that wasn’t important. He placed her in a church, constructed in worship of the Formless Mother with other few members of the church.

She had taken up residence quite easily and was far more loyal than he expected. But there was another thing of the Tarnished woman he knew he could use, she had quite the motherly build. A large chest and thick thighs, perfect for childbearing.

He feels his mind click, she would be perfect to breed the first generation of his warriors. Of course he would be the father of these warriors, with his strength and genes they would surely be great and perhaps even Omen like himself.

Turning around, he heads down the palace steps. His eyes set to a distant church, the one constructed for the Formless Mother and the one he put the Tarnished woman in. He has his plans set and he will get his warriors, one way or another.

——————-

Holding up the pristine, white cloth, you balance the golden goblet filled with the purest blood that the church could obtain upon the cloth. You were more of an assistant to the head priest than anything, but you didn’t mind it, he was kind and was training you to take his place and become the head priestess upon his passing.

Making sure not a single drop of blood spills or else you’d have to completely redo the ritual and get a whole new goblet and pure blood. Which was a pain to get both but you’ve figured out a way to do it effortlessly.

“Your grace.” You address the head priest, the bishop in a way. “I have the blood ready.” You present the cloth out to him and he overlooks it. As he overlooks it, you feel an inkling of anxiety but when he nods, you let out a relieved sigh.

“Put it on the altar.” His aged voice commands you and you do so, laying it gently on the altar for the Formless Mother. The goblet of blood was an offering, an offering of blood made from pain and wounds of the church members, including you.

You found out how to get the purest blood by trial and error and now that you had, the Formless Mother had always accepted the offerings and in result, blessed the Mohgwyn grounds. This achievement had made you the apprentice of the bishop.

Today, you were to lead the ceremony and for some reason, many nobles and even a few ear surgeons always came in whenever you were leading. You wondered why but you could put some pieces together, which they were there to gawk at your appearance.

Clasping your hands together, you mumble a prayer before turning around and addressing the many sitting in the pews. “Pray for our Formless Mother. Feel her power in your blood.” You begin as you slowly walk down the aisle, ensuring everyone is praying.

So far, everyone is doing their part but you catch a few glances at your chest but you choose not to call anyone out. “Accept our offerings of the purest blood, bless this ground once again.” You turn back around to the altar and watch the goblet.

The blood stays still for a few moments before a small ripple runs through it and the blood suddenly bursts into red flames. The red flames eat away at the blood until only a stained, golden and slightly singed goblet is left. The Formless Mother accepts the offering once again.

You turn around to outstretch your arms, “she has blessed us once more!” Your voice echoes through the church, “this communion is now formally dismissed.” The communions are usually short but they’re beneficial.

You watch as the nobles and surgeons stand up and leave. Turning to the Bishop, you speak up, “how was that?” You’ve done this many times but always make sure to check in with the Bishop.

“It was satisfactory.” He claims, “you have chores to do, young priestess.” He ushers you to get going to the back of the church and you do so with a small huff.

Walking to the back, you find yourself washing up the dishes and setting up new materials for the next communion which is next week. You can feel your mind thinking back on your rescue by Mohg.

You were scared at first but when you were placed here and given your robes which hugged your form so snuggly. At first you hated collecting blood but by now it was second nature. Not only did you worship the Formless Mother but the church also worshipped Lord Mohg himself.

The door to the kitchen creaks open as the Bishop waddles in, a slightly bewildered expression on his old face. “You are wanted at the altar, Lord Mohg requests your presence.” He says before turning and leaving the kitchen.

Your heart jumps, Lord Mohg was here?! He usually was never here unless it was something very important, so if he needed you for something then it must be imperative to be done immediately.

Rushing out, you scurry to the altar and see Lord Mohg with his back turned to you. He is massive, easily towering over you and his regal attire gives him an intimidating appearance which makes you quake a bit as you walk up to him.

“Lord Mohg?” You address him and he turns around, his horned face and fanged mouth making you a bit nervous but it was normal to be nervous in the presence of your Lord. “What warrants your gracious appearance?”

“I have a duty for you, a very important one.” His gravelly voice rings in your ears, “we will discuss it privately. Leave us.” He addresses the Bishop and he scurries away immediately, clearly afraid.

“An important duty? What is it, Lord Mohg? I’ll do my best to perform it.” You bow to him as you await his orders.

“I’ve chosen you to bear my warriors.” He explains your duty, “my dynasty needs warriors and you’ll do perfect for making them.” He points to your thighs and chest.

You jump a bit, feeling your heart in your throat as you put your hand over your heart. “Pardon?” You clear your throat, “L-Lord Mohg. I wish not to disobey duties and orders but… I’m not sure I’m suited for this.”

He doesn’t take no for an answer as he lets out a small growl, “your body will prove it easy for you.” He tries to convince you but it hardly works as you feel sweat trickle down your forehead.

He sees it isn’t working on you and takes a new approach. You watch as he lets go of his trident, resting it on a nearby pillar before reaching down and undoing his pants. It feels like you're in a mesmerised state as you watch him move aside his robe, revealing his hardening cock.

You take a step back and feel your butt hit against the marble altar. His clawed hand comes down onto your back and pushes you onto the altar, his cock twitching in anticipation as a small dribble of pre-cum drips from its tip.

His hands reach down and shred your robes, exposing your undergarments to him before they are ripped off with little care as well. You instinctively shut your legs and scrunch your eyes shut as your face burns with embarrassment.

You feel his large hands grasp onto your thighs and pry open your legs as he looks at your pussy before trailing a finger along it, feeling for any wetness. You let out a small, choked mewl as your body heats up from his touching but your mind still tries to reject him.

“Lord Mohg… I don’t think I can do this..” you feel anxiety prickle at your very soul at the prospect of essentially being bred for warriors. You, shamefully didn’t mind he wanted sex but you weren’t sure of the outcomes of the union.

“Quiet down and relax.” He says, positioning the tip of his cock against your pussy, rubbing it along your folds slowly, “I’ll get my warriors, accept your duty.” He moves one of his hands to pull down your top robes, revealing your breasts to him as your nipples harden from contact with the cold air.

You let out a small whimper, still unsure but you cover your burning face with your hands as you try to relax your body, feeling him trying to push in. He was large and wasn’t having an easy time at entering as he growls under his breath.

The sound of footsteps and a knock from where you presumed was the kitchen interrupted you and Mohg. The voice of the Bishop speaks up, “Sister (Name), there is something important for you to attend too.” His voice trembles a bit as if he knows he’s interrupting something.

Mohg lets go of your legs as he backs up, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. He looks down at you before speaking, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Accept your duties for the dynasty.” With those words that send a small chill through your spine, he turns and leaves the church.

You immediately pull your robes back up, covering your breasts and then try your best to cover your lower half with the shredded robes. It wasn’t the best as the majority of your thighs were exposed but it still covered your dignity.

Walking over to the kitchen door, you open it to find the Bishop. You presumed this was where he went when told to leave. He notices your shredded robe and slightly bewildered expression but doesn’t question it.

“The goblet must be filled with blood again and prepared for the communion.” He states one of your normal chores which you hadn’t had the time to do.

You nod, “could I excuse myself to my room for a moment?” You quickly ask and he nods and you immediately scurry to your room, locking the door behind you. Rummaging in your closet you quickly replace your shredded robes with fresh, non-damaged ones.

Walking out of your room, you grab the goblet from the kitchen and feel yourself go through the motions of collecting blood from each church member from a wound.

—————-

Resting on your bed, you stare up at the ceiling, thinking of the duty that Mohg has imposed onto you. He wanted a scion of warriors from you and who were you to reject him?

The only thing keeping you from accepting your duty with grace was the prospect of motherhood. You were mostly afraid of being a bad mother but yet again the children you’d produce were only meant for fighting.

You needed to make a choice and quickly but for now, you’d rather sleep. Resting your head on your pillow, you feel yourself being lulled to sleep within minutes.

It’s hard to tell when it’s morning in this place, as it’s underground but your internal clock wakes you up in time. Throwing yourself out from under the covers, you put your robes back on and fix up your appearance.

Walking out of your room, you feel a new purpose. That night of sleep made you finally accept your new duty, turns out all you needed was a night of rest to make up your mind.

Standing at the altar, you overlook yourself. Soon, Mohg will come into the church, presumably to collect you and take you somewhere more private. You wait patiently with a beating heart, awaiting the cream of the large, old door of the church.

Taking a deep breath, your heart skips a beat as the doors open up and the large, imposing figure of Mohg walks into the church and up to you. “Come with me.” His simple order is immediately abided as you follow after him as he walks out the church.

Following him on foot was rather hard, considering how much bigger he was than you, making him take longer strides. He notices how you struggle to keep up before grabbing you with one arm. You let out a yelp of surprise before he cradles you with one arm as he continues his walk back to the palace.

The journey was mostly a blur to you as your mind snaps back into reality as Mohg steps up the palace stairs. Looking around, you take in the large palace and the sight of a cocoon catches your eye but you don’t have time to gawk as he lets you down.

“We’ll begin immediately.” He states and doesn’t waste any time before fidgeting with his heavy robes before they fall from his body, revealing his naked body to you. He surprisingly looks rather handsome and appealing.

You avert your eyes as you slowly begin to undress yourself, starting with the top of your robes and revealing your large breasts to him again. You can feel his staring as you undress yourself further and before you know it, you're completely naked.

You're lifted by him again and onto a slab of stone, around the height of his waist. You're bent over onto your stomach and exposed fully to him. His clawed hands grasp firmly onto your thighs and squeeze them.

“You’ll make excellent warriors.” He mutters, looking down at your body which just screams childbearing. He grasps onto his hard cock, sliding it against your pussy, feeling its promising warmth and slickness.

He begins to push in and yet again is met with natural resistance due to his sheer size as you scrunch your face and clench your hands. This doesn’t deter him however as he keeps pushing in.

You bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from letting out a cry of pain. Despite the pain, your body is becoming far too sensitive again as tiny pricks of pleasure blend into the pain. You let out a gasp as he pushes the head of his cock in.

The stretch from just the head is intense and you can hear him growl lightly in pleasure behind you. You feel almost overwhelmed already as he slowly pushes more of his girthy length in and your muscles occasionally clench, squeezing him lightly.

His hands come to wrap around your waist, keeping your trembling from still while he continues to push in. His right hand moves to feel your lower stomach and feel the bulge from his girth already forming.

You finally feel him sheathe himself fully in, buried all the way to his balls. He keeps himself still as your body struggles to stretch out and accommodate him. You already feel beads of sweat beginning to form on your body from the pain.

“Relax, that’s it..” he nearly purrs as he feels you slowly do as he commands, making your muscles relax and stretch out nicely. Even if you were stretched out, you were still so tight for him like a warm cocksleeve.

Your legs twitch as you finally adjust to his cock and he starts to thrust slowly, sliding his cock halfway in and out. You let out hot, heavy breathes as tiny moans escape your mouth which pools with saliva.

His right hand moves to put his fingers in your mouth and pry open your mouth more so your louder and he gets exactly what he wants. He makes sure his claws don’t hurt your mouth as he keeps them in, feeling your saliva coating them.

Pleasure replaces pain in sheer moments as you can feel the ribbed parts of his cock slide against your walls so perfectly and the tip of his push into your g-spot. Every time he thrusted in, you’d feel every little rib of his cock sliding in and then out.

Your legs clench lightly from the pleasure as your pussy produces more wetness to keep the lubrication and thrusting pleasantly easy. Goosebumps shoot up your entire body as the head of his cock holds against your g-spot for a few moments longer than normal.

He begins to get impatient as his slow pace isn’t cutting it for him anymore. Grasping onto your waist again with both hands, he ups his speed by a few notches. He watches enticingly as your breasts lightly bounce with every thrust and how your face begins to contort with pleasure.

You feel almost overstimulated. His cock thrusting into you and the heat of your body producing sweat makes you breath so heavily. Moans escape you as drool begins to dribble from your mouth and down your chin.

Your hair begins to stick to your face from your sweat. You let out a gasp as he suddenly grasps harshly onto your thighs and thrusts at a fast pace, his balls slapping against your ass as you can hardly think.

Your hands clench as you try to handle him even now, but his speed begins to melt your mind as tears of pleasure prick at your eyes and a few stray tears fall down your cheeks. Now you're being overstimulated and you're enjoying it thoroughly.

Mohg watches every bounce of your breast and ass he continues to fuck you. He enjoys seeing and hearing how you moan out and cry at his actions. He sees just how well he’s stimulating you by your red face and crossing eyes.

A knot ties itself in your stomach and moments later, it releases as your first orgasm racks through your body. Your muscles clench onto Mohg but he simply continues his needy thrusts, not even close to his finish.

“A-ah! Lor..d M-Mohg..” you manage to moan out when your orgasm finishes and you feel how you're somehow even more sensitive, “sl-slow down!” Your begs fall onto deaf ears as he pursuits his own pleasure.

Your clit feels so sensitive as your abused g-spot is pounded against and major sparks of pleasure climb up your spine. You feel one his hands grasp onto your hair and tug, causing you to let out a loud, drawn out moan.

More drool pools down your mouth as tears from overstimulation fall down your face. Your entire body clenches itself again as another orgasm pierces your soul and body. You're starting to feel fuzzy already.

Your juices from your orgasms allow his cock to slide in and out of your pussy so easily. He breathes heavily as he begins to feel his own approaching orgasm, but only a small knot. He already knows he wants to bury himself deep to ensure your bred.

Trembling, you orgasm again as exhaustion threatens you. You can hardly keep up with his speed as another orgasm claims you just moments after the first. Your muscles can hardly clench anymore from the exhaustion as your eyes flutter.

Sweat coats your entire body while he tugs on your hair again. Your tongue falls from your mouth, as hot breath escapes and loud moans and praises spill from your half-stupid mind. Hes practically fucking your basic sense out of you.

He growls loudly as he thrusts harsher and harder than before, slamming into you with as much force as he could before he cums deep inside of you. His ropes of cum spill into your womb, ensuring the future of his warriors.

The warmth of his cum makes you orgasm one final time, this time, only a few small drips spill down your thighs as it mixes with his cum. His hand lets go of your hair to grasp onto your thighs again.

He breathes heavily, keeping himself in one spot before he slowly thrusts again and after a few sloppy thrusts, he cums once more, filling you up further.

Sliding out of you, his cum spills from your stretched out, gaping pussy as it could hardly handle so much. Sweat glistens in his dark skin as he begins to regain his energy.

However, your mind still feels like a cotton ball instead of a real brain. Your hands slowly clench and unclench as you try to ground yourself back to reality, which proves to be difficult.

You can hear him chuckle and can nearly feel his satisfaction. He’s got what he wanted, a new batch of warriors soon to come from you. You know this won’t be the only time he’ll breed you, as you're sure he wants many for his dynasty. Well, you’re ready to accept this duty once more.

——————

His dynasty is thriving. He has managed to do it, his warriors are powerful and strong. He has sent them out to pillage towns and kidnap many or kill them if they don’t submit.

Miquella still hasn’t awoken but it doesn’t matter that much anymore. He is protected by his warriors, his sons and daughters and can wait for as long as he wants and needs to.

He watches from his palace as they bring in new subjects or corpses for offering to the Formless Mother. His arsenal has grown so beautifully and it’s all thanks to you, the mother of every warrior.

A few warriors had been born as omens and luckily you survived, proving even more you were far more durable than he expected. He doesn’t need anyone else to make his warriors, only you’ll do for quality offspring.

Soon, his dynasty will rise above the ground with its many new and grown warriors who only know loyalty to him and the Formless Mother. He smiles, his large fangs making it hard to tell. He quite enjoys his little tarnished.

Chapter Text

“I said no.”

“Aw come on darlin’ don’t be so stuck up.” Patches pesters you.

You keep trying to walk away from him but he keeps up his persistent following, occasionally trying to get in front of you to stop you but only resulting in you shoving him out the way or going around him.

Patches keeps up with his attempts though, smiling smugly. “It’ll be quick, I promise.” He tries to persuade you but sees it not doing anything.

“Go away, Patches.” Gritting your teeth, you shove him out the way and he nearly falls on his ass but catches himself and runs back up to walk beside you.

“I won’t stop till ya’ say yes.” He says, “you’ll love it. Besides, don’t you think it’s a good compensation for all the things I get ya’? My services ain’t free.”

He had been hounding you around Firelink for a good five minutes now. It all started when you came to him to buy the items he ‘finds’, like you always did. But today he spoke up after you finished your browsing.

———

“Great stuff, ey?” He says, his usual little chats as you finish up and hand him the souls. He stays silent for a moment as he looks you up and down, checking you out as he always did. You were especially fine in his eyes, which you had come to, unfortunately, realise.

His eyes land on your chest for a few seconds before you turn and he gets a good eyeful of your ass. Standing up from his usual crouching position, he calls out. “Now hold on, m’darlin.”

Turning around, you raise your brow as he approaches and stops right in front of you, bending down the slightest to talk to you. “Y’know.. as a man, I have many needs, urges.” He begins, a shiteating grin on his face.

He continues, “since you're so kind, my best customer in fact.” He tries to butter you up, “you can help me, can’t you?”

You sigh, “no, Patches I’m not going to steal something for you or get something.” You try to move past him but he puts himself in front of you again, quickly waving his hands in a ‘no’ manner before putting them down.

“Oh, no, no, no.” He says in quick succession, “I’m not talking about stealing. Which I don’t do anymore, I’ve told you this.” He reminds you, which you clearly don’t believe and he knows this.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff, “Patches, I have important stuff to do. What do you want? Make it quick.” You really don’t have much important stuff to get done right this minute but you just want to get away from him and to another man.

Solaire was the man you wanted to get to. He has recently come to Firelink which was a major surprise to you. You had seen him gazing up at the sun, which he seemed so Infatuated by and you wondered how his eyes weren’t damaged by now. You made a mental note to talk to him after buying from Patches.

“Calm down, I’ll get to it.” He watches your reaction as he intentionally pauses. You let out a frustrated huff and he takes that as the que to speak, “we’ll have to go somewhere private, m’darlin.” He throws his arm over your shoulder, which makes you sneer.

“Why would we need to go anywhere? Especially somewhere private.” You fight the urge to throw his arm off of you, as you didn’t feel like picking a fight. “Just spit it out would you?” You're getting increasingly impatient as you so badly want to see Solaire, who you had developed somewhat of a hopeless crush on.

Patches laughs, a sound you're always off put by. “I’ll just say… it’s a good arrangement.” You look at his hands and he makes the hand motions for sex. Making one of his hands a circle and putting his finger through it.

You immediately recoil back and feel anger bubble under your skin. It feels like his hand draped across your shoulder is burning as you shove it off and begin to angrily walk away which had caused this entire fiasco.

——————

“I’ll make sure you finish first.” Patches says, still bothering you and following you around Firelink. You don’t respond as you try to scope out somewhere to lose him but not have to leave Firelink, lest you possibly miss Solaire and he leaves before you get to talk to him.

“I won’t tell anyone, promise! It can be our little secret!” He keeps walking beside you, his iconic grin still plastered on his face. “They won’t know and you won’t be known as a wench,” he pauses before he whispers to himself, “you will to me though.”

More anger rises to the surface as you hear his little whisper. You keep walking around Firelink, noting a few of the regulars who were here. Perhaps one of them could help you out? But looking around, the selection isn't very favourable.

Laurentius is kind and would definitely help you, but you wondered if Patches would intimidate him. Griggs and Big Hat Logan were far too busy with their scholarly stuff to even bother talking to you, they just dismissed you whenever you tried. And Lautrec was just as bad as Patches, so he obviously wasn’t on the list.

A familiar figure looking up to the sun catches your attention and you immediately know who it is, it’s Solaire who had moved from the spot you previously seen him in and now at a higher area to view the sun better. His shield and sword resting against the ruins of Firelink.

An idea shoots itself into your head, perhaps Patches will back off if you had made yourself unavailable. If you made yourself out to be in a relationship with Solaire. You remembered how Patches spoke of him, essentially calling him an idiot but a very strong one.

You suddenly pick up your pace as you run up to Solaire, who has his back turned to you and you suddenly engulf him in a tight hug, burying your face in his back. You can feel Solaire tense up as he flinched and took an inhale of surprise.

“Oh, Solaire! You’re here!” You say, louder than needed to make sure Patches hears as he catches up to you. “I thought you would never come and I’d have to go find you.” You keep yourself pressed against him and you rather like it, he’s warm and surprisingly a bit squishy beneath the chainmail.

He turns around, holding up his arm to see you better. He seems confused until you look up at him, with pleading eyes and he sees Patches walking up and immediately catches onto what you're doing.

You let go of him and he turns all the way around and to your surprise, wrapped his arm around your waist and pushed you against his side. “Ah, (Name), my sunlight.” His little nickname makes your heart skip a beat.

“I was just looking for you.” He gently rubs his hand up and down, slightly massaging your waist. You move your face to bury it in his green feathered pauldrons, which are rather comfortable, just to hide your face as it burns.

Patches pauses as he sees the little display and you can hear him let out an angry mutter before speaking up, “oi bruv,” he says, addressing Solaire. “She’s your wench?” His insult certainly doesn’t pass well with Solaire.

“She is my partner.” You swear you can hear him getting angry, which you’ve never even heard him get the slightest bit frustrated so this surprises you. His arm tightens around you, almost protectively as Patches takes a step forward.

You can tell that Patches is suspicious. “Oh really? Is she now?,” he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Prove it then.” He can see how both you and Solaire tense up.

Solaire puts his hand on his helmet's chin, thinking for a few moments before he lets out a quiet ‘ah!’ as an idea forms into his head. He turns to whisper into your ear, “forgive me for my brashness.”

Before you could ask what he means by that, he suddenly lifts his helmet enough to show his face. Your eyes widen, seeing his face for the first time but you don’t have much time to fawn over him as he presses his lips against yours.

His lips feel so soft and warm as he kisses you. The hand he used to take off his helmet, drops it to the grass with a small thump and moves it to caress your cheek. He can feel himself getting greedy and forces himself to separate his lips from yours, much to his and your dismay.

You feel almost dizzy as he breaks away. His hand removes itself from your cheek to rest at his side once more, while his other hand around your waist keeps a tight grip and you bury your face back in his pauldrons. Solaire turns to look at Patches again, a stern expression on his face.

Patches can see how tense Solaire is getting and his confidence wavers as he turns around and mutters angrily, walking off to where you presumed he always was. Solaire keeps a good watch until Patches is completely out of sight to look down at you again.

“You’ve gotten yourself in quite the encounter, ha ha.” He laughs and you feel him move slightly. “Ah, but yet again I’m sorry for my brashness, I should’ve asked to kiss you before I did.” He apologises, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Your face burns with a blush as you try your best to attempt to brush off the kiss, “y-yeah it was no problem at all, I can see why you did it. It really sold the act, haha!” You force out a laugh, trying to keep your composure.

Clearing your throat, you speak again. “Thank you, anyhow, Solaire. I really appreciate it.” You smile up at him. “I thought he would never leave me alone.”

“Of course, I am a warrior of sunlight, I help with much more than simple fights.” He suddenly whispers, “tell me if you ever need help again, I’ll help you anytime.”

You nod and you realise his arm is still wrapped around your waist. You can’t help but enjoy it, essentially living out your little fantasy in the short moment but you know you have things to do. “Hey, Solaire…” you nod your head to his arm still wrapped around you.

“Hmm?” He says, “oh! I’m sorry, haha, I must have forgotten.” He takes his hand from your waist and you can’t help but miss it already.

“It’s completely fine.” You say and suddenly remember something, this is Solaires first time in Firelink. He most likely hasn’t met any of the other residents there. Suddenly grabbing onto his hands, you smile with excitement. “Oh! You must meet my friends!”

He’s a bit taken by surprise at first but he relaxes, “I’d love to.” He says and you immediately hold onto his hand and begin guiding him through Firelink, attempting to go meet Laurentius first because he’s the most friendly and most likely not busy.

As you walk, you can’t help but realise another thing. Patches is always here and as you’ve seen, sometimes talks to the other inhabitants. If you played off with Solaire being your boyfriend to him and no one else, he’ll catch on and most likely will try to hound you again.

You suddenly stop and turn to face Solaire, “hey, I’m sorry if this is sudden but could you keep up the act? You know, the partner one?” You ask, “it’s just.. I don't want Patches to be told that we were lying to him by the other residents.”

“Ah, I understand. Of course I will, my sunlight.” He shows you his sense of humour as he chuckled afterwards. His hand tightens around yours as you continue your walk.

The sitting figure of the friendly pyromancer comes into view as you walk over to Laurentius. “Hey Laurentius, I want you to meet somebody.” You tug Solaire a bit to stand directly next to you.

“Oh? Who is it?” He looks up and meets Solaires, “well hello! It’s quite nice to meet you.” Laurentius stands up to extend a hand for Solaire to shake, and Solaire does so.

You watch as the two seem to click instantly, chattering on excitedly as you smile, glad that they are getting along. You hear the last bits of their conversation.

“Indeed I am! I am (Name)’s partner.” Solaire chuckled wholeheartedly, keeping up with the favourable lie.

“You’re quite the lucky man then.” Laurentius responds, “she’s quite the catch and I can see why she likes you.” Laurentius’s expression suddenly hardens as he lets out a sigh, “oh I’m sorry, friend. It’s about time I need to practise my pyromancies, I don’t want to get rusty.”

“Yes, I understand. I wish you luck.” Solaire says, waving goodbye. You take this as the queue to lead Solaire around Firelink again.

Leading him by the hand, you introduce him to Big Hat Logan and Griggs, who surprisingly weren’t busy with studies or practising their magic. He got along with them pretty well, but not as well as Laurentius. Which you suspected his quick friendship was because the fire he wielded reminded Solaire of the sun.

Guiding Solaire to the central bonfire, you sit down and he sits next to you with his thigh touching yours. “Well that’s about everyone,” you didn’t introduce him to Lautrec or a few others, simply because they weren’t there. “So, what did you think?”

“They were all magnificent, you are very lucky to have friends in them.” He smiles at you and you can feel your heart melt. With the silence that follows it’s a comfortable one instead of an awkward one.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Solaire looks a little more damper than he is. Which is at all, considering how jolly he usually is and you can notice instantly. He’s picking at the grass and a little hunched over with a distracted stare down at the ground.

Concern etched itself into your mind as you looked over to him, “is something wrong, Solaire?” You ask, a bit more hush hush than usual. Not wanting another person to possibly hear, just in case.

He looks over at you, his blue eyes catching onto yours. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep this from you, my friend.” The final word hurts your heart for a moment and you flinch but he doesn’t notice. “I’ve been…my faith..” he has trouble finding the words as he rubs his temples.

Putting your hands on his pauldrons, you massage his shoulders gently. It’s a bit hard for him to feel it but he still does, relaxing him. The feathers run through your fingers like silk, you wonder what material he used to make it and how he kept it so clean.

He sighs before speaking again, “this must sound strange, I don’t blame you if you think so.” He pauses before continuing, “my journey for my ‘sun’ has been hard on me. I’ve searched near everywhere, but I still can’t find it.” His hands clutch for a moment before he relaxes again. “I am… beginning to question what it’s all for, if it even exists.”

You gasp, looking at him with an agape mouth for a moment before clearing your throat and returning your expression to normal. Your voice is low as you speak, “oh, Solaire. I don’t think of you as strange, everyone has hard times.” You urge him to continue on.

A few flowers around you, catch your attention. The white petals of their heads would look perfect against his feathery pauldrons and you pluck a few of them, and beginning to tie the stems into the feathers. Which was harder than you expected as you squint your eyes and move your face closer, struggling to tie.

Solaire doesn’t notice what you're doing as he continues, “where else could my sun be? It was not in Anor Londo. Just where could it be? Lost izalith?” He thinks out loud. “I became undead to pursue this! I cannot give up. But, when I peer at the sun above, it occurs to me… what if I’m seen as a laughing stock? As a blind fool without reason?”

“Solaire!” You lightly smack his arm, careful not to disrupt the flowers you placed in his pauldrons. “Don’t speak of yourself like that! You aren’t a fool, not at all.” You say as you continue to tie the flowers in. “Never did I ever think of you as something to laugh at, and I doubt others have thought of it either.” You smile. “You’re practically impossible to hate.”

He blushes hearing your words, “thank you, I do appreciate our talks.” He pauses, “am I really ‘impossible to hate?’” He asks you and you regret your words. Of course you find it impossible to hate him, due to your crush on him but you need to cover it up.

“Certainly.” You say, focusing your attention on the flowers instead of him. “Let’s see, you’re very kind, you’re resilient, you’re practically a beacon of light yourself.” You say, leaving out the bits where you think he’s charismatic and handsome. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but you are the most motivated person I know. Y’know sometimes I think of you, to feel motivated.” You blurt out the last part.

“You do?” He asks and your heart sinks but you need to play it off again.

“Y-yeah… it’s in a way that, that uh..” you struggle to find the words as you fumble with the stems of the flowers. “In a way that I know you’d never give up so why should I?” You gain the courage to meet his gaze again. “It really helps to see a light in this dark world. I suppose it’s like a sun, to me atleast. I may not know what you mean when you look for your ‘sun’ but I think I know mine.”

He’s near speechless at your little confession. You yourself didn’t even know of how you sounded, but to him, it sounded like you confessed your feelings to him. His heart beats wildly as his face heats up further, did you really recuperate? Or was he being idiotic?

Noticing his silence, you speak up. “Solaire? Is something the matter?”

His eyes land on your lips, thinking back on the kiss he gave you to sell the idea that he and you were together. Your lips felt so perfect against his, so soft and supple. He’d do anything to get that again. Another idea worms itself into his mind, perhaps, just maybe, your fake relationship with him doesn’t have to be fake anymore.

His hand comes underneath your chin, gently caressing it as he stares into your eyes. The silence is heart pounding before he leans in and places a chaste, soft kiss on your lips.

You’re surprised by the kiss, but don’t mind it. “Solaire… no one is watching, we don't have to continue our little charade.” You say, your voice husky and low.

Solaire places another kiss on your lips and his hands move to caress your face. You recuperate the kiss as it gets more intense and longer, separating only to take small breaths before immediately meeting both of your lips again.

His tongue slides across your lips to ask for permission and you oblige, opening your mouth to let his tongue in. His lips practically engulf yours as his tongue explores your mouth, meeting with yours.

You find yourself practically climbing atop of him as his hands wrap around your waist to pull you up further. Your legs straddle him and your arms reach up to run through his hair and pull slightly, making him groan.

The flowers you had so carefully placed in his pauldrons slowly fall off and onto the ground below you. Pulling away, you breathe heavily. A string of saliva still connecting your lips and his together. Your eyes lock onto his which brim with want and desire.

“If I didn’t know any better..” he begins, “I’d say you’d have feelings for me.” He smiles as he watches your expression.

“How did you know?” You laugh, “but I wasn’t the one who started this.” You lean back into the kiss greedily and feel his large hands trail up your sides and to your chest, gently fondling your breasts.

You moan into the kiss. Your nipples harden beneath your clothes and you can feel yourself getting heavily aroused and you can feel him getting aroused. His erection can be felt through the chainmail, poking against your crotch.

Breaking away, you feel far too hot to keep your clothes on any further. You deceive to give Solaire a little show as you pull off your shirt and expose your bra-clad breasts to him.

His breath hitches as he watches you agonisingly slowly undo your bra. His erection aches as he can feel himself getting greedy and his hips buck up, making your breasts bounce as he lifts you just for a moment.

Fully taking off your bra, your nipples harden in contact with the cold breeze and your arousal. Taking his hand into yours, you guide his hand to fondle your breast again and he does so. Your hardened nipples are so sensitive as his thumb brushes over them, making you let out a mewl and jump lightly.

Your upper body is completely bare to him and he drinks it up. He knows it isn’t fair for just you to be getting naked. His hand moves from your breast to assist his other hand in taking off his upper armour. It’s a bit of a hassle but it eventually falls off with a small ‘thump’ into the grass.

You see an opportunity as his pants slacken due to the missing upper piece and slowly slide your hand down his chest and stomach and eventually down his pants. He groans as he feels you grab onto his length and slowly stroke him.

“So excited aren’t you?” You tease him as your fingers feel his tip and become coated in his sticky pre-cum. You keep stroking him, feeling his entire cocks length and every little vein you can feel. You can feel he’s a bit hairy at his base too.

His face flushes and his hips buck into your hands, desperately needing more pleasure. He, of course, doesn’t forget that you need pleasure too as his right hand snakes around your waist and grasps onto your ass, squeezing and making you gasp.

“I think my search has come to an end, my sunlight.” He admits, his voice husky and with the slightest rasp. “I’ve searched for my sun so much that I failed to see.” His free hand caresses your cheek as you slow down your actions and feel your heart swell. “That she was always right in front of me.”

It feels as if your heart will erupt as you smile at him. Emotions more than just arousal and lust, flood your body. You can feel his genuine love and trust with how he lets you touch him and just how gentle he’s being with you.

Kissing him again, you greedily taste his lips and a muffled ‘I love you’ escapes from your lips as the messy kiss continues. Keeping up with your stroking, he groans into your mouth as his legs twitch.

The familiar feeling of an incoming orgasm makes itself known to him. Breaking from the sloppy kiss, he speaks, “I’m going to- a-ah!” He doesn’t have any time to finish his sentence as his orgasm floods his body, causing him to cum all over your hand and some of his stomach.

Taking out your hand from his pants, you inspect it and see the cum drenched all over it, sticking between your fingers.

“Oh my..” you hear Solaire mutter, “I’m sorry for the mess.” He apologises as he looks away shyly, seeing your hand sullied by his fluids.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get as much of this,” you look at your hand, “out of you, as I possibly can.” With that, you use your non dirty hand to pull down his pants, enough to free his cock as it springs out from its restricting confines.

Pulling off your own pants was of little hassle and you simply pulled your panties aside, far too eager to pull them off as well. Gently grabbing onto his cock, you position yourself atop of it. The tip slides against your wet pussy and Solaire let’s out a barely contained moan.

His hands come to rest on your waist and he slowly pushes you down. The feeling of how wet, slick and warm you were around his cock sends shivers up his spine as he bites his lip, struggling not to let out a guttural groan.

Putting your hand over your mouth, you smother your moan from the stretch of his cock entering you. “W-we have to keep quiet,” your voice is strained as you speak. “We can’t be caught.” Even if you were both having sex at the central bonfire, you had noted that just about everyone was either gone or sleeping before you engaged Solaire.

You feel his cock sink deeper into you as you finally push all the way down. His length is the perfect size and his girth is enough to make you feel satisfied. You feel every little vein and twitch of his cock as it rests deep inside you.

Slowly moving up and then bringing yourself down slowly makes you hiss in pleasure as you mutter a ‘fuck..’ it’s been ages since you’ve ever had an encounter like this and based on his reaction, Solaires first time In many ages too.

Both of your bodies ache for more of each other. His hands come to grip onto your asscheeks and to your surprise, lift you before bringing you back down. It starts off slow as he tests his thrusts every time he makes you go down, reaching deep inside of you and the tip of his cock brushing your g-spot.

You keep your hand pressed firmly against your mouth, small muffled moans and cries escaping through the small gaps in between your fingers. He sees just how you enjoy it and picks up his speed.

His balls slap against your ass, the sound of skin on skin the only thing you can hear other than both of your muffled moans and groans. You do your best to move up and down, assisted by his hands holding you up or bringing you down. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you feels so good.

Suddenly, his thrusts become faster as you lose the momentum you had going with him. Gasping, you feel him practically bruise against your g-spot. Little trickles of fluids fall down your leg and trail down his cock. Your fluids make it far more easier for him to get faster and deeper as his teeth clench.

“Fu-fuck me!” You cry out into your hand, still keeping yourself as quiet as possible but the lust rolling into your mind like a fog, makes you take more risks. “So… good…” you mewl out. The majority of the words you tried to say afterwards die in your throat and transform into moans.

Solaire grits his teeth as another orgasm quickly approach’s. He feels so sensitive now. Your insides clench him so wonderfully and how warm you were certainly kicked him further into the depths of his lust and pleasure.

Seeing you practically riding him with a face contorted by pleasure, he feels that fuzzy feeling of love. He’s had a hopeless crush on you as of recently. You had helped him out in so many areas and fought alongside him. Not only were you competent in battle but a great friend and now, a great partner.

He feels your insides flex and clench onto him as tiny tears prick at the sides of your eyes. Pleasure rakes your entire form as more fluids drip out until you throw your head back and let out a loud moan, clenching onto him and orgasming.

He thrusts up, burying himself as far as he can and let’s out a groan. He orgasms shortly after you, his warm cum seeping deep into your body. A few sloppy thrusts are all he can manage before he cums again. A few trails of his fluid leak down your legs and onto him.

Breathing heavily, your hair sticks to your face as you regain your energy. Sweat glistens on yours and his skin from your passionate coupling. But yet, you don’t feel satisfied just yet and you put your hands on his pecs, looking into his tired blue eyes.

“Please, again..” you huff out, already feeling another wave of arousal and wetness coat your pussy. The feeling of him getting hard again answers your question as he begins another round, much to his and your delight.

——————-

Laying on the grass, Solaire keeps you close and cuddles you. Your skin is covered in bite marks, shades of purple mostly on your neck and even some on your thighs when he serviced your clit with his tongue.

Tiredness pulls on your eyelids, making them heavy and hard to keep open. Solaires hand rests underneath your head, his thumb gently running across your scalp.

The stars shine beautifully and the moon is full tonight. The only sound now is yours and his gentle breathing and the sound of crickets and the occasional owl hooting in the distance.

A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead as you look at Solaire behind you and smile. His hair is a mess, not in the neat ponytail it once was tied up in. That was particularly your fault, you had taken it off early into the first round and mostly forgotten about it.

Further cuddling into him, you let out a sigh of peaceful content as the sheer exhaustion and calm of the aftermath takes you over and you fall asleep in your hold.

Solaire watches as you sleep peacefully. A little white speck catches his attention as he looks at his discarded armour, the white flowers on his green pauldrons catching his attention. So, that’s what you were doing while he was talking.

Another white speck takes his attention and it’s the same type of flower that you used to decorate his pauldrons, sticking up right next to him and you. He reaches over and plucks it from the ground, inspecting it. It’s beautiful and quaint.

Looking down at you, he moves your hair to push the flower on top of your ear. Something beautiful can only belong with something more or equally as beautiful and the flower fits perfectly with you.

Soon enough, Solaire lets himself fall asleep, his arms still protectively wrapped around you and his face buried into your neck, inhaling your scent. His heart feels as if it swelled to five times its original size, filled with unwavering loyalty and love, to you, his sunlight.

Chapter Text

Content: Requested! Reader is a cruel bitch to Greirat at first (for a while actually).They fight at first. Kinda tsundere reader?? only for a few little scenes. Kinda femdom. Overstimulation (for Greirat). Multiple orgasms. Crying (in a good way)

Lothric Castle belongs to you. Not in the way that you ruled over it as its ruler but it belonged to you in territory. Being a thief meant having good grounds to steal and pillage from and luckily for you, Lothric Castle was all yours as you hadn’t been contested at all.

The place was filled to the brim with goods that you would peddle out to your customers, who were ashen and usually you only saw them once or twice before they became a corpse to pillage. You’d collect items from the castle and go all the way to the Undead Settlement, all on your own, and sell them there.

Doing the journey was incredibly dangerous and took far too long. So you’d usually do it once every full moon or so. The word of your precious wares spread amongst those with sanity still intact, so whenever you made your adventure down, you’d usually find a good group waiting for you to arrive.

In the thieving ‘community’ it’s well known never to intrude on another’s grounds or even think of stealing something from there. You’ve gotten into your fair share of fights over this, but only when you were young and didn’t have grounds of your own.

How you survived for so long in the castle that’s known to practically eat people was a mystery to all, but you. You knew that strength wouldn’t be needed here, any type of fighting wouldn’t be needed In Fact. You only needed to be faster and stealthier than the many guards and others loitering around.

You used the scaffolding, roofs, support beams and cleverly set up pathways to avoid them altogether. If they ever spotted you, they practically couldn’t do anything about it as they couldn’t reach you. Which was rather hilarious to watch them pace around, trying to jab you with a spear or sword.

Many times you nearly fell off your platforms but overtime you got used to it as it became your second nature. You’ve been doing this for so long that it feels weird to walk on the ground, almost like you had sea legs but instead ‘air’ legs as you so used to being high up.

You survived here for so long and had many great things. You thought that no other thief would dare to intrude. The castle not only warded them off but also your markers. Broad slashes in stone and wood which are synonymous with any smart thief that the area is taken.

So why had the pile of golden jewellery you set away in a corner, gone? With tell tale signs of another thief, a sloppy, panicked one at that. Prints in the dusty floor tells you they had taken them in a haste, most likely being chased by a guard. No blood was around so you presumed they escaped.

It seems the prints are decently fresh as you hop down, your legs wobbling slightly before adjusting to a standing position instead of a crawling crouch. Your legs were incredibly strong from all the climbing and balancing you have to do, so jumping from the support beam to the floor didn’t injure you at all.

Looking over the tracks, you see how they run out the closest door. With how long you were here, you know the path they’re taking has many support beams and scaffolding above it. Which was perfect for you as you hop on the closest ledge and onto the roof's support to follow the path.

Jumping, or more accurately, leaping from beam to beam was easy but exhausting as you follow the trail. The sounds of clinking and something skittering around catches your ears as you close in on the suspected intruder.

You stop as you look down and finally spot the intruding bastard. He wears a thrall hood and appears to be of an older age, but you didn’t care about that, an intruder is an intruder. He’s hunched over something and a golden glint catches your eyes.

Those are your jewels! Anger floods your veins as your nails dig into the wooden support beam. You can’t afford to be spotted or heard though as you continue to watch and wait for an opportunity to strike. You know what you want to do, pounce and scare the hell out of him so he never comes back.

Positioning yourself, you ready yourself to slink down from the beam as stealthily as possible and as fast as possible. He doesn’t seem to notice you as you crawl down, making very little to no noise as you do so.

Reaching into your belt, you unclip a sheathe and pull out a dagger. Its blade twisted so beautifully. You had made this dagger instead of stealing it so it was all your pride. You made it when everything was fine and the world didn’t practically end, so it tied to your past and you just can’t let it go.

Your footsteps don’t make a sound as you sneak up closer and closer. The dagger held in your hands poised to strike. Of course, you had no intention of using it immediately but only using it just in case he refuses to leave or becomes aggressive.

As you reach directly behind him. He turns around and you don’t have much time to think as you jump onto him, his back slamming down onto the wooden floor as he lets out an audible gasp of fear and shock. Your hands hold him down by his shoulders and his hands grasp onto your arms, attempting to move them but failing miserably.

“Who are you?!” You practically sneer into his face as you await the answer. You don’t really like being so aggressive but it’s how you’ll get your point across in this cutthroat business.

When he struggles to answer as he trips over his own words. You grow annoyed and impatient. Taking one of your hands off of his shoulder you grab your dagger and point its blade at his throat. He, in response, lets out a pitiful whimper.

“Answer me.” You demand as his hands let go of your arms to make a surrendering gesture.

He knows he’s cornered and it’s best he should abide by your commands, “G-Greirat.” He says his name, stuttering lightly while trying to think of a way to get out of this.

“Well, G-Greirat.” You mock him by mimicking the stutter, “I don't appreciate other thieves here.” You press the blade against his throat and you hear him take a sharp inhale. “Give me back the times you took.”

“All right, fine. You caught me…” He grumbles and watches as you climb off of him. He gets up, dusting himself off before he reaches down and grabs the jewels before reluctantly presenting them to you. He feels annoyance ripple under his skin. He was just going to escape, he made all the precautions to avoid you as he had seen the markers around, and he escaped a chasing knight all just to be foiled by you at the last minute.

Harshly grabbing it from him, you inspect it to make sure he hasn’t kept anything. All of the jewels are there, big and small. Stuffing it into your pocket, you suddenly point your dagger at him and slowly advance while he backs away. “You stole from me…” you hiss, “and I don’t think you should run away unscathed. You personally offended me, and no one gets away with that.”

You don’t really like to do this, but to get your point across in this world of criminals, you’ll have to be pointlessly cruel. Grabbing his arm harshly as he tries to back away, you pull him in and attempt to bring the wicked dagger down onto his hand, intending to impale it straight through as a reminder.

The blade doesn’t bite through his hand as he shoves you suddenly. Causing you to let go of your dagger as it clatters on the ground. His hands grab onto your arms as you both struggle, attempting to overpower one another.

He manages to push you onto the ground, his hands around your throat; cutting off your air. Grabbing at his thrall hood, you attempt to rip it off and possibly grab hair or jab your thumb in his eye. When it doesn’t work, you rear your legs up to scrunch in and use all your strength to kick up, straight into his stomach.

You practically send him flying back and onto a wall, knocking the air out of him and stunning him for a moment. You take the opportunity to rush up and grab him, but unbeknownst to you and him. You had grabbed onto him and shoved him down the stairs, causing both of you to tumble down.

Landing harshly on the bottom, you let go of him as you let out a hiss of pain, feeling bruises from the fall beginning to form. He isn’t unscathed either as you notice how ruffled he looks, his hood nearly knocked off. He knows this isn’t worth fighting as he stands up, clutching his stomach as he wheezes out. “Cold piss..” he curses, “heavens, I-I’ll leave.”

“Don’t come back either, next time.” You say as you stand up, straight and tall. “I’ll kill you.” You aren’t really sure how you feel about killing such a wimpy looking person but it’s better to keep your promises.

Turning around, you walk up the stairs and back into the room where your dagger lays on the ground. Grabbing it and putting it back into its leather sheath. Checking your pockets, you make sure no jewels flew out during the scuffle and they seem fine.

Jumping up with wobbly legs onto scaffolding and then the roof support beams. You begin to make your way deeper into Lothric Castle, where your little crevice that you made your ‘room’ laid. As you walk across the beams, you can only hope that the rat has left as you didn’t bother to check.

Little did you know, this certainly wouldn’t be the last time you’d encounter him.

————

It’s been a few days. Your bruises from the nasty fall down the stairs and fight with Greirat were purple with slight hints of green. They were extremely sensitive and you wince as you walk across the beams, feeling every muscle much more than usual.

Bandages sloppily wrapped around them. You weren’t exactly versed in medical type care so that explained most of it. A large sac of clinking trinkets heaved over your shoulders, causing you to be more careful as you traverse the castle. The added weight could cause you to fall or the bag to rip.

It’s time for you to traverse all the way over to the Undead Settlement. Something you usually despise due to how exhausting it is. But it’s how you keep your criminal business running and some sacrifices, like your health, have to be made.

Walking across more beams, you were much slower than usual and didn’t jump across them but instead found the nearest point the beams came close together and stepped onto them. Your cautious approach and slowed pace bores you so you begin to look around at stuff you usually wouldn’t.

Looking down, you survey the area, only finding the usual. Hollowed soldiers and others scattered about, wandering aimlessly. Occasional old blood stains and toppled over bookcases or discarded items long forgotten.

Something catches your eye as you stop completely. Something that wasn’t there before and clearly shouldn’t be. It was tracks again, but little droplets of fresh, shining, red drops of blood following them to where the tracks went.

He’s back, and injured. You grit your teeth, how dare he come back here after stealing from you. You look back on the bag hefted over your shoulders, your customers can wait. If you were to let Greirat run around, your valuables could be taken while you were in the Undead Settlement.

Adjusting the bag, you hop down onto some scaffolding and then slide down a wooden support beam. The added weight causes you to slide down faster than you expected as you stumble when you land on the ground.

You gain your bearings and look at the familiar tracks and notice another thing, another pair of tracks seeming to chase after them. You immediately know it's a hollowed soldier's footprints. The glistening droplets of fresh blood sends a strange wave of nervousness through you.

Shaking the nervousness from your head, you follow Greirats tracks again, being careful not to be spotted by any hollows. Reaching into the leather sheathe strapped onto your hip, you pull out the familiar twisted dagger.

You know the promise you made to Greirat, that you will kill him next time he comes here but did you really want that? He was injured already, so it felt even more scummy to do so. You weren’t really a natural born criminal, so you lacked the instincts to kill no matter what but you could be cruel.

The smell of blood wafts into your nose as you continue to follow the trail. It seems you're getting close due to the smell which was most likely the gathering of blood in one place. Another bout of nervousness hits you as you turn the corner.

Your eyes land on a hollow soldier, standing atop a familiar figure, blood laced on the tip of the soldier's spear. Dropping your heavy bag, you lunge for the soldier and grapple onto its back. You don’t really understand why, but it feels like the right thing to do as you wrestle with the soldier trying to fling you off of its back.

Taking the wicked dagger held in your hands, you slide it across the hollow soldier's throat. It lets out a scratchy screech before collapsing and you jump off of its back before you fall with it. Looking down at the soldier, you still aren’t sure why you attacked it.

Hearing a groan, you turn your head up to the figure of Greirat, curled in a ball with spots of red on his body where blood trickled forth. Seeing the pitiful display made your heart hurt but your mind reels, ‘he stole from you! Keep your promise!’ You're supposed to be a heartless criminal, one that doesn’t care.

Scoffing, you approach the sad figure and lightly kick his ankle, making him let out a scared yelp. “Get up would you?” You say and Greirat immediately recognizes your voice as he moves his face from his hands.

“Oh, it-it’s you.” He trembles as he props himself up with his hands, looking at you through his thrall hood. “I should thank you-“

“No.” You immediately snap out, “I told you to not come back and you did.” Taking the dagger, you hold it firmly and point it toward him, jabbing it forward with each word to enunciate how serious you are. “See where being an idiot gets you? That hollow soldier would have killed you.”

He puts his hands up as you jab the dagger at him and grill him. “I should kill you right now actually!” You say, your temper rising with each word. “Finish that soldier's job for him!” You can feel yourself lying but keep up the facade.

Despite your heated words, he waits for his turn to speak. “Heavens, please don't.” He says as he stands, keeping his distance from you. “If you don’t, I-I’ll be sure to repay you in kind, be in your debt.” He clasps his hands together.

Stopping for a few moments, you think on it. What could he have or give you that you would want from him? Of course you could just have him leave and not have to stab him but yet again, someone being indebted to you can open up many paths.

Looking back at the bag you discarded, you think of the many trinkets in the bag. There’s fancy accessories and strong rings inside, but you find yourself lacking in the natural department. Meaning, you don’t have moss or other items usually sold by other ‘vendors’ which irks you.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.” You say and put the dagger back into its leather sheath. By his looks and his obvious lack of experience at Lothric Castle, you connect that he’s from a place abundant in moss and organic material.

“So that I don’t kill you, I’ll have you do something for me.” You begin, “I want you to go down to, well, wherever you came from and collect as much moss and other stuff as you can.” You say and hand him an empty bag. “All for free.”

Your last statement strikes a cord in him, “w-what? For free..” he mutters to himself but a glare from you makes him shut up. “Thank you, you will not be dissapointed.” He takes the bag from your hands quickly. He doesn’t like the idea of doing this for essentially free labour but perhaps you’ll let him have stuff if he does this for you.

You watch as he turns and scurries off. Letting out a hefty sigh, you take the bag and lug it over your shoulders again. Your customers could wait, you suppose. It would be better to have more items for them before you went down to the undead settlement.

Now all you had to do was wait. You prop yourself up on a safe ledge as you squat down, keeping a lookout while you wait. Either he comes back or not, you don’t really care.

——————

Greirat puts down the bag full of all types of moss, firebombs, and even three embers, down in front of you. “There, all that you asked for.. I hope.” He adds the last part under his breath. Your request was very open so he had to improvise.

Jumping off from your ledge, you open the bag and inspect it. The moss is a good addition to your stocks and you could go with some fire bombs but the embers are what catch your eye. You ran out of embers a while ago and many ashen would pay handsomely for just one.

Looking back up at him, you feel a pang of remorse. “I suppose, because you did good. I’ll give you something.” Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out a golden bracelet and toss it to him. He catches it with minor difficulty as it fumbles in his hands.

He looks at the bracelet, recognizing it as one of the ones he tried to steal from you just days ago. He perks up as you speak again. “I’ve no use for it. I like pretty things but it’s cluttering up my space, sell it or do whatever. I just need it gone.”

“Will do,” he says with a delighted tone as he pockets the bracelet. “Is this the end of our deal?” He asks and you absentmindedly nod.

“Yeah, those embers paid off your debt I suppose.” You mumble as you don’t have much use for him anymore.

“W-wait.” He says as you begin to walk away with the bag. “How about we make another arrangement?” He trots up to you as you stop. “It will benefit both of us. I’ll go down for more items you want and you’ll give me some of Lothric Castle's valuables.” He and you know he’s only in it for the items in the castle.

“No.”

He’s shocked for a moment by the blunt answer. “Wait wait,” he continues to follow after you. “And,” he adds, stretching it out. “I’ll pillage for embers too, I know where to get them. Hardly a shabby deal, hm?”

You stop and think again, letting out a sigh. You nod before continuing your walk with Greirat following after you, which you don’t notice for a few moments. Turning around, you glare at him. “Why are you following me? Go do your part of the deal.” You say harshly.

He jumps a bit at your tone. “Yes, right. I’ll leave for some time.” He fumbles out and turns around immediately. His mind is set on getting those valuables you guard so feverishly, they’ll sell for a high price and it will be all worth the high risk.

—————

That was his first and only intention. All he had to do was to give you stuff and you’ll give him something random. A few times you even gave him some requested items, such as a few bags of souls or jewels.

This was all that happened. You would wait at a specific ledge, propped up and away from dangers and hop down whenever Greirat showed up with the bag. But if he returned with a bag you considered too small or the contents were inadequate, you wouldn’t come down.

Wind blows through the castle as you wait on the ledge. Usually Greirat would be here by now. Did he flake out and decide this wasn’t worth it after all? It wouldn’t surprise you, you would flake out if you were at his end of the deal.

Tapping the stone scaffolding you crouch on with your dagger. You flubber your lip and look around, no sign of Greirat anywhere. It’s been a few minutes since his usual arrival time.

The occasional chirp of a bird or the distant groans of a hollow echo on your ears as you wait. And this waiting time gives you time to reflect on the past months that you and Greirat have been doing this daily deal.

He’s rather nice you suppose, a bit sleazy on the underside you could add. Lately he’s been showing more of his personality to you, as if that ‘professionalism’ of thieving. Would thieves be considered professional? You aren’t sure and don’t care. Was slowly weaning off.

His sense of humour actually made you laugh a few times, which startled both you and him when it first happened. But his little jokes, which you hated to admit to yourself, were starting to become the highlight of the day and you were beginning to be eager for your daily transactions.

You were becoming more gentle too, showing some more personality than just being authoritative and mean. You found yourself checking him for injuries a few times and wrapping them up in hasty bandages. Of course, you veiled it under ‘ensuring he’d be healthy enough to continue getting your items.’

Thinking back on it, you feel a heat creeping to your cheeks. You’ve already come to terms with your blossoming feelings. It sounds ridiculous to begin fawning over a man who you tried to kill at first and as a result fell down a massive flight of stairs, but you couldn’t control how you felt.

You can’t help but think that he recuperated as he had been acting strange as of the last few weeks. His speech was more stuttery and faster than usual when he was around you, as if he was shy. Based on his personality when you first met, he most certainly was not shy. A bit wimpish, but not shy.

It was his presence that made you realise how lonely you were. With no one to talk to in Lothric Castle besides him, and even then only once a day and usually for a few minutes. You miss him sometimes, which seems crazy to you.

Looking around again, there’s still no signs of him anywhere. Anxiety pangs at your heart as a strange wave of concern washes over you. Did something happen to him? Did you need to save him again? Deciding on a whim, you hop down off of the scaffolding.

If he isn’t going to come to you, you’ll come to him. You haven’t ventured out of Lothric Castle in a while so you're a bit nervous. Out there, there aren't many places you can climb up to get out of danger and you don’t know much about the layouts of other areas.

Putting your hand over your chest to calm your beating heart, you begin to make your way out of Lothric Castle. It wasn’t very hard as you mostly ran past the slow hollows you gave up chasing near immediately.

The ground is no longer smooth rock but instead dirt and grass. You’ve made it out of Lothric Castle and the archives surprisingly unscathed but it certainly wasn’t easy. No wonder Greirat took his sweet time getting to you, it almost makes you feel bad for him.

Noticing familiar prints on the ground, you spot a little crevice in a torn down wall. They aren’t fresh, but instead look worn down as if Greirat was using this one specific pathway for a while now. You follow them and notice it breaks into a self-made path into a section of wood.

The pathway he made seems relatively safe as you travel through. If you need to find him, then you presume you’ll find him near here or farther, at least you hope. Birds sing and crickets chirp as you walk by. The path is rather nice, some flowers away in the warm breeze and trees rustle.

Your peace is disturbed as you hear an all too familiar yell of pain. Adrenaline shoots into your system as you rush into the brush in the direction you heard it. “Greirat? Greirat!” You yell out as twigs snag and hit your skin in your haste. The sound of a scuffle and his angry voice ring in your ears.

Breaking out into an open field, you spot him. Greirat and his assailant, a bandit. He struggles with him as they roll around on the ground, attempting to stab one another but barely missing. Greirat and the bandit seem to be too preoccupied in fighting.

Rushing up, you tackle the bandit who lets out a yell of surprise. You don’t give the bandit much time to breathe as you begin to punch his face over and over again, causing your knuckles to begin bleeding but it was well worth it.

The bandit takes a few bludgeons to the face before he manages to shove you off and onto the dirt as you both begin to wrestle. In the corner of your eye you see the familiar grey-blue of Greirat's thrall hood disappearing into the brush.

You're glad Greirats safe but feel a tinge of betrayal. You saved him but he doesn’t seem to want to repay that favour in a way that truly matters. The bandit clocks you upside the jaw, making you focus your attention back on him.

You manage to roll the bandit onto his back and hold him down with your hands clenching around his throat. Sweat begins to form on your forehead as your arms struggle to keep the assault as the bandit struggles wildly.

A small moment of weakness is enough for the bandit to knock you off again and onto your back instead. Before you know it, the bandit had taken your dagger strapped to your thigh and raised it above you.

Closing your eyes, you await the cold bite of a dagger through your neck or face but just as the bandit brings it down. You hear a choking sound and something warm spray onto your face and chest. It smells like a metallic and a horribly familiar scent.

Your eyes shoot open to find the bandit, clutching his neck as he gurgles disgustingly as blood mixes with his froth and spurts from his mouth. Blood seeps through the gaps of his fingers before eventually spraying out like a fountain. His neck had been slashed.

When he hunches over, falling sideways and off of you. You see Greirat, standing just above the bandit with a dagger, coated in blood clenched in his hands.

Scrambling up from the ground, you look at your hands. Now more red then (skin colour) and you feel your face, finding the wet and warm feeling of blood coating it. Your chest wasn't granted mercy as the majority of your top was drenched in blood. All of the blood would be hard to get out and leave a horrible stain.

Looking at Greirat, you realise something. He’s repaid another debt, by saving your life just as you saved his only minutes ago. “Yo-you helped me.” You say, your breath husky as your heart slowly calms from its rapid beating.

“We are both safe and sound, thank the gods for that.” He murmurs as he sees you get up. For a moment he feared he was too late due to the coat of blood on you. At first he thought it was yours. His face heats up beneath his thrall hood as you approach him.

“W-well I couldn’t leave you like that.” He stutters as his courage wanes. “I may be a thief, but I’m not a bastard.” He remembers back to the man he saved from Irithyll dungeon, a bald man using a spear as a weapon. Now, he’s saved two people.

You smile at him, which shocks him. “Thank you, Greirat. I suppose we’re even in debt now?” You lightly laugh as you pat his shoulder.

“I suppose we are.” His shoulder feels like it burns with your touch as he tries to maintain his composure. “Anyway… what are you doing here?” He knows you practically never leave Lothric Castle, you’ve told him this before that you only leave for emergencies and going down to the Undead Settlement. He notices no bag on your back, so you're not going to the Settlement.

You jump. You know why you came here, you were concerned for Greirat. You don’t know why but suddenly you feel embarrassed as you avert your gaze and clench your hands. “I uh… came down to…” you mumble the last part far too low for Greirat to hear.

“What was that?” He asks, shuffling a bit closer to you to hear you better. Seeing your shy demeanour shine through your tough shell surprises him.

“I came to check on you.” You say quickly. “You we’re just taking too long, that’s why. I didn’t want to wait all day for the bag so I was going to grab it from you.” You lie through your teeth.

“Well you came at a good time.” He says and reaches down into some bushes, pulling out the bag from its hiding spot. He hid it when the bandit confronted him and thank the gods it was undamaged. He offers the bag to you.

The bag is small, he knows that and you know that. Normally you wouldn’t accept such a small bag and he expected to hear you telling him to get more items but when the weight of the bag is lifted from his grip, he’s surprised. You’re full of surprises today.

“It’s small, but it’ll do.” You huff and clip it to the belt around your waist. Your bloody knuckles graze against the leather and you flinch. The pain makes you remember, both of you are hurt.

Huffing again, you look at Greirat. “Let’s go.” You grab on his arm and practically begin to drag him as he struggles to keep up.

“What? Where are we going?” He says, still struggling to keep up with your long strides.

“To Lothric Castle, we need to heal. I don’t want my supplier to be slowed down by wounds.” You say. It’s the truth, mostly. You do want Greirat to be healed so he isn’t slowed but you also want him to be healed, just for the sake of his being.

“Oh, al-alright.” He sounds a little uncertain at first but he remains silent the entire way back to Lothric Castle. Of course, you holding onto him had him practically being dragged through the air as you used the beams and scaffolding as much as you could.

“Woah!” He yells out as you hop up higher, holding onto his arm as he dangles. Anxiety of being dropped peaks as you just get higher and higher into the castle.

He meets solid ground as you set him down and he feels relief wash over him. He looks around where you set him down. It looks like a little home, some blankets strewn around and propped up to block the cold and act as natural disguise. A few lanterns lit up and placed to where they wouldn’t burn anything and a nest of pillows in the middle. It comes to him, this is your ‘home’ in a way.

You walk around and set up some lanterns which have blown out in your absence. The warmth and light are welcomed as your corner is a little dark and is only getting darker as the sun sets. Digging in a bag in the corner, you pull out some bandages and walk over to Greirat.

You remain silent and Greirat remains still as you find little bruises and cuts on him, wrapping them in bandages. You’ve gotten better at wrapping since the first month you met him as you tighten the bandages to stop any bleeding.

He doesn’t have many injuries so your job is short. “There, all fixed.” You say absentmindedly as you pat his shoulder. Without another word, you turn your back and to his surprise begin to undress.

Greirat immediately turns and covers his eyes, a childish action but he doesn’t want to intrude. Maybe he shouldn’t be here for whatever you're doing as he tries to scoot away stealthily.

“Where are you going?”

Your voice spooks him and he struggles to answer. “Well… y-you need privacy.” He waits for your answer but only hears a bark of a laugh.

“Ha! Greirat it’s fine, I’m only bandaging my wounds. I needed to take off a few things to get to some more hidden ones.” You explain as you're fully undressed down to your panties and bra. You're not shy at all, much to your own surprise. Maybe it’s because you're essentially in your own room.

A little idea forms in your head as heat rises to your cheeks. On your back, there is a bad bruise and cut that you can’t exactly reach to tie some bandages around it. Maybe Greirat can help. Reaching out, you tap his shoulder to make him turn around.

Greirat turns and is met with a sight that he can only describe as ethereal. His eyes land on your bare skin at first and then your bra. Due to you being slightly hunched over, he can see into your bra and between your breasts. He immediately jumps as it feels like his face will erupt as his heart pounds.

“Could you help me?” You ask him, keeping eye contact. The little holes in his thrall hood allow you to see his eyes and their wide which causes you to laugh a little bit. “It’s alright Greirat, I don’t mind you seeing me like this.”

He seems too stunned to speak but you perk up again. “Great! I’m glad for your help!” You take his stunned silence as acceptance as you hand him the bandages. “You see, there’s a spot on my back I can’t reach.” You turn around to show him. “Could you get it for me?”

His trembling hands unravel the bandages as you wait for him. To him, this feels far too unreal, like he’s been knocked out by that bandit and all of this was a dream. One that he wouldn’t mind continuing, if only he could stop being so nervous.

The feeling of your bare skin on his hands makes him shiver. His hands wrap around your body to begin wrapping the bandages. He nearly touches your breasts as he pulls his hands around. His breath hitches as he waits for you to possibly get mad at him but you remain still and silent, maybe you didn’t notice.

The clasp on your bra is far too enticing as he stares at it and his hands have a mind of their own as he slips his finger underneath the strap of your bra. He wasn’t thinking in the moment when his hands fumble to unclasp your bra and it falls to the ground, freeing your breasts.

He still didn’t think when his hands trail where your bra once was before reaching around and cupping your breasts in his hands, giving them a small squeeze.

“Getting bold?” You tease him and it snaps him out of his dazed state as he immediately takes his hands off of your breasts.

“I’m sorry!” He immediately blurts out, expecting you to be mad at him yet again. But when you turn around and get close to him, your chest pressing against his.

“Don’t be, Infact.” You grab his hand to place it back onto your breast. “Keep going and we’ll see where this leads.”

His breath becomes heated and small beads of sweat form on his forehead as his pants begin to feel that all too familiar tightness. His erection tents in his pants as it begs to be freed and he feels that rush run through his body.

Both of his reach to fondle your breasts, teasing your hardened nipples. His attentions make you bite your lip to stifle little moans from your sensitive buds. Wetness pools onto your panties and you reach down, sliding them off quickly. Now you're completely bare in front of him.

Putting your hand onto his crotch, you tease his erection in his pants and he lets out a stuttering, strained groan and his hips twitch and buck. It seems he’s very sensitive, even through the layers of cloth. You made a mental note to abuse this sensitivity.

“I shouldn’t be the only one naked.” Your voice is husky and hushed as you whisper into his ear. “It isn’t fair, don’t you think?” Even as thieves, some fairness would be appreciated in the moment.

“Y-Yeah…” is all he says in his haze of delight. His hands move from fondling you to pulling down his pants and eventually his boxers, finally freeing himself and you can get a good look at him.

He’s average size and has little veins spread across his cock. His foreskin pulls back to reveal his tip, light pink with a dusting of light purple at the very top. He has some hair but he’s nicely groomed, which you appreciate.

His naked body is lean and skinny, clearly a bit smaller and lighter than you. No wonder he was so easy to drag up and around the beams. But this didn’t put you off as you trace your hand up the length of his cock.

You hear his breath hitch underneath his thrall hood, which he refused to take off but you decide not to pry. Some people just hate having their face seen and that’s none of your business.

Moving up closer to him, your entire body is nearly pressed up against him and his arms wrap around you to pull you in as far as he can. You let out a surprised gasp as he takes the initiative as his hand snakes down to play with your pussy.

Your slick coats his hand nicely as he traces his fingers across and eventually dip two fingers inside and curl them. Your back arches as he presses against your most sensitive spot and he knows this and begins to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, occasionally curling them.

His fingers feel so good inside you. They slide in with no resistance and no pain due to how aroused you are, it feels as if you're practically dripping with wetness. He inserts another finger as you moan and quiver.

He seems to be quite skilled in this, much to your delight and surprise. The three of his fingers feel around inside you before curling in and pressing onto your aching g-spot. Your legs clench as you feel the little knot begin to tie itself.

How did he already get you to this point? The question rings in your mind as you lay against him and allow his fingers to have their way. His free hand trails up your sides to cup your breast, adding onto your pleasure.

Huffing, you speak. “You’re…hah.. quite good at this.” You have to take a shaky breath in between your sentence as your face burns and sweat slowly forms. In response to your words, his fingers begin to thrust into you faster now as you let out a surprised moan of delight.

Your lower body feels like fuzz as you quiver more and more with each passing second of his fervent fingering. The knot gets tighter and before you know it, you throw your head back and let out a cry of pleasure as you clench around his fingers.

He keeps his fingers in as you ride out your orgasm, coating his hand in your lovely fluids. He’s had experience with women like this before in his past, when his name was well known. By the gods he needed this, it’s been far too long. Just seeing your strong demeanour crumble as he pushes you to orgasm makes him so achingly hard.

Pulling yourself up, his fingers slide out of you easily. You take a few deep breaths before backing up a little bit. “I s…suppose I shouldn’t be the only one like this.” Your courage returns in a lustful haze as you get down low and put your head between his legs, your hands on his thighs to keep them spread apart.

Greirat watches in anticipation as his cock twitches, needing the attention immediately. His muscles tense as he feels you take him into your mouth and tease his tip with your tongue for a few moments. He lets out a whimpery groan of neediness as you do so, needing much more than a simple tease.

You notice his little whine and decide to indulge him as you take more of him into your mouth. His taste is the slightest bit salty and the scent of musk hits your nose when you get further down. You feel his legs twitch and even slightly kick as you finally take all of him into your mouth.

Wrapping your tongue around his length makes him groan again and shudder when you begin to go up and down in long strides. Your tongue works wonders as it slides up and down his cock along with your soft lips and velvety mouth aiding in his pleasure.

Drool begins to pool in your mouth as it dribbles down your chin and coats his cock. Your drool only adds to how easy he was to take into your mouth, acting like an impromptu lube. You take him out of your mouth with a small ‘pop’ to get some air.

You can already see his cock twitching and little dribbles of pre-cum beginning to spill from his tip. You smile at him before taking him into your mouth again and he bucks into your mouth, his cock nearly sliding down your throat. Luckily, you don’t have much of a gag reflex.

His hand grips onto your hair as you can hear him groan through gritted teeth, ‘heavens..’ and his breathing becomes even more heavy. Before finally, he lets out a loud groan and his muscles clench as he cums into your mouth.

As he finishes, you take your mouth off, your mouth still full with his cum and you swallow with ease. You can see Greirat in the corner of your eye looking a little shocked but then see his cock twitch again, clearly still excited and wanting more as more arousal floods his system.

Before you know it, your back is on the floor and your legs are spread open by his hands. You reach down to spread your pussy for his gaze, using two fingers to do so. Small drops of your fluid run down your thigh, becoming ever so enticing to Greirat.

His hands plant themselves next to your head as he leans over you and his cock presses against you. You can hear him breathe heavily as he reaches down to hold onto his cock and position himself against your entrance.

Your legs wrap impatiently around him as he pushes inside of you. You let out a husky huff as you feel him enter, offering a nice stretch. You hadn’t had sex in what feels, and is probably, years that you forgot how great it feels.

Greirat trembles above you as he enters so easily. Pleasure sparks up his body with how wet you are and how he fits so snuggly inside of you. His hand moves back next to your head to balance himself and not fall onto you.

He slowly sinks further into you, letting out small whimpers as he does so. He’s so sensitive that every movement he or you makes, sends a flare of mind numbing pleasure through him. He finally sinks himself all the way into you and keeps himself steady for a few moments before slowly moving back and forth.

You put your hands around his chest and pull him down to press his chest against yours. Your skin feels so warm against his own and your hot breath breathing into his ear sends shivers down his back. Your hand traces his spine as you whisper into his ear. “Go faster.”

Abiding by your command, he speeds up his thrusts. A dull slap occurs every time he thrusts in and his breathing becomes more laboured. You can see how his hands tremble and sweat shines on his skin. It looks as if he’s already close to orgasm.

Your legs wrap firmly around him as his thrusts become sloppy and he lets out a shuddering groan and cums. The warmth inside you feels strange but it’s welcome. He stops his thrusting as he comes down from his high and slides out from you, still half-hard.

Disappointment etched into you. You didn’t get to orgasm and he didn’t last long which you presume was due to his previous orgasm only minutes ago. Sitting up, you see him still partially hard and you shrug, that’s good enough for you.

Before he could really react, you pushed him onto his back and now you are the one on top of him. He jumps a bit at your sudden action. You lean down and whisper into his ear again, sending more shivers down his back. “I’m not done yet.”

Looking down, you immediately see him get fully hard again and twitch. You smile at him. “Hmm, I took you for the type to like this.” You say, referring to you practically dominating him.

Positioning yourself, you sink all of his length into you and moan as you feel it hit your g-spot. He shudders as you plant yourself down onto him and his hands hold onto your waist. His chest moves up and down as he tries to keep himself composed to last longer.

You pull yourself up and down slowly at first, feeling the little flashes of pleasure every time you go down and his cock brushing against your g-spot. Every time you went down you could hear him whimper under his breath and goosebumps ride up his body.

Putting your hands onto his chest to balance yourself, you go faster. It’s a little hard to keep a consistent pace with how exhausting riding him was but your lusting mind didn’t care, it only craved pleasure. You see his hands clench into fists and he thrusts up, letting free a cry of pleasure as he orgasms again.

His cum trickles down your thighs due to gravity and drips onto him. But you're still not done as you continue to chase your own pleasure, which is slowly adding up. The combined fluids of your wetness and his cum create a slick combination, making it far too easy for you to ride.

“I thought you would last longer.” You tease and he looks away in embarrassment. “Not to worry though, think of this as your training.” You smile and pick up your pace, a slick lewd sound squelching out as you do so.

His breath hitches as he begins to feel overstimulated but you keep him firmly planted down. He never knew he’d like this so much, of course he thought of it but by the gods were you giving him a run for his money.

The slickness causes him to slip out a few times but you quickly fix that every time it happens. You feel that tiny knot tie itself in your lower stomach as you continue to ride Greirat to your heart's content. His cock hitting against your g-spot with every moment you went down.

Your muscles are getting tired keeping yourself propped up and going up and down for so long. Sweat falls down your body and glistens in the light of the lanterns. Greirat arches his back as he groans and cums again.

By now, Greirat can hardly think and only act on his mushy mind. All he knows is that he can hardly handle anymore as he drools and little pin pricks of overstimulated tears hit his eyes. “(N-Name) slow down.. I can’t keep up.” He nearly begs.

Arousal shoots through you as he begs and this only causes you to go faster, which is only by a little with your exhausting form but it’s enough to overstimulate Greirat again. “Looks like you’ll just have to try.” You huff out, your breath heavy and unbearably hot. “Because I’m n-not stopping until I’m satisfied.”

The knot in your lower stomach ties itself tighter as your muscles clench around him, making Greirat practically cry with pleasure. You love watching as he crumbles in front of you and his chest going up and down rapidly. The familiar hicks of a cry reach your ears, but you know it’s not one of sadness but of pleasure.

“You can handle a few more minutes? Ca..can’t you?” You ask and he can hardly answer but you take it as a yes. His cock feels so good inside of you as your aching muscles struggle to keep up the pace of your riding and occasionally twitch, making Greirat groan.

Your breath is heavy as your actions become sloppy and inconsistent. “Shit…” you mutter under your breath, feeling your approaching orgasm. But it’s fleeting as you struggle to keep the mounting pleasure and you become desperate to achieve your peak.

A burst of energy runs through you as you use it to go faster, making Greirat cum again. He feels practically drained by now. The intervals are much smaller now and you don’t lift yourself as far up to keep his cock in the right place, brushing against your sensitive flesh.

The knot feels as if it’s about to burst and with a cry, you arch your back and throw your head back. Your muscles clench onto his cock as your entire body quivers with the intense orgasm riding through you. Goosebumps riddle your sticky, shiny skin as your hair stands on end from the waves of pleasure.

More warmth shoots into you as Greirat cums for the final time. It’s far too much for him as he lets himself practically flop to the ground. You slowly lift yourself to let his cock slide out and it does so, with another lead ‘pop’. It’s completely flaccid and drained now and you chuckle, you really put him to work.

Crawling off of him, your muscles ache and your combined fluids practically waterfall down your legs and onto the ground below. Luckily your ‘bed’ which was a nest of pillows with a single blanket was left unsullied. You wobbly stand up to dig into your personal bag you left in the corner.

You pull out a cloth and clean up between your legs. The sweat doesn’t really bother you, you can wash it off once you get your rest. You just didn’t want to get your bed dirty with seminal fluid. It could stain it and you wouldn’t want that.

You look over at Greirat who is promptly passed out. You walk over and lift him quite easily to lay him on your bed. The pillows are many and are large enough to hold two people comfortably and you don’t mind sharing your bed.

Laying down beside you, you get yourself comfortable as the exhaustion quickly grabs hold of you and your eyelids become far too heavy to keep open. You let them fall and let sleep take you to rest.

Your last thought runs through your mind before you fully sleep. You’ll definitely be doing this with Greirat again, perhaps as a reward if he gets you good items and some embers. With that, you fall asleep into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter Text

Content: Request! .Hitting Cervix. Pain. Standing sex. Slight masochism. A bit rushed :(y

You pull Torrent to a stop as you approach a nearby cliff, sending rocks tumbling down. Torrent breathes heavily as your heart beats and you look around frantically, searching for anywhere to jump up or escape.

The moon-lit night doesn’t help as it only makes it harder to see your pursuer and the fact that the night calls them out. They always seem to come at the worst possible time. You're already hurt and all your flasks have been used up and you only wish to sleep through this night.

Pain seers through the side of your stomach where the glaive of the pursuing Nights Calvary had struck you. It got you pretty good as the gash was deep and blood was staining your entire right side, down your legs and onto Torrents saddle.

Dizziness washes over you in waves as you groan in pain and let out a hiss. The loss of blood was starting to get to you. The world spins as your head pounds and tries its hardest to correct your vision doubling itself and your shaking limbs making it hard to stay atop of Torrent. You need to do something, and fast.

But your options are so limited. Not only are you badly hurt but Torrent is too. The giant horse that the Night Calvary rode upon had caught up to you once and bit Torrent’s hindquarters, leaving a nasty bite wound. Torrent almost senses your thoughts and lets out a whinny, stomping his hooves around anxiously.

“I know, Torrent.” You whisper, afraid that the Nights Cavalry would hear you. You aren’t even sure if you escaped your pursuer yet but you don’t want to risk being found if you were too loud. “We just need to stay low for a little longer.”

Torrent stays still and his ears move around, straining to hear for any noise. You intently watch Torrents reaction, knowing that his hearing is way better than yours and would be able to hear the Cavalry before they got close.

The chirping of insects and the hooting and hollering of owls and nocturnal birds go completely silent. Nothing is to be heard but the rushing beat of your heart and rustle of leaves in the wind of the dark forest. The wind is particularly loud where you stand on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. You hope it doesn’t compromise anything.

You pat Torrents neck uneasily as he continues to wait and look for any sounds. The darkness of night is suffocating as you wait for anything to happen. Wait for the Calvary to come charging from the brush and knock you and Torrent off the cliff. Wind whistles through again, rustling the leaves.

Torrents ears stop moving and lay flat on his head, nervous and scared. This was the very few times you ever saw Torrent so terrified, usually Torrent barely reacted to anything. Torrent never even reacted to riding past Agheel, a dragon. Perhaps it was the presence of another equine that set him off.

The gentle crashing of the waves sound in your ears. It feels like you can hear everything but not the thing you wish to hear. Standing still for a few more moments you have the gall to let out a small sigh of relief and you physically feel your chest sink in.

“Alright, Torrent. I think it’s go-“ your immediately interrupted by a loud whinny and the sound of crashing hooves, breaking twigs and rustling brush. Only seconds afterward, the pursuing Nights Cavalry rushes out and towards you, his glaive poised to space.

Your heart jumps to your throat as you hardly have time to react. By instinct your legs kick the side of Torrent and he immediately bolts, rushing into thick twistings of vines and twigs. The twigs smack and rip at your skin, adding to your injuries. The Nights Cavalry isn’t far behind.

You're beyond confused and scared. The blood loss is taking more toll on your already exhausted body and your lefts feel like rights and the world is spinning, blending together. Your hands waiver on the hold of Torrents reins with how weak you're getting.

‘I’m going to die, I’m going to die’ your mind reels In terror. You hear the unnatural heavy breathing of the Nights Cavalry’s horse behind you and to your horror you see in the corner of your eye, it opens its mouth filled with sharp teeth and attempts to bite Torrent.

With perhaps a bit too much force, you pull Torrents reins to the left and make him do a sharp turn. You hear the snap of jaws just miss Torrents flank as you do so. The Nights Cavalry can’t make such sharp turns as they skidd on the ground for a few moments, kicking up dirt before returning to the chase.

You look back and see them still following. ‘Shit’ you curse under your breath. Turning back to face forward a thread of hope weaves itself into your heart. In the distance you can clearly spot an opening in the tangles and a field beyond it.

Torrent huffs, becoming exhausted with how hard he’s straining himself. You notice Torrents distress immediately and pat his neck. “We need to keep going, just a little bit longer.” Your words are nearly lost in the rushing wind but you hope Torrent hears them, even if you think he doesn’t understand them.

You clutch your bleeding side and let out a silent prayer, hoping you’ll make it just in time. The opening gets closer and closer but the thudding of heavy hooves behind you also does, the Nights Cavalry gains on you.

The glint of the glaive, still covered in your fresh blood makes you look back once last time to see the Cavalry with the blade raised above his head before bringing it down. You scrunch your eyes and time seems to slow down as you give Torrent a final kick for a boost in speed.

You burst through the opening and out into the field, the blade had just missed you by a hair. But the chase isn’t over yet as the Cavalry follows and you can tell that he is becoming impatient.

You didn’t come to the field just to get to an open area, no, you came here for the massive gorge separating the two plates of land. You had jumped over it with Torrents special ability to jump twice a few times before. It was a tight jump but it would be your saviour because you know that the Cavalry couldn’t wish to get over, or so you hoped.

Torrent begins to slow as exhaustion plagues him but you keep him running as hard as he can. You’ll make sure to give him lots of pets and treats after this, as an apology. The approaching chasm gets closer and you take a deep breath as the world slows again.

You can hardly think as your mind goes into tunnel vision, only thinking to jump. The time closes in and eventually arrives as you command Torrent to jump and he does so. The wind whips through your hair and your heart feels like it’s sinking into your stomach as you let yourself and Torrent fall for just a few seconds.

The familiar feeling of hopping onto solid ground and jumping again hit you. The other side of the gorge coming so close as Torrent begins to fall from his jump. Sweat beats down your skin and terror strikes as Torrents hoof slips trying to get onto the ground.

Before you know it, you're thrown from Torrents saddle and slide onto the grass. You’re dazed for a moment before shooting up to see Torrent sliding towards you, he made it but stuck a rough landing. Relief floods your veins from the near miss and you crawl up to Torrent. “We’re alive, we’re alive.”

The angered winnie from across the gorge alerts you to the pursuing Cavalry. His mount paces back and forth anxiously, kicking a few rocks down to a, what you can only presume, hundreds of foot drop. You were right, they can’t cross.

The mounted Cavalry stared at you from across the clearing, even if you can’t see his expression you can tell he is pissed. His prey got away, just as he was about to get it. You let out a small snicker and flip him off.

Torrent lets out a snort as he slowly gets up, luckily not Injured. You also get up on wobbly legs and mount Torrent again, having minor trouble with the adrenaline flooding your veins. You nearly forgot about the gash on your side but the sting of pain reminds you. All you need to do now, is find a site of grace and rest.

Taking Torrents reins, you lightly kick on his side to get him to start walking. You remember this area and know there’s a site of grace nearby as you head to it. You turn back and look at the Nights Cavalry as you walk away with Torrent.

The Cavalry intently watches, clutching the glaive soaked in your blood. His mount stays frighteningly still, sensing the riders visceral rage as he watches you slowly disappear. No matter, he’ll find a way over or he’ll just find you again sometime in the night.

He’s never felt this type of anger before, you slipped from his hold at the last possible second and taunted him. Taking the glaive, he inspects the soaked blade and touches the blood. He’s got your scent and he won’t give up anytime soon.

He turns his mount around and rides into the tree line, hiding from the rising sun peaking over the horizon. Though this night's hunt failed, he has many more nights to chase you down.

Little did you know, this very night, you got your most persistent nemesis.

——————

The site of grace glimmers in front of you as you sit by it, resting on Torrent. The wound on your side had instantly closed the moment you sat down but it seemed that the gash was so deep that it left a visible scar despite the graces' healing properties. It’s a clean cut, so it doesn’t really bother you. Your armour covers it anyway.

Torrent's bite mark scarred him too, leaving a bald spot in his fur. You keep your back resting on his stomach as Torrent munches on the apple you gave him, as an apology for straining him so hard. His fur is rather comfortable and warm, a nice blanket in these horrid lands.

It’s been a few days by now since your encounter with that determined Nights Cavalry and he certainly hasn’t let up. You now dread the night and a pit forms in your stomach anytime you see the sun setting, just as it is now.

The sunlight was your shield against him as he never appeared out in the day, you wondered why but piled it into camouflage and stealth. That horse he rides does make a lot of noise and is very noticeable.

Shaking your head, you focus back on your train of thought. That Nights Cavalry was out for your head it seems, as he never gave up the chase, not even for one night. It was every night he would find you and chase you to the ends of the earth or you would find a way to slip out of his grasp by jumping up a ledge or hiding.

You distinctly remember the oxidising blood on his glaive, turning from red to a brown. He didn’t even have the care to wash off your old blood but it was probably an intimidation tactic. His chasing was beginning to annoy you by now as all you wanted was a good night's rest.

Now, you practically wait for the familiar thumping of hooves so you could shoot up and ride away on Torrent. So far, nothing has happened and that sets you off a bit but sometimes he’s late on your daily chases.

Torrents ears flick up and you turn your attention to it. “Hear him?” You ask, knowing Torrent can’t provide an answer. Almost like he could understand you, Torrent moves his head side to side as a way of saying ‘no’.

“Then what do you hear?” You start to get concerned and stand up. That’s when you hear it yourself, thumping of hooves. But not heavy ones like the Cavalry but small ones and an accommodating pair of footsteps. It almost sounds like what’s making the noise has something clattering around in a bag.

You grip onto your weapon as you stare into the dark forest, the sound only getting closer and closer until your resolve breaks. You hop up onto Torrent to charge the intruder. You’ll get the jump on them before they can get the jump on you.

Torrent charges but then rears up and stomps down onto the ground as the intruder finally comes into view. A terrified nomadic merchant and his pitifully skinny donkey, carrying supplies on its back. You lower your weapon in confusion as Torrent relaxes.

“Oh..” you feel almost disappointed and a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that.” You smile down at the merchant and apologise as you put your weapon away. “I thought you were something else.”

The Merchant, rightfully rattled, takes a moment to speak. “It-it’s no issue, I should have made myself known.” He awkwardly laughs and clears his throat. “N-Now that you’re here, you wouldn’t mind entertaining a trade?”

As always, the nomadic merchants want to trade something. You’re not surprised by this but instead you're surprised at the nomadic merchant, actually being nomadic. Usually you’d find them in little makeshift camps and they never left, as far as you knew.

“Well, what do you have?” You dismount Torrent and approach the merchant, already reaching for a pouch full of runes.

The merchant makes a ‘wait’ gesture before he quickly digs into the many bags stacked onto the donkey's bag. The times clink and shift around before he has all what he wants and lays them out on the ground for you to take a look at.

You crouch down and look over them. Majority of the items are of no use to you, arrows, crafting materials, useless smithing stones, pots and other bits and bobs. The selection isn’t very appealing until your eyes land on something you’ve never seen before.

It appears to be a bundle of sticks, specifically five, wrapped in a small rope to keep them together. They aren’t normal sticks at all as you examine them. Small petals bloom from their ends and green roots wrap around the stick. But the most strange thing about them was the faint twisting tendrils of light red smoke wafting off of them.

“Ah, those.” The merchant begins, crouching down to keep eye contact with you. “They are bewitching branches.” He says, as if you know what those even are. “Eight thousand for all of them.”

“And?… what do they do?” You ask and inwardly wince at the price, hoping they will be with it.

“Well, simply stab an enemy and they will become your ally.” He explains. “Are you going to buy it or not?”

A small tinge of anger flashes in your head at his impatience but you ignore it. The branches seem like very useful tools for you. Enemies fighting for you instead of enemies fighting you. You decide on a whim, you’ll buy it.

“Yeah, I’ll buy it.” You reach into your pouch and pull out the accommodating amount of runes and offer it to the merchant, who happily takes it from your hands.

“Pleasure doing business.” The merchant says and gives you the wad of branches. “I have to get going now, I hope to see you again.” He says and grabs the reins of the scrawny donkey, beginning to lead it away.

You watch for a few moments before turning around and motioning for Torrent to follow. The sight of grace comes back into sight and you sit down beside it. You’ve practically forgotten entirely about the Nights Cavalry, it’s slipped your mind.

Torrent lays down and you use him as a practical pillow, laying on his soft fur. The night is still young and that means, you might get a full eight hours of sleep. Your eyelids become heavy and you let out a hefty sigh, feeling your chest lower.

Yawning tiredly, you get comfortable and fall asleep. Completely unaware of the approaching danger.

——————

Birds chirp and sing as you slowly awaken. Stretching out, you crack your arms and back and awaken Torrent with your movement. He snorts lightly and looks around before you feel him stiffen up.

“What is it now?” You groggily ask and blink away the blurriness of your tired eyes. So far, nothing seems to be amiss as you stand up and look around. It all looks to be perfectly normal, nothing was stolen, there’s no injuries on you or Torrent.

Torrent sniffs the ground as he stands up and you look down to see what he’s seeing. Giant hoof prints, imprinted deeply into the ground, surround the area you and Torrent slept. The Nights Cavalry had paid you a visit.

Your heart clenches in fear, how could you put your guard down just like that? You and Torrent could of died because of your stupid mistake… but you didn’t. You were vulnerable, completely asleep and no armour on, but you were alive to see the day.

Confusion floods into your mind, why did the Nights Cavalry not take the chance? It looked to you that he, instead, had just paid you a visit. And to your knowledge of his following habits, he’s not very far.

“We need to leave.” You say hastily to Torrent and hop onto his back. “It’s not safe here.” You lightly kick Torrents side to get him walking and he doesn’t protest in any way, being as equally as nervous as you.

You look around the forested area, now lit up by the sun and teaming with life. Despite the light of the day, you can’t help but feel scared that the Cavalry will jump out and give chase. But the passing minutes as you and Torrent walk through the forest are peaceful.

The forest is beautiful, not at all matching what you are feeling. Butterflies fly around, squirrels run up trees and birds sing lively. The noises almost overwhelm you but another noise interrupts every other one.

Everything goes silent. The small animals have gone into hiding in a matter of seconds and the singing stops. The gentle swaying and rustling of brush completely stops and Torrents ears falls back to his head.

“Just keep walking, Torrent.” You whisper and Torrent lets out a huff. Familiar anxiety ripples through you and the feeling of eyes burning on your back. You are trying to call his ‘bluff’ that he won’t come out in the broad daylight.

Torrent keeps walking to your command. You want to run but you don’t want to show your fear, it could set off Torrent. You don’t want Torrent to know that you saw the black cloth of the Nights Cavalry in the corner of your eye.

“We’re almost out of the woods.” You say, comforting Torrent. The woods open up into a large, open field and you and Torrent step out of the woods to the sunny grass field.

Just as you thought you were safe, it seemed the Nights Cavalry had enough of stalking. Loud hoof steps set Torrent off and he rears up, whinnying loudly. You gasp and attempt to grab onto his reins but miss and fall off of Torrent, landing on your back.

“Torrent!” You yell out and reach for the horse but he’s already running off. You didn’t realise just how terrified Torrent was of the Cavalry that he would abandon you like that. But you didn’t have time to ruminate on his betrayal.

The Nights Cavalry bursts through the brush and nearly crushes you but you manage to manoeuvre out of the way just in time. Scrambling to get up, you watch as the Cavalry takes a wide berth to turn to face you again.

The Cavalry lifts up his glaive, showing off the oxidized blood before pointing it to you.

You reach for your weapon and prepare to fight. The Cavalry charges suddenly and you dodge out the way, the glaive nicking your leg. Your smaller stature and better turning allowing you to keep up with the Cavalries attacks.

Your weapon clangs as you hold it up to guard against the glaive. Your strength is equal as you both struggle to overpower one another just for a few seconds. You suddenly let go of all your weight and aim for his mount instead.

Sinking a blade into the horses hide, it lets out a pained, unnatural screech and kicks. The Cavalry struggles to stay on as his mount freaks out, trying to get the blade stuck in its shoulder out.

The horse nearly stomps on you multiple times as it kicks and rears. You manage to get out the way and watch as the madness unfolds. For a few more moments the blade remains sunk into its shoulder before it flies out, thumping on the grass.

‘Shit…’ your mind rushes to find a new solution to your problem. There’s not much time to think as the Cavalry starts to get his barings. Your mind suddenly clicks as you remember, the bewitching branches.

Reaching onto your belt, you take out the single branch and just in time as the Cavalry charges again. You shield your face as you blindly swing the branch and you feel it hit something. All the sounds of the battle suddenly stop.

Loud breathing blows into your ears and you slowly open your eyes. The cloaked face of the Cavalry’s mount breathes directly onto your face and the mounted Cavalry stares down at you, the glaive once held above his head slowly lowering.

You stare up in shock for a few seconds before making small movements to scooch out of the way and stand back up. The Nights Cavalry doesn’t make a move to attack but simply watches you.

‘Did it work?’ You mutter under your breath and take a step closer. You notice something off about him, other than his strange friendliness, there’s a light red smoke emminating off of him. The bewitching branches worked.

Deciding to test it out, you make a simple command. “Dismount your horse.” The command is immediately abided and the Cavalry slides off of his horse and stands in front of you. “Drop your weapon.” He does so and the glaive drops to the ground.

“Wow..” you mutter to yourself and decide to get a better look at the man. Circling around him, you look at his armour and dark cloth draped around him, perfectly adapted to blend in with the darkness of night.

He stays perfectly still as you do so, neither him or his mount offer any aggression. You’re practically ecstatic at your newfound ally, he’ll be perfect to aid you. But now, you need to get back to Torrent. Even though you have his whistle, sometimes it just doesn’t work properly if Torrent is too far away.

You walk over to his mount and attempt to jump up but miserably failing to even lift yourself up. You try again and again as the Cavalry watches. You let out a surprised gasp as you feel large hands grasp onto your ass and shove you up.

Before you can turn around, you feel the large presence of the Calvary mount on behind you and see his arms reach around to grab the mounts reins. You clear your throat and try not to think of it and bark out another command. “Take me to Torrent.”

He immediately sets off, and you jump in fright as the speed surprises you. Your back presses against the Cavarly’s chest as the mount rides on and wind rushes past both of you. In mere minutes, you see the form of Torrent, grazing on some grass.

“Over there!” You point out and the Calvary immediately makes a sharp turn to Torrent. With how loud the Calvary is and the stark black contrasting against the light, Torrent immediately notices and frightens again.

Without you, Torrent doesn’t exactly have as much skills as he would normally. He doesn’t zig zag or attempt to make sudden turns but only runs in a straight line. You and the Cavarly start to gain on him easily.

The Cavarly’s mount rushes in front of Torrent and forces him to stop. Torrent practically falls onto his back as the Calvary mount rears and stomps down, nearly stomping onto Torrents tail.

You hop off of the mount and rush to Torrent, who is obviously terrified. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright.” You try to soothe Torrent. “He’s with us now.” Your explanation doesn’t really resonate with Torrent as he manages to stand back up, but doesn’t bolt. Instead, he nuzzles you and walks behind you.

The Nights Cavlary watches as you calm down Torrent and eventually mount him. You steer Torrent to, reluctantly, walk up to the Cavalry, his ears pinned to his head. The Calvary’s mount sniffs Torrent, and Torrent trembles.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” You say, feeling bad for how terrified Torrent is. “Follow us.” You command the Cavalry and take off. He follows you, keeping a few paces behind to not overtake you.

You ride across the open field with the Cavalry in tow. So far, no other enemies have spotted you or him. Or maybe, they are just to intimidated to even try and give chase. This bewitching branch thing is really paying off.

For the rest of the day, the Cavalry follows.

——————

He’s been with you for the past few weeks now, always at your side and answering every beck and call to perfection. You’re quite grateful for his help and you’re grateful to the merchant who sold you the branches, they’ve proven far more useful than you’ve first thought.

Now, you rest at a site of grace In the Limgrave wilds. You returned to Limgrave in search of specific materials to craft and they only grew in this region. But they proved to be harder to find then you realised and by then, the moon was climbing the horizon.

The Nights Cavalry lays next to you, sleeping peacefully. Lately, you’ve felt more of a romantic connection to the Cavalry. He’s quite the appealing gentleman when he’s not trying to kill you.

He would always sit next to you whenever you say practically anywhere or lay down next to you any chance he got, like now. Sometimes he would pluck you from Torrents back and place you on his own mount. Torrent would get annoyed by this and stamp angrily, but the Cavalry doesn’t seem to care.

One time, you remember vividly as it only happened a mere week ago, he had defended you from a pack of rabid wolves. They barked and nipped at you for a while before he came storming in and grabbed you, easily throwing you over his shoulder like a prize in a pillage.

Afterwards, he didn’t let you down and when you asked to be, he simply patted your ass and ignored that one command. He didn’t let you go until he brought you back to the little camp you both set up.

Another time, you caught him washing your old blood off of his glaive in a river. He took care to scrub every speck of blood stuck to the blade, it took him some time but he eventually got it all. When he turned around and saw you, he almost looked embarrassed.

All this time travelling with him, his personality had begun shining through. He was a lot more cute then you first thought. A few times he had tripped and played it off but was clearly embarrassed. And his little gifts to you were adorable. It was doing something to you.

You hated to admit but, you were starting to become sexually interested in him. It was only natural, was your justification. You were alone for so long that his attention had set off warmth pooling in your stomach and crotch.

You suppose you won’t tell or ever act on these urges, even if they bother you and distract you whenever your riding with him. It’s hard to ignore and to act normal but your managing, mostly by calming yourself down with some ‘self love.’

A spike of arousal hits you at the thought and you suck in a breath, looking over to the sleeping form of the Calvary. He’s asleep and as far as you know, he’s a heavy sleeper. But you don’t trust yourself as you silently get up and look for a private place.

The woods seem good enough, if you can get far enough away. You silently walk around and make sure to be as quiet as possible as you walk into the forest, flinching at any crunch of leaves.

It only takes you a few minutes to reach a spot you think is far enough and private enough. It feels like your pussy Is burning with arousal and it feels like your clothes are sticking to your hot skin.

You hook your thumbs into your pants and pull them down, you shiver with contact from the cold air and then pull down your panties. Your fingers trace across your pussy, feeling the gathering warmth and wetness.

Gods, it was too much for you, you were already sensitive before and now it feels like your own feathery touch will send you over the edge before you even dipped a finger in. But it was the thought of the Calvary that sent you going.

Remembering how he carried you so easily, like you were air, sends more wetness surging to your pussy. He could manhandle you easily but he hardly ever did, he was considerate and only did so in emergency.

A finger slides inside you and you suck in a moan, wanting to be as quiet as possible. You don’t know what’s out here but you don’t want to be caught in such a vulnerable position. Your finger feels around before you slip another in.

Your breath feels so warm now as you bite down on your free hand. You slowly pump your fingers in and out of your pussy, feeling the wetness coating your hands and dripping down your thighs.

More thoughts of the Cavarly send you further into your lustful haze. Your fingers go faster and a slick noise follows each pump and you add another finger, moaning lightly. The thoughts delve into scenes of him having his way with you.

A cold breeze blows through and sends goosebumps littering your skin, the contrast of your sweaty, sticky skin against the cold feels so strange yet perfect. The breeze masks the sound of approaching, heavy footsteps.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you feel yourself being brought to your familiar brink. You needed this, badly. You were so pent up, you didn’t have the time to pleasure yourself for the past few weeks or you couldn’t find a good enough spot to do it.

You buck your hips into hands, needing more than simply your fingers. You curl them and press against your g-spot, moaning again. But it wasn’t enough as you go faster, reaching deeper and curling them more often.

Closing your eyes, you let out hot huffs of air and struggle to keep yourself quiet. Your body trembles and erupts with goosebumps from the constraining cold and mounting pleasure. You don’t feel the set of eyes or the presence directly behind you.

Clothed hands wrap around your waist and grab your hands, pulling them away from pleasuring yourself. You gasp, fearing an unwanted presence but looking at the gauntlets, their familiar. Fear grips your heart, not from fear born of the prospect of being hurt but the one of being caught.

A cold sweat drips down your forehead as you slowly look behind you, seeing the Cavalry, staring down at you and his chest pressed up against your back. “A-Ah, it’s you…” you nervously squeak out.

The Cavalry doesn’t say anything, as always but you can feel something radiating off of him. His hands remain grasped around yours for a few more moments before letting them go and reaching down to your pussy instead. You pinpoint the feeling radiating from him, lust.

His large fingers feel around, soaking in your wetness as you watch them, transfixed. His breathing becomes more heavy as you feel something hard poking you in the back.

His finger traces around your clit and he watches as you twitch lightly, trying to chase that promised high that was ripped from you by him, just moments ago. Your face burns with embarrassment as you let him do so.

It doesn’t take long before that knot forms and wetness drips from you again. He knows what he’s doing as he continues to play with your clit and trace his free fingers down your pussy, occasionally teasing by slipping only a small portion of his finger in before taking it out.

Your legs tremble as your brought to the brink and you bite down onto your hand to keep yourself from crying out. The orgasm isn’t far too intense as you only feel a small flood of wetness run down your legs.

The aftermath is silence. The Cavalry keeps his hands ghosting over your stomach, sending shivers up your back. One of his hands moves back and you hear some shuffling noises, before a soft thump and something warm and hard suddenly rests itself between your legs.

You look down and see the head of his cock positioned comfortably between your thighs, it looks rather girthy from what you can see and a few veins ripple along it. You speak again, your voice filled with lust. “Please..”

The indirect and open command from your simple word sends him into what you could only describe as a lustful frenzy as he begins to thrust between your thighs, using them for his pleasure. You hear a low groan coming from his helmeted face.

You watch as his cock goes back and forth and squeeze your thighs, making him shudder. His cock just barely rubbing against your sensitive and aching clit. His cock lightly shines as your wetness coats his cock, allowing him to thrust easier, a natural lubricant.

His arms wrap firmly around your chest, keeping you perfectly still. His ragged breaths breathing against your ear while he used your thighs. A small slap of skin on skin sounding out every time he thrusted forward.

Pre-cum dribbles from his tip, dripping off onto the ground as he continues thrusting. Your thighs are practically coated with your own smeared wetness and oh so slippery. Your clit becomes far more sensitive, desperately needing more than just simple feathering grazes of his cock.

His arms hold even more firm as you feel his cock twitch between your thighs and his thrusts become sloppy and uneven before he lets out a guttural groan and orgasms. His cum shooting out and landing on the forest floor, a few stray drops stick to your thighs.

You feel his chest heaving up and down as he regains his stamina. But his cock remains firmly between your thighs, still erect and clearly not done. You take a bit of an initiative. “Is that all?” It’s a small remark but it seems to resonate with him.

You're suddenly lifted and momentarily dazed by the sudden movement. He uses his superior strength to hook around under your legs and spread them open while keeping you lifted high up, in a full Nelson. His head rests on your neck and you can hear how his breath hitches and rumbles with lust.

His cock, still shining with lubrication and twitching with want rests for a few moments before you feel it starting to push into you. His sheer girth causes you to let out a small, pained, whine at the stretch of him entering.

Strangely, the pain sends a shiver of arousal through you. You didn’t know you would like this and it seems the Cavalry already pieced it together as he keeps pushing in, despite your face scrunching in pain. Despite your slight pained expression, you rather enjoyed it.

It feels like he’s practically in your guts as he finally hilts himself down to his balls. A large bulge visible on your lower stomach from his size. You feel stuffed already as he rests inside of you, waiting for you to stretch out.

He’s not the most patient as he starts with slow, short thrusts while you're still not done stretching out, hitting against your cervix with just a small movement. Pain flares up your body and you clench in response, hearing a huff coming from him when you do so. Your walls clench onto him perfectly when you're in pain.

The pain makes you feel more aroused as you only feel warmer and get wetter. His cock presses against your g-spot at all times while he sheathed inside, pushing against it. The pleasure and pain mixed together create a wonderful feeling for you.

The Cavalry himself loves your pain, and he quite likes to administer it. He thrusts up against and he hears you let out a moan of pleasured pain and your walls clench onto him again, just for a few moments. But it’s enough to make him groan.

“Faster.” You moan out and he abides by your command. His thrusts become just the slightest bit faster, still testing the water and his limits. So far you haven’t set any limits as he uses you to his pleasure. It’s a bit amusing to him, you think you're in charge but really you're not.

You feel his cock slide in and out, feeling every vein. The constant pressure against your g-spot makes you squirm and moan in delight, even if he’s only going at a moderate pace. Sweat forms on your forehead and glistens on your skin.

With the way he holds you, he’s able to get incredibly deep. You feel him lift you slightly before lowering you in tune with his thrusts, allowing him to reach just a bit further. You can already feel your orgasm approaching, aided by the pain and pressure.

Your hands clench and you suck in a gulp of air, biting down hard onto your bottom lip to keep quiet as you reach your climax. His cock still sliding in and out as you do so, re-coating itself in your juices. He helps you ride out your orgasm as you quiver and tense up.

The Cavalry holds back on his groan as you clench on him again. But he wasn’t done with one measly orgasm, he needed more and he wasn’t done with you until he completely emptied himself. He’s been alone for quite a while, so he knows this will take a while.

You slowly come down from the haze of orgasm and realise he’s still slowly thrusting in and out, a lewd squelch sounding out every time he thrusted in. You can feel how sensitive you’re getting already, your clit already aches and your legs quiver from just two orgasms.

“Al-Alright, I think that’s enough.” You manage to huskily breath out. Instead of listening to your command, he keeps going and keeps a firm hold on you. You are confused, the bewitching branch was supposed to make him listen to you at all times, was something the matter.

“Did you n-not hear me?” You huff, “I’m getting far too sensitive..” you practically whine and squirm. Still he doesn’t listen to you as he thrusts up and a flare of pain hits you. A new wave of arousal clouds you mind as saliva pools in your mouth from pain.

He’s far too interested in his own pleasure than yours. He’s tiring of his slow pace, he needs more, he needs to empty himself. His cock twitches inside of you from the thought and he suddenly increases his pace, not too fast but not too slow.

Your sensitivity nearly hurts as he goes faster. The pressure on your g-spot and your clit feel like they're starting to overwhelm you. The combined pleasure of both and the pain morphs into one, overwhelming ball of sensations. And before you know it, you orgasm on his cock again.

You hardly notice you did, your mind is far too clouded with lust and is melting into mush from the successive orgasms. Your face burns red and your muscles begin to ache themselves as your body tries to balance out the flood of hormones and feelings.

He quite likes how you unravel quickly in front of him. You're so warm and tight on his cock, who cares if he knocks you up, what is a few eighteen years? He doesn’t want to pull out, it feels far too good to even consider it.

Saliva slowly escapes your mouth and drips down your chin. Everything is becoming so overwhelming and hard to even comprehend. Your mind only focused on the feeling of his cock now practically ravaging your pussy. Tears well up in your eyes from the assault of hormones flooding through your veins.

The Cavalry’s cock twitches much more as his thrusts become sloppy and inconsistent and you can guess what will only happen next. He nearly turns into an animal as he viciously thrusts, trying desperately to reach his orgasm. He nearly slips out a few times but he hilts himself far in to compensate.

He thrusts up as far as he can go and you let out a pained and delighted moan as you orgasm again. At the same time, he finally reached his own orgasm and shoots ropes of cum deep inside of you. The foreign warmth feels so strange but you don’t mind it.

A few more thrusts and he cums again, filling you up even more. Some of his cum dribbles out of you, having no more room to rest inside. He keeps himself firmly planted in you as he and you breathes heavily, exhausted by the coupling.

Reluctantly, he lets himself slip out. His copious amounts of cum freely pouring out of your now, gaping pussy. It sticks to your thighs and drips down your ass and onto the floor. The smell of recent sex assaulting your nostrils.

You can hardly keep yourself up and The Cavalry notices immediately. Your eyes struggle to stay open and your muscles twitch and relax, your skin still shining lightly with sweat. He lets out an amused chuckle, how adorable.

He gently manoeuvres you in his hold to hold you in the bridal position. He needs to get you and him back to the camp, where he can protect you. He watches as you succumb to sleep in his arms as he makes the short trek back to the camp.

He smiles under his helmet. That bewitching branch really helped him out, loosened him up even just for a bit. He makes it to camp and places you on his bed, snuggling up next to you. He watched your sleeping form one last time before he let himself relax as well.

————-

Ever since that particular night, you and him have been extraordinarily close. Recently, you’ve been riding on with him on his mount and Torrent would simply follow.

You and him ride through Limgrave, a bag of materials in your hands. You got all that you need and now you need to head over to the Altus Plateau to continue your journey, now, with a loyal partner.

As you ride, you notice a distant familiar shape. Squinting your eyes, you see it clearly now. It’s a nomadic merchant, specifically, the one that sold you the branches. You gasp in recognition. “Wait! Go there!” You command and the Cavalry immediately abides.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up to the merchant, who yet again is horrified by the presence of a Nights Cavalry in broad daylight. Poor guy looks like he would faint but you quickly raise your hand to attract his attention before you slide off the mount.

“A-ah, it’s you.. th-the loyal customer in the woods.” He quivers in fear, still horrified.

“Hey it’s alright, that Cavalry is with me. He won’t hurt you.” Your words make the merchant let out a long, hefty, sigh of relief.

“Good, good.” He pauses before speaking again. “Did you wish to trade again?”

“Oh no, no.” You wave your hands dismissively. “I’m just here to thank you. If it wasn’t for you, this cavalry wouldn’t have become so friendly.”

“Uh, I’m not sure I follow.” He says.

“Y’know, the branches you sold me. They really work wonders. I hit him with just one and he became my ally, I can’t thank you enough.” You smile. But the confused face on the merchant makes you tilt your head. “Is something the matter?”

“When did you hit him with the branch?” The merchant inquires.

“A few weeks ago, they work for a while, didn't they?” You explain yourself.

“Dear customer,” he clasps his hands together. “I think your mistaken, bewitching branches don’t last that long.”

Your eyes widen and you stiffen up. You slowly turn to the Cavalry and see him, his arm crossed across his chest as he impatiently waits for you to finish your conversation. No red smoke emanates from him, and from what you can remember there hasn’t been any smoke for weeks.

Chapter Text

Content: No smut, only angst but happy ending. Reader might have had a miscarriage so TW. Continuation of the Kos chapter.

“My baby….. our baby…”

You wail, with a voice strained from what felt like endless years of torment. Your hand runs over your stomach, or what’s left of it. The gaping hole, with no more blood left to bleed, is the horrid mockery of the day Byrgenwerth destroyed everything.

You run your hands over the scaled neck of Mother Kos, still mourning her after all these years. The corpse of the great one, the pain of her death still feels like a fresh wound in your decayed, blood drained heart.

The child, the one you and Kos had made, taken and twisted into a horrific, screaming beast. You weren’t scared of it, it was your child as much as it was Kos’ but just seeing how twisted it is. The humanoid form, so skinny, and the umbilical cord snipped from its stomach. You don’t like looking at it whenever it comes out, it reminds you of all that went wrong.

———————-

The night is filled with screams. The villagers of the hamlet were slaughtered like pigs by those horrid hunters. You seen them, being sliced in half by a massive scythe, cut into ribbons by a rakuyo. The hunters didn’t care, they had killed children, their mothers, their fathers.

You wanted to stay, wanted to help them defend themselves against this merciless, senseless slaughter. But you were heavily pregnant with Kos’ child. It had been only a few months since the child was blessed into your womb and it was growing, soon to be born.

You couldn’t risk becoming too stressed and losing the child, or even being murdered like the rest of your friends and companions. The rushing of watery footsteps and distant screams reach your ears. Some screams cut off before they could ever be finished.

Pain seers your stomach and something other than the rushing rain, falls down your legs. “No, no, no. Not now.” You quickly mumble and silently prey, but the pain only increases as you continue running down to the beach to the corpse of Kos.

Kos had washed up only a mere month ago, at first, you were distraught. A great one, your great one, dead and washed up on the beach like a fresh kill from a fishermen. But when you learned that Kos was only dead physically, but alive spiritually, you finally calmed.

Kos had spoken to you when you prayed to her corpse, to tell you not to worry, and confirm she is still here. The infant great one inside your stomach squirmed anytime you got close to Kos’ corpse, like it was attempting to reach its mother.

Nearly stumbling, you focus back on running through the cave system to get to the beach. Your legs quake from exhaustion and pain as blood and birth fluid drip down them. If you could get to Kos, perhaps she could offer you help. She was a great one, she could help you, couldn't she?

It’s almost as if she hears your thoughts even now, feels your body going into labour. What felt like an invisible tug, held onto your heart, begging, pleading with you to reach her corpse. You will be safe, your baby will be safe.

Loud, echoing footsteps make you turn around, seeing the distant light of pursuing hunters. When they came here, they immediately began to search for you. You heard just hours before the massacre, one of your friends told you that a large group of strange hunters were asking about you.

But you made the biggest mistake of your life that moment. You brushed it off and signalled to your friend that you needed to pray to Kos, effectively ignoring the hunters. Only hours later, did you come back to the village, to see it littered with corpses and panic strewn about.

An injured man hobbled up to you, his arm barely hanging on by a thread and begged you with you. “Please! Save us from them! Tell Mother Kos! They come for her child! They come for her priestess!” He yells, before slumping over and dying in front of you.

You never felt that kind of fear in your life before. They were going to kill you, and great ones only know what they’ll do to the growing infant inside of you. So you ran, you turned and ran back into the cave system.

The light at the end of the long tunnel appears to you, the sound of endless, hard, rain echos lightly. Your legs feel weaker by the second and the pain is nearly unbearable, you aren’t sure if you're going into labour or if you have gotten too stressed and are losing the precious baby.

Putting your hand on the cave wall, you balance yourself as you run slows down to a limping walk and you breath heavily. Everything hurts, your body hurts, your head hurts, your heart hurts. But the invisible tug keeps pulling at you, urging you to get to the corpse.

Sand crunches under your bare feet, the cave wall falling away, causing you to have to use all of your available strength to hold yourself up. Even then, you slouch over in pain and exhaustion. The glittering, scaly body of Kos lies so enticingly near the shoreline. You're almost there.

Something sharp, reflects off of the moon in your peripheral vision. You turn around and meet the gaze of an older hunter, wielding a massive scythe. You fall to your knees from pain, slowing down even further and the hunter begins to walk over to you.

His footsteps sound like thunder as he slowly gets closer, knowing he has you trapped. But you keep dragging yourself to the corpse of Kos, you’re so close, just a few more feet and she will save you. Yours and Kos’ baby will be born somewhere safe, you will live through this night.

A hand roughly grabs your ankle, pulling you back a few feet and turning you around. Your eyes meet with the old hunters, they seem almost, empty, like he’s there but his mind isn't. His scythe, held in his hands, rears up, preparing to strike.

Even in the face of imminent death, you don’t break your vow of silence but only put up your hands to ask for mercy. As the blade glints in the moonlight, the baby inside of you squirms, needing to be born, or needing to die. Unfortunately, you know now, it will be the ladder.

And the blade is brought down, slicing clean through your neck.

Like some cruel fate has befallen you, you are conscious just for a few more seconds. You see your headless body, the stump spewing fresh blood and you see the old hunter, slice open your body's stomach and steal the infant.

The last moments before you finally die, you see more hunters come in and begin to drain the blood from your body. And a hunter comes up, a lady with blonde hair to pick up your veiled head. Her face shows distraught.

Your head is taken away, separated away from the body where it’s supposed to be. To be taken to Byrgenwerth and studied.

——————-

You suppose that this isn’t your babies fault, it’s the hunters fault for all of this. The nightmare you're eternally trapped in, eternally mourning your dearest great one. Imagining what could have been, instead of what has been.

The bloody tears soak through your new veil, a veil that covers the entirety of your head and is so long it reaches your stomach, effectively blocking the giant hole as well. You aren’t sure how the veil came into the nightmare, but you do remember it being there the moment you ‘woke’ here.

Feeling your veil, you remember something. You need something, something very important. With horrid strain, you stand up on your legs, covered now with scales. To outsiders, you look normal enough, your robes hide everything.

Through the time spent in the nightmare, you’ve slowly been transforming. Nearly all of your skin has now turned scaled, shimmering much like Kos’. Bony fins poke out of your arms and legs, the webbing holed and ripped. But the fins can't pierce your robes.

You are more suited to the water now, then you are the land. But the sea is welcoming, of all that is and all that will be. The sea is where you met Kos and where you will meet Kos again. This new form is blessed by the power of Kos but in this nightmare, you can’t escape into the promised sea. The nightmare will have to end for you to be beckoned into its waves, for your child to follow you in and meet with its other mother.

You hold onto your intensities as you stand, for they had nearly fallen out. You almost forgot why you never stood up. Everything would try to fall out of you if you did but that doesn’t matter right now, you need to get going.

“Dear Kos… I shall come back.” You try to say, your voice so low and strained. “I’ve forgotten something… I need to get it…” you sniffle, not wanting to leave Kos but you must.

Stepping to the opening of the cave, your legs wobble and struggle to keep you up. You see, through your thin veil, the praying forms of women, who looked transformed into snail-like beings. They whisper for Kos, grieve for her, grieve for you. They were the women, slaughtered in the hamlet.

As you step in the cave, the snail women suddenly scream and cry, hiding their face in their hands and wailing horribly. Your very presence, reminding them, your very presence sparking grief. A few snail women reach for you but refuse to touch you, they wail prayers and grieve your death.

Your feet slosh in the watery cave, hearing the screaming cries of the snail-women fade away as you walk further and further into the cave system. You hear quick splashing and sloshing, seeing a snail-women attempting to run from something.

Wobbly walking over, you come face to face with the very thing that caused the distress. But the moment it sees you, it ceases its humming, it ceases its movements and it ceases all. For a few moments, it states idly are you before it begins to cry.

The many eyes in its fleshy bulbous face leak tears and look at you. Its song is replaced by the haunting wails of grief. The tentacles hanging down from the fleshy mass head, curl in to block its eyes. The eyes close soon after, as if just looking at you is hurting the being.

It turns and begins to walk away, still crying and clearly afraid of you. But you don’t feel anything, you don’t feel fear at this creature, you don’t feel remorse, you need to get going to get what you have forgotten.

Continuing your weak walk, you stuff your intensities back into the gaping hole in your stomach. The walk out of the cave brings you to a familiar yet unfamiliar place. It’s changed, far too much.

The hamlet is mostly flooded, the buildings covered in barnacles and decaying from water damage. A far cry from the beautiful hamlet you were raised in, the hamlet your child would have been born in. But you don’t feel anything, you're only focused on your task.

You can feel it now. You know something foreign is in the hamlet, something alive and moving around, something sentient. Two some things in-fact, perhaps they could help you find it.

The fish-like beasts walking around the hamlet can sense you before they even see you. You walk by, hearing their wails of grief and screams of rage, directed at those who did this. The dogs, contorted into aquatic beings, whine and back away from you as you continue your walk.

A gunshot rings in your ears and you stop for a moment before beginning to walk to the sound. There they are, the somethings who can help you.

——————-

Two hunters run in the fishing hamlet, swinging their weapons. The fish-beasts are relentless, coming one after the other to attempt to rip them apart with claws and teeth. A few times they got off a few bites, but were quickly dispatched.

“Shit! They're nearly everywhere.” A male hunter, William, shouts. “You got me covered. Thomas?” He calls to his companion.

“Right on ya’” he points his gun and fires at more fish-beasts. A few get too close and he brings his saw clear out, slicing through them.

Thomas has his back pressed against William, fighting through the horde. Lady Maria was easier than this hell hole that she was guarding so vehemently. He could mostly tell why now, perhaps she didn’t want these things to escape.

The pair fight as one only for so long. Thomas’s silver bullets have run out and his gun clicks, just as he’s about to fire at a fish beast. The beast pounces and latches onto his arm, digging its teeth in.

“Augh!” He screams in pain, catching the attention of William, who promptly spins around and shoots the beast through its skull.

“That was too close. it could have bitten your arm off.” William says, clearly exhausted as he breathed heavily. “But we have to-“ he cuts himself off as confusion suddenly makes itself apparent. “Keep killing them…?”

The fish beasts, cower and almost sound like their crying as they all turn to look into one direction. The direction they face, is a dark house, hiding everything inside. The beasts wail horribly and back up, horrified.

“What the hell is going on.” Thomas whispers to himself, watching as the beasts, even the massive ones, back away in fear and eventually turn tail and run away. They are left alone.

William flinches, feeling a strange wave of grief run through him. He feels Thomas flinch as well, knowing he felt It too. The air around them almost feels heavy, and the darkness of the house taunting them. There is no sound, other than the patter of the rain and their own breathing.

“Excuse me…”

Thomas and William bite their tongues, attempting not to scream as they hear a feminine voice call out from the dark house. They don’t have time to respond before they see who the voice belongs to.

It’s a woman, draped in a dirty, white robe. A long veil covering her face and the front of her body. Blood stains the veil and stains down the legs of the robe.

“Oh my gods, William, it’s a woman and she’s hurt!” Thomas quickly whispers to him before raising his voice to get the woman’s attention. “Hey! Come here! You're hurt! We’ll help you!”

But the woman, you, only walks so slowly. You’ve broken your vow of silence, but does it matter when the thing you're looking for is so important? Nonetheless, you feel guilt for speaking your own words and not Kos’. You're sure Kos will understand.

“Ms, please come over to us! It’s far too dangerous for you here!” William backs up his friend, waving you over with haste. But yet, you still walk so slowly to them.

Keeping your arms over the hole in your stomach, obscured by the veil and the surrounding darkness, you speak once more. “Ah, two young men. Pray tell, could you tell me?….” You take a deep breath in.

Thomas and William watch as the woman stops before them, looking terribly hurt and quaking. They both feel horrible for the poor woman, but they don’t just feel horrible on their own. Something else felt like it was hurting their heart. The closer the woman got, the worse they felt.

“Tell you what, ma’am?” Thomas asks, hearing his own voice waiver. He feels almost scared. Is this woman really a normal person? Injured and scared?

“My baby… have you seen my baby?” Your strained voice asks. You keep slowly walking up to the men as the world, in your eyes, begins to distort and the men, distort into those horrid beings.

“We’re sorry ma’am, but we’ve seen no child.” William says, as nervous as Thomas. “But we can get you out of here and come to search for them later.”

“No…no.” You mumble, clutching your head with your scaled hand. The world is distorting to the night of the massacre. “You know where it is…” you point at them. Instead of seeing two young men, you see that scythe wielding hunter and his blonde haired companion.

Thomas looks at William, sweat forming on his forehead and whispers to him. “Is this lady okay? Like mentally?” Thomas flinches, feeling that horrible pit of despair worsening as you keep approaching. “Ugh, you feel that too right?”

William nods, “I don't know how to explain it, but I think this lady is the cause.” He whispers back, pointing to you. He clears his throat before raising his voice to talk to you. “No, we don't know where your baby is, as we’ve said.”

You practically growl like a beast, although it sounds more like gurgling on water. “No! You took my baby!” You accuse and point to William, who to you, is the scythe wielding hunter. “And you….” You point to Thomas, who is now the blonde haired woman. “Stole my head… give it back…”

They begin to back away, hands clutching their weapons. “We don’t know what you're talking about. Please calm down.” William says, trying to deescalate the situation.

“Give it back… give it back.. the things you unrightfully took.” Your voice begins to gurgle, water rising up to your throat. “My head… and my dearest child…” you take a breath in, feeling your lungs filling with water. “Was it satisfying? When you murdered me?…. For the pursuit of selfish gain? What did you learn?” Taking another step towards them, you grasp onto your veil.

“And why did you ever come back?” You snarl and rip the veil from your ‘head’. The veil falls away and into the dirty water, revealing your headless stump and gaping hole in your stomach, your intestines hanging loosely and the majority of your organs completely gone.

You aren’t sure how you even function. Your body is completely headless but you can still talk, breathe, see, smell and hear. It was most likely the effect of the nightmare and your own sheer rage and despair.

“By the blood!” William shouts in fear and Thomas. jumps back, nearly tumbling onto William. “What the hell are you?!” He shouts, holding out his weapon Incase you get far too close.

However you don’t answer and continue your slow advance. The men back away with each step you take forward, horrified by what they see. The pit of guilt and overwhelming sorrow forces out tears through their eyes, dripping into the water. Through all of this, any enemy to come near, senses your presence and ran away in fear.

Thomas narrows his eyes, taking a closer look at you. “William… I think…I think we do have her head.” He turns to William, whispering quickly.

“What the hell are you blathering about?! I most certainly am not carrying around a decapitated head!” William says.

“Well we don’t have it, but we know where it is, don’t we?” Thomas tried to remind him. “When we explored Byrgenwerth, remember that head we saw in the display case?”

“Yeah? The veiled one that looked scarily fresh?” William recalls. When he first saw it, it scared the living daylights out of him. He remembers reading a plaque below it, although most of its text was crudely scratched out and strangely, had barnacles covering bits of it.

‘Head of-‘ covered by barnacles. ‘Or otherwise known as Kos’ mouthpiece or Kos Priestess. Back of the skull was cut open, numerous growths of eyes found inside. Further research will be conducted by-‘ scratched out, ‘do not take out of the case.’ The rest of the text was obscured by barnacles and scratches.

“Yes, that one. I think I know what we have to do.” Thomas says, “I’ll go back to Byrgenwerth and get the head. You keep her here.” Before William could protest, Thomas had already bolted for the distant lamp and disappeared.

You step closer and closer to William. The dread and sorrow was becoming too much for him, it felt like it was physically weighing him down. “Listen… I may not know what happened to you…” he begins, slowly backing up.

To you, his words are almost like an insult but you can’t talk further anymore. Your lungs are filled with water and your wounds now bleed, as fresh as the day they were made. Blood pours from your headless stump and blood runs down between your legs, staining through your dirty white robes. You want your baby back, you want your head back, you want to be released from this nightmare.

“But I know.. you didn’t deserve that.” He tries to make his voice as soothing as possible. “You were unjustly hurt, I know…I know your anger, and you aren’t wrong to feel it.” He puts his hands in front of him. That movement makes you stop in your tracks. You see yourself now, holding up your hands to silently beg for mercy.

“Your baby was stolen.” He looks down to the gaping hole that was your stomach and with horrific realisation, he realises that it wasn’t just stolen but physically ripped out of you. “In the most horrific way possible.”

You somehow produce the sound of a sniffle, feeling that wave of grief again. The grief you always felt, mourning over Kos’ corpse. It’s like you were back at that cursed beach, crying and crying.

“And to make sure you didn’t possibly get back up, they took your head, didn’t they?” He asks and sees your stub make a small, weak nod. “I’m so sorry.” Tears of his volition make their way down his cheek.

“You're dead, but living in this nightmare… I can’t imagine what that feels like, to be stuck here due to the selfish greed of whoever hurt you.” In your eyes, William begins to transform back from the scythe wielding hunter to his original form. You aren’t sure what to think anymore, this wasn’t the man who hurt you.

He crouches down, laying down his weapon in the water and cautiously begins to approach you. The closer he gets, the worse his grief but he keeps in his tracks, determined. “We can help you.. and you can help us..” his voice is lowered and soothing. “If you let us pass, we can end this nightmare.” Even if he’s alone for the moment, he still uses ‘us’.

You stand completely still, your mind blanked. Could this nightmare really end? Would you finally be able to make your journey into the sea? See Kos again, see your baby again? But you don’t even know if you want the nightmare to end. It exists to punish those who killed you, and you never want them to get away with it.

“The nightmare…” you gurgle. “Keeps.. those who did this.. suffering…” you struggle to keep speaking. “I want them to.. suffer in agony, writhe as much as I have.. for all these years.”

“But that won’t solve anything.” He chooses his words carefully. A sound catches his attention, the sloshing of water and he sees Thomas, holding what he could only presume was your head, in his hands and cautiously approaching.

“I know how it feels, to want someone to hurt as much as you.” He continues. “But staying here, letting this nightmare fester.. it’s only hurting you further then it hurts them.” He’s only a few feet from you, the passive grief nearly making him burst into tears. “If you let this nightmare continue, nothing will be solved.”

Thomas approaches, holding the head. He hears the words William speaks, shocked by how calm he is and how close he’s getting to you. Thomas walks up to William and quickly hands him the head before jumping back, the overpowering grief making him let out a choked back cry.

William looks at the head in his hands, the veil not as long as the one you had thrown away. Your real veil only covered your eyes. He could see and feel how fresh the head was, no signs of decay. The head is deeply saddening to look at, now that he can piece together what happened. You were a victim of a senseless slaughter.

“Please, let us help you.” He slowly holds out the head, offering it to you. “We will end this nightmare, set you free.” He watches as your hands slowly reach for the head before brushing against his own hands. He feels the strange scales on your hands and nearly shivers in fright.

You hold onto your head. Oh how long has it been, since you’ve felt your own hair, your own cheeks and face. Slowly, you fall onto your knees and cradle your head in your lap. When you speak, your decapitated heads mouth, moves. “On the beach.. you will find it.” You begin, the water from your lungs slowly dissipating. “My baby.. Kos’ orphan… it will try to kill you, the moment you step on the beach.”

It feels like you're betraying Kos, but now you know, you’ll need this nightmare to end. “Please, have mercy on the poor child and put it to rest… return it to the sea, and I will not be far behind..” you add one final thing. “But please, upon my departure. Do not let what happened here go unwritten in history. Do not let the people forget of what they’ve done.”

Thomas and William, look at you, cradling the head. Thomas holds back another sob, the grief ever so worse now. William lets his tears freely fall, but makes no noise. William takes a shuddering breath before speaking, “thank you. We will release you, and your baby from this nightmare. And we will not let this place be forgotten in history.”

With that, he gestures for Thomas to follow and they begin to walk off. They are completely silent, daring not to look back, a newfound determination of justice in their veins. They don’t see when you put your head back on and stare at them solemnly, a tear, one not of blood but a real tear, falls from your eye. All you have to do now, is pray for your child to be killed as a mercy.

They traverse the cave system until they come to an opening, and see the sight of the beach. They see the washed up corpse of Kos and prepare for the worst as they step on the beach, and the stomach of Kos shifts, a deformed creature crawling out from it.

—————-

You can feel the moment your baby is killed, feel the moment the nightmare is slain. You stay sat down for a few moments longer before wobbly standing up. They’ve done it, they have ended the nightmare.

As you take your first few steps, you can feel a weight falling from your back. Falling from your mind and setting you free. You're free now, finally free to venture into the sea and pass on to where you rightfully deserve to be.

When you got to the beach, the two hunters awaited you. They stand a few feet from Kos’ corpse and remain completely silent, watching as you walk over to the corpse and crouch down. Grabbing onto the little black figure made of smoke and enveloping it into your hold. The figure stops its writhing and slowly dissipates.

You can feel yourself beginning to fade away, some black flecks coming off of your body. Your baby awaits you in the sea, Kos awaits you in the sea. And you don’t want to keep them waiting. As you begin to fade, you feel a sense of deep, deep peace.

Turning to the hunters, you lift your veil one last time to reveal your full face. For the first time in years, you smile before closing your eyes and relaxing. Letting yourself fade into smoke, leading into the ocean.

William and Thomas, don’t feel the effect of grief around you anymore. They feel relief, peace and happiness. A prisoner freed from her own chains built by rage. They can hear the voice of that familiar, angrily mumbling fish person ring in their head.

“Ah, sweet child of Kos, returned to the ocean. Followed by its doting mothers… the depths are accepting of all that there is, and all that there will be. Peace for the victim, peace for the child.”

Chapter Text

Content:Request! Dub-Con-ish. Bad Ending (ALT ending will be written :3) Gwyndolin has 2 penises. I kinda retconned Yorshka out of this, sorry! Divine on Mortal (are undead considered mortal? Probably not but Whatev). Power imbalance. Praise kink. Double penetration.

Blood pours down your nose like a waterfall, some droplets spilling into your mouth and coating your tongue in its metallic taste. You breathe in, and regret it as your cracked, nearly shattered ribs shake and send waves of pain through your chest.

Anor Londo was supposed to be your next milestone. You were supposed to be happy and excited, to feel as if you were at the very top of the world when you entered the gleaming, fabled city of the gods.

You were supposed to go along with your adventure, undisturbed and facing the new challenges with determination and some recklessness. To learn from your mistakes, but this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not one, not even two but three invaders had begun to prey on you just a minute after you stepped into Anor Londo. It was like some cruel joke that the gods were playing with you, giving you only the slightest feel of the city before throwing knives at you.

Fwishh!

Speaking of knives, a dagger lands and digs itself deep into the post beside you, missing you by a hair. You curse your rotten luck, the invaders had found your small hiding spot, most likely following your blood trail.

Clutching your ribs, you begin to run again, but it was more of a fast limp. You were slouched over in pain and fear, every movement felt like fire burning your muscles and it felt like your ribs were threatening to impale your aching lungs.

These invaders just wouldn’t give up. You would have challenged them or course, Infact, that’s the first thing you did. But that was only when there was one, and a second one snuck up behind you and stabbed you through your back, breaking some of your spine in the process.

Your fight with the first had left you without any estus and with the second one joining the fray, you were already outmatched. When the third one showed up, they wielded a great axe and they were the one to shatter your ribs.

The invaders didn’t fight fair, they didn’t try to have a one on one, they all went after you all at once. The flurry of swords and thrown objects nearly blinded you, but you escaped amidst the chaos. At least you thought you did, but here they are now, giving chase.

It was a miracle how you were able to even run or walk at all considering your grave injuries. If the invaders didn’t kill you, your injuries would. That is, if you couldn’t get to a bonfire in time. You groan with pain, clutching your side as you run down the spiralling stairs of the elevator.

The elevator was a technical marvel, but you couldn’t admire it. You had to get out of here, and fast or face a brutal death, most likely chopped to bits. It wasn’t that you were afraid of death, no, you were afraid of going hollow.

You had died so many times, especially in Sen's Fortress that you were used to it. Which was macabe to think about, anyone getting used to dying over and over again but here you were. You didn’t like dying, it hurt, that was obvious.

But dying again and again was taking a toll on your mental stability and attitude. You started your journey with a fresh, happy face and now your face has practically devolved into a scowl. Dying could be traumatising, and having no one to comfort you after a particularly terrible death, hurts you emotionally.

Even then, after you get up. You sometimes wonder why even do this at all? You were going to meet your end anyways, fodder to the flame, and prolong the age of the gods. But was it really worth it? You had your doubts about gods sometimes.

You meet the end of the stairway and walk out into the bridge, seeing it abruptly end. Your heart stops and you gasp, but regret it as pain flares in your chest and you cough violently. Were you cornered? It sure looked like it.

Limping onto the bridge, you hear the elevator go up. You should've expected that, but somehow you didn’t, now the invaders can make their way down to you. You let out a hiss of combined pain and anger as you walk across the bridge and to its end.

A wave of dizziness hits you as you look down, and you catch yourself before you can fall. This was bad, real bad, your injuries were getting to you. You were bleeding profusely, some segments of spine were broken and even a large gash on your back, exposed some of the cracked bones. You could feel the breeze on your exposed flesh. And of course, your damned, shattered ribs.

Coughing up blood, you look back down and notice something. It looks like the top of a platform. But what could you do with that? You look back up and around the bridge, something golden reflecting the setting sun's rays catches your eyes.

It’s a golden lever, sitting so enticingly on the edge of the bridge. You limp over to it, maybe this will call that platform up. Without thinking over it too much, you grab onto the lever and use all your available strength to pull it.

You struggle for a few moments before it suddenly lets up and harshly pulls, nearly knocking you down. You regain your footing just in time for the bridge to suddenly start shaking and loud creaking piercing your ears.

Struggling to stay up, you realise it’s not the bridge that’s moving or shaking but something below it. Realisation hits you as you look over the ledge and see the top of the platform quickly approaching. You jump back just in time as the platform rests on level with the bridge.

Looking back, you see the elevator descend and three ugly red invaders, contrasting so heavily against the golden architecture of Anor Londo riding down it. You don’t have any time to think, you just need to get away and treat your wounds as fast as possible. Running onto the platform, you notice a strange dial-like contraption in the middle.

Grasping onto the handle and trying to push it proves difficult. Nervous sweat coats your forehead as you notice the invaders running down the spiralling staircase and onto the bridge. You keep trying to push it, but your ribs and muscles ache and scream in protest. You were exhausted and your adrenaline was running out.

“Please, please….” You mumble to yourself and see the invaders getting closer by the second. The handle of the dial makes a groaning sound before it suddenly lets up and you push it until it clicks. Just before the invaders could hop onto the platform, it suddenly began to spiral downwards.

Relief floods your veins as you see the invaders stop in their tracks, watching as you and the platform go down, away from their clutches. You peer out and look up at them, grinning and flipping them off.

One of the invaders, the one that shattered your ribs with their great axe, clearly doesn’t take this well. They stiffen up and make a gesture of their finger slicing against their neck, to say ‘I’ll kill you.’

You move away from the railings and notice another spiralling staircase, ‘that could be promising.’ You think and begin to walk down it. The spiralling of the staircase and the spinning platform doesn’t help as nausea drowns your senses.

Even worse, your adrenaline was practically shot and you were feeling the effects of your injuries and exhaustion. Your knees buckle and legs shake with every slow step you take down the stairs. The open wound on your back blazed with pain at every breeze. And you were beginning to have a hard time breathing.

Your eyes unfocus and jitter around, nearly causing you to fall down the stairs. The stairs suddenly jitter as you bounce up for a moment and you realise that the platform has stopped, reaching its destination.

Stepping onto the final stair, you notice where you’ve landed. There’s a large room, with an imposing statue of Lord Gwyn himself standing in its back, as if watching over the room. You step in and cautiously look around, that’s when you notice a bonfire sitting enticingly in the middle of the room.

But your hopes are short lived and drained out of you, the bonfire is extinguished and therefore completely useless. You hobble over to the extinguished bonfire and collapse to your knees, the impact of your knees landing on the hard floor sends a painful ripple up your back.

There’s nowhere for you to go, you're trapped. The circular room has only one entrance and one exit, which was the archway you just passed through. If you tried to board the platform again and get it to go somewhere else, the invaders would most definitely catch up to you and deliver a not-so-quick death.

Should you just let yourself die? Be violently ripped apart and then wake back up at the last bonfire? But that thought ails you, you were sure that if you died one more time, you wouldn’t be able to handle this journey anymore. You’d go hollow.

You let yourself fall as your vision blurs further and you can hear the platform moving, called up by the persistent invaders. You suppose it wasn’t worth it anymore, you had nothing, nothing to praise, nothing to worship, nothing to think about. You were just undead, and that’s all you would be.

Blood drops onto the ground with small ‘drip, drip, drips’ and you breathe heavily. Your ribs rattle against your chest with every inhale of oxygen. It’s near impossible for you to see now, but you focus on the biggest thing in the room, the statue of Gwyn.

It’s the only thing you can make out, everything is a blur. Your eyes flutter and shut for a moment before you force them to spring open. A will to live still stuck to you like a leech feeding on your warm blood. You supposed that was just normal, your human instinct to survive.

The Gwyn statue flickers. Your eyes widen as far as you can make them with your heavy eyelids, which wasn’t much. Did you just see what you saw? Or were you so delirious that you were imagining things flickering in and out of reality.

The statue flickers again, this time disappearing for a few more seconds before re-appearing. You lift your head, quivering horribly as you do so and focus your attention on the statue. Yet again, it flickers once, twice and then a final third time before vanishing all together.

You begin to weakly drag yourself across the floor, a smudged trail of blood following you. You can see that there’s something where the status once was and as you get closer, you notice it’s a staircase. You manage to drag yourself to the very start of the stairs and look down, seeing a rug and candles surrounding it.

But the most interesting thing was a wall of fog in a small archway. You could escape there, if you could get down. But you were far too weak to even stand, if you were to go down you’d have to crawl down the stairs which would take far too long and the invaders would catch you in no time.

Groaning in pain, you slowly begin your descent. Every stair down, pain mounts and adds into itself and your ribs crack horribly. Your vision blurs and everything is mushed once more, you hardly have any idea how far each stair is unless you feel around.

The slow descent doesn’t last long as you hear the platform land and the sound of pursuing footsteps. But you didn’t have time to look behind you and a harsh kick digs into your broken ribs. You could swear you feel the sharp ends of your ribs pierce your lungs as you're practically launched down the stairs.

Slamming down each stair, you can hardly produce a sound anymore until you harshly land on the bottom and slide a few feet, knocking down the candles and dragging the little carpet. You groan pitifully and struggle to lift yourself to even look at the invaders. Blood from your mouth drips onto the ground.

They slowly walk down the staircase, prolonging your torture as you cough out blood. You should just let them catch you, there’s no point in running anymore. In your very soul, you can feel the pit of hollowing.

“What foolishness….”

A young male voice suddenly makes itself known and makes the invaders stop in their tracks. You turn to look at the fog wall, hearing the voice come from behind the veil.

“Thou tarnish the peace of the Great Lords tomb, with the shed of innocent blood. Thou shalt not go unpunished!” You can hardly see who’s talking with your blurred vision but something appears to be coming out of the fog wall.

The invaders stop in their tracks and back away, they look afraid of whatever is coming out. You should be afraid, but you're too weak to feel anything. You see what looks like a nest of snakes piercing out of the veil until an upper body, carried by the snakes passes through. They wear stark white clothing and appear to have the sun on their head.

You try to back away as the towering figure slowly bends down, mostly, to your level. “Hear my voice.” His voice was peaceful, as if trying to appear more friendly. “Thou hast journeyed far. If thou shalt swear by the covenant, I shall see thee art protected.”

Seeing no other choice, you lift your head just a bit and let out a weak, “I swear…” is all you can manage before collapsing and feeling the rush of unconsciousness hit you.

The final moments before you finally pass you see something, multiple somethings, blue and rising out of the ground and charging for the invaders. You feel soft hands grasp onto you and lift you and you finally give into the dark of sleep, staring up at the crown that looks like the sun adorned upon your saviours head.

——————————-

Your footsteps thunder and slam against the snowy, slippery and now gloomy architecture of Anor Londo, being careful not to slip. Behind you, followed three younger members of the Blade of the Darkmoon.

It has been countless years since that moment, when you found your purpose. When you joined the Blades of the Darkmoon and began to serve Master Gwyndolin, who rightfully earned your undying loyalty and strength by saving you at your lowest.

Now you were at your highest, your prime. Even if you were nearing your hundreds in age, you still had your youthful visage and vigour due to your undead properties. You were faster, stronger and smarter than the rest of the Blades, you had to be, you were their captain.

You rightfully earned the title of captain with your strength and dedication. It took only a few weeks of service in your first year to be recognized by Master Gwyndolin and another year to be promoted to a captain.

Tightening your grip on your signature shotels, you jump over a massive gap and keep hot on the trail of a sinner. Moments after you hear the three apprentices jump the gap, trying their hardest to keep up.

You had discarded your previous weapons so long ago, in exchange for these shotels with wickedly sharp ends. It was a gift from Master Gwyndolin himself, handed down to you in a ceremony after you had been promoted. You took to them in no time, able to slice into enemies like butter.

“Keep up!” You shout over your shoulder at the three members who were beginning to fall behind. You were originally tasked with training them but you took it on your own liberty to have a ‘field’ experience. A filthy sinner had been spotted in Anor Londo and you simply couldn’t have that, nor could you leave the trainees so you took them with you.

The duties of a captain included training new recruits, hunting sinner’s much like any other member, keeping watch and assigning others to do so, keeping track of every member and unfortunately finding out their fate if they disappear. There were a few other things, but they were more miscellaneous.

Many agreed you were an incredible captain, but sometimes you were a little harsh in your training methods. Believing in on-field experience and the ‘no pain no-gain’ mentality. It wasn’t entirely your fault, it was simply an after effect of a vow you took to never be weak again.

You harshly turn a corner, nearly spraining your ankle but you don’t care. The three young members are still following behind you. The sinner you chase is rather elusive and fast, turning sharp corners and keeping a few paces ahead of you.

Turning to one of the members running beside you, you speak up. “You, cut them off.” Your order is immediately abided with a nod as they seperate from you and jump across the scaffolding, disappearing moments afterwards behind some pillars and walls.

Pointing to another, you give them an order. “Try to push them inwards, flank their side.” You turn to the last, third member and speak again, “and you stay with me.”

The second member does as you say, using a burst of energy to nearly catch up to the sinner but staying on their side and not engaging, slowly pushing them to the side with swings of their smaller shotel.

The plan was working well, all you need to do is wait for the moment the first member cuts off the sinner and you can deal with the finishing blow. You could easily catch up to the sinner with some effort but you wanted the younger Blades to have some experience working in a team.

You keep yourself paced with the third member following you. The chase across the roof spans for another minute before it begins to turn in a wide arch. You see a flash of silver and notice the first Blade in waiting, they look to you for confirmation and you give a nod.

They suddenly jump out, catching the fleeing sinner off guard as they attempt to jump back but are caught by the second Blade flanking them. Within moments they were on the floor, pinned down. You catch up with the third Blade and twirl your shotels in your hands.

“Good job.” You say plainly, “I’d say you earned the concord I’ll take from this… filth..” you practically spit on the sinner. Taking the ear off of a sinner was a delicate procedure that you got down to a T. So you’ll give them the ear to give to Master Gwyndolin, as a reward for good cooperation.

Walking over to the struggling sinner, you step onto their neck to keep them pinned as you motion for the two Blades pinning him down to back up. The weight of your armour and muscle keeps them effectively on the ground, even if they struggle like a fish.

“The best way to not stain your armour with filthy blood is…” you press down on the neck of the sinner while you talk to the three Blades. “Not to use a blade.” With that, you suddenly turn your heel and the struggling stops with a loud snap. The sinner's neck snapped clean at an awkward angle.

It wasn’t just a way to keep clean but a small lesson to use whatever you can if they were disarmed. You take your foot off of the snapped neck of the sinner and crouch down, angling your shotel to the ear of the sinner. Though a delicate procedure, it was no problem for you.

Bringing down the shotel you cut the ear clean off as if it was nothing. You stand up straight quickly, not wanting to get any sinners blood on your foot or weapon. It was more of a preference than a need. You beckon over one of the Blades, the one who ambushed the sinner.

“Here, take it.” You toss the ear to the Blade who happily catches it. Before the other two could protest, you put up your hand to silence them. “You two will get your concords soon, just have patience. Patience is a virtue well rewarded.”

You look to the body of the sinner, knowing you’ll have to dispose of it and you grimace. “Away, all of you.” You send the Blades off and they leave as you begin to push the body. It doesn’t take long before you eventually push it off the high scaffolding of Anor Londo and watch as it disappears into the darkness of the far ground.

You hear the tapping of footsteps and turn around, “I thought I told you three to go back.” You say and start to walk to the sound. The sound gets louder as you get closer but you can’t see the source.

A face suddenly appears and you hardly choke back a scream, “By gods!” You put your hand over your racing heart as you recognize the face. It’s another member of the Blades, but he’s a messenger for Master Gwyndolin. You know him pretty well, so intentionally scaring you was very much like him.

“Can you stop doing that?” You huff out as you calm down.

“Sorry, sorry it was just too good of an opportunity.” He says, a small accent lacing his words. “But I didn’t come here to scare ya’ I got an important message from Master Gwyndolin himself.” He digs into a pouch slung over his shoulder and pulls out a scroll.

A message from Master Gwyndolin?! This could be important. You lean in with an expectant face and watch as he unravels the scroll and begins to read. “Addressed to mine loyal Captain (Name).” He begins, “I request thee within mine quarters, for I hath a gift that I wish to bestow upon thee for thy devotion. Waste no time, and hurry forth.” He finishes and ravels up the scroll again.

He smiles at you, “gee, I wonder what Master Gwyndolin would want to give you. He’s given you everything by now.” He says, a little nosy as always.

It was true, Master Gwyndolin practically gave you everything. Power in the form of your rank and weapon, hope in the form of your devotion, a place to call home and practically a family. You saw the younger members as your own sometimes, like they were your children. They could be, you were old enough to be their grandmother but alas nobody came from you.

“Master Gwyndolin is quite generous.” You smile lightly, keeping up your professional visage. “I only get as much gifts and privileges as I do because of my offerings and daily devotions.” You lightly whack the messenger on his nose, not enough to hurt but enough to send a message. “Now get going, I’m sure you have other messages to deliver.”

“Right away, Cappy.” He does a mock salute before scampering off.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” You yell after him, but only hear a giggle in response. It’s clear he won’t listen to you. How could you demand respect when a messenger calls you silly names?

Sighing, you drop your shoulders and begin to slowly climb down the scaffolding and into the cold floors of Anor Londo. Luckily you chased the sinner to the closest spot where Master Gwyndolin's chambers would be, which would only be a few minutes walk.

You start your walk and twirl your shotels back into their holdings on your belt. Since you had a few minutes of downtime, you decide to dawdle on some memories.

Your memories immediately go to Master Gwyndolin and your relationship with him. It wasn’t anything romantic, but you can’t help but have the sinking suspicion that Master Gwyndolin wanted more. Could that be heresy if you thought like that? Maybe.

A few times he had sat rather close to you, stiff and rigid as if he was nervous. Of course he could sit wherever he wanted but sitting next to you all the time when he had a bunch of other places to sit was suspicious. His soft hands even kept ghosting over your knuckles at any opportunity.

All the gifts he’s given you seem… inappropriately lavish. There were a few gifts of clearly rare and expensive jewellery, which you promptly gave back to him citing an apology that you had no use for them. Some gifts seemed personalised, like a drawing he himself made. He was quite the artist.

You pass by the many stained glass windows leading down to Master Gwyndolin's chambers. Despite passing them so many times by now, they still took your breath away. So beautiful they broke your train of thought and distracted you.

The windows predicted numerous events of history or the godly family. You noted Gwynevere, Lord Gwyn, Master Gwyndolin and…? An out of place blank, clearly once broken, set of stained glass. There was a blank space, clearly Intended for someone to be there.

Nearly walking face first into the door of Master Gwyndolin makes you snap out of your pondering. You take a few steps back and clear your throat, always a bit nervous of meeting Master Gwyndolin all alone in his chambers. He seemed almost far too friendly when he was alone with you.

You rasp your knuckles against the door three times before speaking, “Master Gwyndolin, you wanted to see me?” You speak through the door and patiently await an answer.

A few moments pass and you can hear something cluttering and you swear you hear a few coughs but don’t think much of it before the all-too familiar voice answers. “Come in.” The command is simple. You grasp onto the door handles and pull, struggling a bit.

The doors open and reveal the room you’ve become accustomed to. You walk in and gently shut the door behind you before looking in front of you… to find Master Gwyndolin not there? “Master Gwyndolin? Where’ve you gone?” You take a few more cautious steps into the room, twisting your neck to look around.

But wherever you look in the dim room, you don’t find your oddly friendly saviour. You can only hear your own heartbeat and breathing. Was that ‘come in’ a hallucination? Maybe you should come back another time. You don’t want to be caught in his room if he’s not in there with you, you would look weird.

As you're about to turn around, you hear the familiar slithering of serpentine legs, but only for a moment before your world is flipped upside down, in a literal sense. You become dazed for a few seconds as you dangle upside down for a moment before suddenly being slammed down onto something soft, with a ‘pompf!’

You quickly figure out what you landed on was Master Gwyndolin's bed, soft and plushy. Something clearly strong and constricting coils itself around your legs, keeping them firmly separated. Your wrists are held behind your back by soft hands.

By instinct, you immediately begin to struggle and kick. But the constricting coils around your legs tighten, and you swear you can hear a small ‘pop’ probably from your muscles. One of the soft hands holding onto your wrists let’s go and you feel it fiddle with the straps of your armour… as if whoever it was, knew what they were doing.

“Calm thyself, dear Captain.” Master Gwyndolin's voice rings out behind you and you gasp in shock, going stiff and still. “Let this commence.” It almost sounds like he’s trying to convince you.

“Master Gwyndolin!” You nervously yell out and your face burns as he easily undoes your breastplate and leg plates as if they were nothing. “W-wait! Just what are you doing?!”

“I am bestowing mine gift upon thee.” He says, as if what he’s doing isn’t strange. “Now, dear (Name) relax thy muscles. I feel thee are tense.” He’s not wrong, your muscles are very tense as you try to close your legs.

Could this be what you think it is? But feeling his finger trace along the outline of your pussy against your tight under armour, confirms it. “Stop!” You try to protest, unsure how to feel about the blooming heat in your lower stomach. “This-This is strictly forbidden, is it not?!”

However, Gwyndolin doesn’t seem to care as he simply shushes you. “Worry not, none shall know of this.” He’s right, just who is there to hear of it and who is there to deal justice? No one. But still, you don’t know how to feel about this.

“Just a moment, please Master Gwyndolin! I need to think about this!” You let out a gasp as you feel Gwyndolin's hand rip off your undergarments, exposing the entirety of your bare pussy to the air of his large room. A shiver of cold air runs up your spine.

Gwyndolin's soft hands tease around your clit, feeling around his new territory. He doesn’t respond to your plea, a little too focused on giving his feathery touches and exploring his favourite, and only, little captain body. He can already feel himself hardening beneath his robes.

He’s been raised as a girl for so long, a ring practically forced into his finger for him to act like one. The moment he disregarded it, just weeks ago, he was flooded with hormones. The ring itself even held back hormones and lust, which came rushing back and he was aching for what felt like forever, while it was simply a few days.

“Dear captain, I beg of thee.” He starts, “nay, I demand thee.” He knows he needs to be more domineering, to demand the respect a frail god like him should have had at birth. “Help with mine ache.” He lifts up his pristine robes, letting both of his penises pop out.

You see them in the corner of your eye, they look a little strange with the top penis looking a little smaller than the one below. You can see they are also ribbed and clearly not a normal human one. You should've guessed, considering his snake legs he would probably have other snake-like attributes.

You feel as he rubs them against your pussy, already twitching from lust and want. You nibble on your lower lip for a moment, still not entirely sure about having sex with a god and your saviour at that. “Master Gwyndolin… I don't think I should help with that.”

“Please, abstain from calling me master.” His request is confusing, “I think of thee as mine equal.” His little confession is shocking. He’s full of surprises today. You feel the head of his larger penis push against your pussy, a more testing, teasing way instead of actually going in.

“But that’s-“ you can hardly find the words, feeling your body becoming even more warm and lustful. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought of Gwyndolin in ways such as this, if only just a few times, but living it out, feels wrong. “That’s not possible..”

Of course, as human, you were always taught you were lower than gods. That you were never their equal and were there to serve their society and live under their rules. So hearing a god like Gwyndolin, the direct, yet frail and sadly mostly forgotten child of Lord Gwyn, tell you that he sees you as equal feels like some form of blasphemy.

He keeps rubbing himself against your wettening pussy, coating both of his penises in your juices to lube himself and make it easier to possibly fit both into one hole. He huffs lightly, feeling the heat gathering on his face from his hormones and lust. “Thou art equal.” He says firmly, citing that little argument is over. It sounds as if he’s more excited to scratch his itch then he is to follow the rules set by his long gone father.

You watch as Gwyndolin positions himself and nervous sweat falls down your forehead. The head of the bigger penis begins to push in and you cover your mouth with your hand. It feels so strange as it begins to push in and stretch your walls. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, so you're a little sensitive.

Gwyndolin quivers as he finally feels what he’s been wanting for a while now. He has you face down and ass up, just like he wanted when he used his hand when he was particularly needy. You’re so warm and snug and he notices that you aren’t struggling anymore, actually, you haven’t struggled for a while.

He grips onto your thighs with his hands, already feeling more rushing lust and hormones flooding his frail godly body. He can hardly keep himself contained even just for a few moments. Sucking in a breath, he positions his second penis and begins to push it in.

You clench your muscles as you feel the second one push in, following the first one. The strange ribbed feelings of the penises against your walls makes you squirm in both pleasure and uncomfortableness, you just aren’t used to the feeling.

Before you have time to adjust you feel him begin to thrust, rather harshly and quickly. Your hands clench onto the bed sheets as pain flashes up your body you let out a hiss of pain. The frail god behind you leans forward and plants one of his hands next to your head to balance himself.

He keeps up with his harsh pounding, wanting to keep the throngs of pleasure running up his back. Sweat forms and drips off of his body, not used to something this intensive even if he’s only been going for hardly a minute.

You struggle lightly, the pain feeling like little pricks pushing itself into your most sensitive flesh. But Gwyndolin doesn’t notice as he continues, huffing and panting lightly. He lets out a shuddering groan, feeling how you clench around him.

Small pricks of tears sting your eyes and you have enough courage to finally speak up. “Ma-“ you catch yourself, “Gwyndolin! You’re going to- ah!- fast!” You whine.

Gwyndolin can hardly hear your whine from beyond the sound of slapping, wet skin but he does. His lusting mind gives him a moment of clarity as he sees the pain he’s inflicting, in search of his own pleasure. A small pang of guilt hits him, “ah.. mine apologies.” He slowly stops, looking down at the woman he has pinned down.

For a few moments he remains completely still before slowly exiting you, with a little ‘pop’. His snake legs unconstrict your legs and he slithers up to the bed to lay down next to you. He is clearly not done yet, perhaps he’s getting himself more comfortable?

His soft hands slowly trace your jaw as a non-verbal apology. His serpentine legs coil around yours again, but not with so harsh of a grip, only to keep your legs separated as he positions you to lay on your side. “I didst not mean to be rough.” The heads of his penises rub against your pussy again, this time, with a little more patience.

He pushes himself in again, much more gentle and patient this time. His hand that was tracing your jaw, supports your head so you can watch as he does so. Pleasant warmth runs up from your stomach instead of pain now, and Gwyndolin can see it as he watches your face and body language for signs of discomfort.

“Thou feel most pleasant.” He whispers into your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You feel him push further in and rest in the same position for a few moments, before slowly thrusting, testing the waters. He only has one in currently, but it already feels like enough.

Receiving a compliment from a god, especially Gwyndolin is near unheard of, especially in a context like this. But the little praise sends more heat rushing down to your very core, making you even more wet. Gwyndolin notices.

“Dost thou like when I praise thee?” He asks, sounding almost innocent but you know deep down, he most definitely isn’t.

You know you can’t hide it, especially with his little thrusts pumping into you. Why lie? You both deserve this pleasure do you not? “Ah… w-well, I do In fact…” you shyly admit and hear Gwyndolin let out a little chuckle.

“My, what strange liking humans do possess.” As a god, he doesn’t really understand humans but lately he’s been trying. “But I will humour thee. Thou deserve praise.”

He feels himself becoming more needy but he knows he must be patient. The coiling snakes lightly clench, reflecting his struggles to keep slow and steady. You let a moan slip past your lips. “What a wonderful sound..” Gwyndolin lightly teases.

You avert your gaze as your face turns more red than a tomato. Gwyndolin lightly speeds up, still with only one cock inside. The ribbed texture and strange biology of him rub against your walls pleasantly, hitting against all the right spots.

“Thou taketh me well.” He rubs your shoulder with his hand before moving down to run up the side of your stomach and circle around your breast. “Every part of thy body must be blessed.” He praises just how beautiful he thinks you are.

You shiver with delight, a response Gwyndolin wants. He positions his second cock to begin to slowly push in as he feels you're stretched and relaxed enough. As he pushes in, he notices your face scrunch lightly. “Shh, shh.” He gently shushes you, “only a little more. We art almost there.”

You let out little huffs of pain, though minor. His hands massage your sides as he whispers into your ear, sending more tingles down your pack from his words and breath in your ear. “Good..good.. Thou’rt truly worthy of mine affection.”

With some effort, he finally sheathes both of his cocks fully in. You feel rather stuffed having two inside of you at once, but it also feels great. He keeps himself still for a minute before you speak up, “Y-you can move now.”

“Please, tell me if I cause thee any pain.” He says before starting to slowly thrust, watching as your face contorts lightly with pleasure. Gwyndolin smiles, seeing and feeling exactly what he wants from you. The scales on his snakes acting as his legs, slowly move up and down your leg, sending goosebumps running down your legs.

“Faster, please..” your voice is low but sounds so loud in the dim room. He does as you say and thrusts a little faster, a tiny bulge appearing on the bottom of the stomach every time he thrusts in from the combined girth of his two cocks.

Gwyndolin almost bucks his hips, wanting more. But he’s near satisfied with the pleasure he’s getting from the modest thrusts. He’s had many give up their bodies in offerings, he’s accepted a few but until now, he never felt attached. You were different, you spent your devotion with hard work and unknowingly caught his heart.

“If thou wouldst let me..” he takes a moment to huff and groan with delight. “I’d want to show thee off, as mine consort.” He knows what he wants, his lusting mind didn’t make this decision for him. He had already made it when he was normal. “Thy beauty could rival goddesses.”

If he said that when he was so deep in the laws his family imposed, he would immediately feel guilt. But ever since he discarded the illusion that kept Anor Londo in its golden statue and threw away the reversal ring, he started not to care all too much.

You can hardly react to the proposal, still focused on his thrusting cocks, pressing up against your g-spot, sending aching waves of pleasure coursing through you. The ribbed texture really helped with adding to it.

“Gw-Gwyndolin.. I…” you try to begin, finally hearing what he said. Do you truly deserve the hand of a god, one as mighty as him? What were you talking about? Of course you did. “I’ll gladly accept.”

His lips meet yours immediately after you accept, his hands intertwined into yours and his thrusts become a bit sloppy and faster. His sweaty skin sticking to yours, the heat building between both of you.

His cocks ache and twitch, leaking pre-cum. He lightly bites on your bottom lip to get you to open your mouth and he immediately pushes his tongue in, feeling around your mouth before meeting your tongue.

Everything is overwhelming to him and you. Everything is warm, everything feels like bliss. Your muscles clench around him as you feel a knot suddenly tie itself and in seconds, release itself. You orgasm on his cocks, coating them with your juices. You moan loudly into the kiss and you feel Gwyndolin shutter.

A few sloppy thrusts is all he needs to reach his own orgasm. He thrusts as far as he can, and finally releases himself deep inside you. He shoots ropes of cum into your depths, the warmth feeling so pleasant inside of you. He doesn’t care what could happen if he finished inside you, he wanted a better family anyways.

Finally letting off, he removes his lips from yours, breathing heavily with a string of thick, shiny saliva connecting your lips. Your skin glistens with sweat from exhaustion and your head swims with light headedness and dissipating lust.

“I knew thou couldst do it…” Gwyndolin huffs out, a small rasp in his voice from exhaustion. “Thou never disappoint me.” He places a gentle kiss on your cheek, so happy to finally have what he wants.

You weakly smile at Gwyndolin, recovering from your intense orgasm. “I..I suppose I never let you down have I?” You lightly laugh and he does so too.

“No, thou has not.” He shuffles around to get himself more comfortable and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him so he can cuddle. “Have thy rest now..” his hands reach to fidget with your hair, to lull you asleep faster.

You don’t give no protests and let your heavy eyelids droop before fully shutting and sending you off to the land of dreams. You don’t feel it when Gwyndolin slides a ring on your finger.

—————-

In the outskirts of Anor Londo, you sit atop a tower, your face in your hands. How.. just how could this happen? You were supposed to stop it, supposed to save Gwyndolin, your master and secret lover.

You and Gwyndolin had kept your relationship a secret from the other Blades, and only planned to reveal it in a few days as you were testing the waters to see how they would react. But that day would never come.

Tears fall from your eyes, just how long have you been grieving the loss of Gwyndolin? It feels like forever now, but it was probably only a few weeks. Your tears hardly survive the cold of Anor Londo, becoming frozen after just a few seconds.

Your shotels, once so loved and decorated now lay next to you, both of their blades shattered and now useless. You tried to defend Gwyndolin as hard as you could, but he suddenly yelled at you, telling you to run and not giving you a choice to protest as he physically shoved out from the cathedral.

He shut the door the moment he shoved you out, trapping him and that.. that disgusting slime in the cathedral together, but keeping it from getting to you. To save you, he had to sacrifice himself to the horrible thing.

That tall man that came along with it had found you when Gwyndolin threw you out. But no matter how hard you fought, he wouldn’t go down and he was the one who put you up here. Was it deliberate that he put you on a tower facing the windows of the cathedral? Why would someone be so cruel?

You sigh heavily, feeling yourself hollowing day by day. You aren’t even sure if the other Blades had survived the attack on the cathedral, you hadn’t seen them at all. But you supposed you were happy they weren’t there to witness what happens to their Master.

Tap tap tap..

Footsteps catch your attention and you lift your head, expecting to see the tall figure, here to possibly mock you for your failure. But instead, you're met with the armoured face of an Ashen One.

You didn’t really understand the ashes, were they undead like you? They could revive like you, do the majority of the same stuff as you. But they took embers instead of humanities and didn’t look like a raisin if they didn’t have any. You might as well be the last undead.

“Oh…” you begin, your voice weak and strained from crying and underuse of saying actual words. “How did you get up here?” You ask but quickly disregard any answer, “Nevermind, it’s not important I suppose…”

The Ashen One almost seems to pity you as they poke your shoulder, wanting to talk more.

“What do you want? If you want the convent Blades of the Darkmoon, I’m sorry to say but it’s gone now..” your heart hurts just saying it.

They shake their head and point to their helmet where their eyes should be, they were asking why you cried.

“My tears are not for me…” you sniffle, used to being so strong and resilient. “They are for my dearest, Gwyndolin.” You don’t care if this ash learns of your relationship, who would they tell them to?

You see how they patiently await for more words and you sigh heavily. “The covenant is not what you seek?” You ask, not very interested.

They shake their head, ‘no’. They point with their sword to you and then to them. You still don’t get what they are instigating as you raise your eyebrow, trying to be scary.

“You want to fight me?” You ask and they shake their head no. “What a shame, death would be much appreciated.” You say, being rather melodramatic.

The ash suddenly points their sword to your pouch and you finally realise what they want, they want your souls. “My souls huh? Well I’m not giving them up easily…” you flubber your lips.

The Ashen One makes gestures, much like pleading. You sigh again, “if you do something for me I will grant you my souls.” The offer immediately perks up the ashen one.

They patiently await in front of you, waiting for their instructions. “Go into the cathedral. Kill Aldrich and free my dearest Gwyndolin. Then, I will give you my souls.”

“Oh gods… please kill Aldirch..” you begin to mumble, unable to tear your eyes from the windows of the cathedral. From here, you can see every bit of carnage and abuse that Gwyndolin's upper body is suffering from Aldirchs consumption. It’s like a cruel prank.

You had to listen as Gwyndolin was first consumed by Aldrich, you still remember his pained and fearful screams. The crunch of his bones in the ‘mouth’ of the beast. You could hear him struggle to breathe, to talk.

Even then you weren’t spared the gory details as you watched from your tower and into the large windows. You can only sit and watch as Gwyndolin is abused and defamed of his status as a god. Thrown around and slammed on the ground by Aldrich in attempts to silence and quell his spurts of struggles.

Until, you can see that Gwyndolin no longer has his mind anymore, as he just hangs there like a limp, hollow body. If you tried to go there, you know he’d try to kill you. It wasn’t him anymore, it was all Aldrich.

“He’s puppeting Gwyndolin like a puppet, even when he’s alive. He’s evil. I can hardly say more… just kill Adlrich.” You practically beg with the ash. The ash gives you a thumbs up, before suddenly turning and disappearing.

You put your face back into your hands and resume your pitiful sobs. Could you even save Gwyndolin by now? Does he remember you? Aldrich probably destroyed the memories of Gwyndolin, and that hurts more than a broken bone.

Now all you can do, is pray and hope that Aldirch is defeated and Gwyndolin is either alive or granted the mercy of death.

——————

Unfortunately it was the latter. The ashen one came back, a finger held in his grasp. Like another cruelty from the world, it was the finger that Gwyndolin wore the ring that you and he had matching. It’s skinny and slightly rotted. You can hardly imagine what he went through.

You hold out your hands to accept the finger, trembling horribly as the ashen one gives it to you. “Oh…” you can hardly speak, “no…no…” your voice breaks at the end of your words, threatening to spill forth more cries.

Slowly, you close your hands around the finger and bring it to your chest. You don’t care for the ashen one watching and you start to weep again, fresh, hot tears spilling from your tired eyes. In your very soul, you feel the beginnings of hollowing. You can’t stop it now, you can only wait until it turns you.

The Ashen One reaches out, wanting to get their end of the deal. You flick your puffy eyes to them and anger flashes through you, “take it!” You want to be left alone by now as you clip the pouch of souls and harshly throw it at the Ashen One.

“Leave me!” You screech at the startled ash. “Get out of here!” Your command is abided by as the Ashen One turns and leaves, somehow going off the tower. You don’t see how they do it but you don’t care.

Now alone, you gently rock yourself back and forth. Your heart and very soul aches in grief and pain. This was it, the only remaining piece of your beloved, a bony, wretched finger. Everything you worked for, the covenant, your position, your lover, gone completely down the drain like it was nothing.

Your chest feels like it will cave in on itself and take your soul with it. It’s pain like you’ve never felt before, but you knew that it was the agony of hollowing. You can see your skin beginning to sag and rapidly age as your undead properties betray you.

You knew what hollowing looked like, and it truly wasn’t pretty. Sunken in faces, rotted, sagging skin and blacked out eyes. It made you shiver, remembering your friends from your undead journey from so long ago and how they all went hollow. But you suppose, the bitter sweetness of this whole thing. In death you will be reunited with Gwyndolin and reunited with old friends.

So you hoped that you would. Do gods go to different places when they die? Will you be forever separated from Gwyndolin? Even after death. The thought strikes fear into your hollowing heart but the fear is short lived. You don’t feel it anymore. Your brain that is, as it turns itself off and you become hollow.

~~~~~|

(A/N updated July 1st 2024: I just made the ending better. I made the first ending when I was literally falling asleep <3.)

Chapter Text

Content: Requested Alt Ending :3. Good ending. YORSHKA HAS BEEN SAVED FROM RETCON HELL!! Angst 3.

You stand atop the highest vantage point of the ever cold Anor Londo, keeping watch. Beside you, sits Yorshka in her chair. You wonder how she isn’t freezing with how thin her dress is, but she appears half-dragon so you put together it’s probably the dragon side keeping her warm.

It’s been a while since you took Yorshka under your wing, training her to be the new Captain at the event of your hollowing or untimely death. Gwyndolin often told you not to speak of such things, you expect it makes him worried when you talk of you possibly dying.

You and Gwyndolin had been in your little secret relationship for nearly a year now. You were the one that suggested that you kept the relationship on a down low, so the other members wouldn’t think Gwyndolin was playing favourites or giving you an unfair advantage. It could be bad for the morale and loyalty of the Blades.

Yorshka had come into both of your lives when she was found by a Blade patrol and brought to Gwyndolin, who consulted with you first before essentially adopting her. You loved Yorshka like your own daughter, which she technically is. Yorshka was the only one that knew of your relationship with Gwyndolin, and she said she sees you and him as her parents. That made your heart melt.

“Mum?” Yorshka turns to you. She has referred to you as her mother lately and you don’t dare to correct her.

“Yes?” You respond, wondering what she would want.

“What are we doing upon this tower?” She asks. You were the one that brought her here, instructing her to bring a chair as she would be here for a while.

“Ah, I’m simply training you for when you succeed me and become captain.” You say proudly, already imagining how good of a captain she would be.

“Hmm..” she idly says, looking around before speaking again. “Forgive me, but I do not see the purpose.” She says, confused on how this helps her.

“Well, being a captain is doing all the fun and ‘cool’ stuff. That’s what you think, right?” You ask and Yorshka nods. “While some stuff is rather great, there’s also the downsides, the boring stuff. Like this, keeping watch.” You explain.

“Ah, I see now!” She says, smiling and her dragon tail even wagging lightly. You thought that was cute. “Though.. there are few things to see.” She was right about that. Anor Londo no longer bustled with many sinners or things to do. It was a shell of its former self.

“Yeah.. it’s boring isn’t it?” You see Yorshka nod in agreement. “How about…hmm..” you look around, trying to find something to quell Yorksha’s, and your own, boredom. Your eyes wander over the once majestic Anor Londo, many of its former buildings collapsed or completely gone.

Ah! You know just what to talk about. “How about I tell you about the Anor Londo that I saw when I first joined the blades.” You propose to Yorshka and she happily nods, nudging closer to hear you better.

“Well when I first came here, I had quite the encounter.” You begin to spin your story, leaving out the more gory details. Luckily, by now you don’t flinch or reel back in remembering just how painful it was.

As you continue, you see Yorshka enthralled by your story and even more excited when you told her how you met Gwyndolin. Even how you became a captain through years of hard work and dedication.

You talk and talk, more focused on telling your story now that you don’t notice Yorshka has turned to stare at something a ways away. “And that’s how I got into a relationship with Gwyndolin.” You finish up, leaving the mature part out and replacing it with just a friendly talk between friends.

“Yorshka?” You wonder why she hasn’t talked and you look at her, immediately noticing the concerned face and her looking off into the distance. “Is something the matter?”

“I see something.” She says in a whisper, as if anything could hear both of you from all the way up here. You almost forgot that you were supposed to be on watch duty, you were proud of Yorshka for keeping watch even when you were distracted.

You turn to look over the ledge, looking where she is looking. Squinting your eyes to get a better look. It takes a few moments before your vision focuses on a tall figure, with something blobby following it. A horrid feeling runs through your spine.

“Yorshka.” Your voice turns serious and you place a hand on Yorshaks shoulder, “go inside and to your room.” You reach to your sides to pull out one of your Shotels, gripping it intensely.

Yorshka immediately follows your command, getting up out of her chair and quickly running off down the winding stairs of the tall tower. You don’t want to put Yorshka in danger, you would never forgive yourself.

You lean over the railing, trying to get a better look at what is approaching. Your heart jumps as you recognize the tall figure. “Sulyvahn…” you practically hissed. You never trusted Sulyvahn ever since he came to the Blades and joined, clawing his way through the ranks until he was just below you.

Sulyvahn rubbed you the wrong way. Even if he kept proving himself time and time again, you always had the sneaking suspicion that he was planning something. Maybe this was your proof you could give to Gwyndolin and finally have permission to cut Sulyvahn down.

Your doubts and suspicions had been piling up recently. Gwyndolin had been getting increasingly sick and weak, and anytime that Sulyvahn visited him with tea or ‘medicine,’ Gwyndolin just seemed to get worse. By now, he’s nearly bedridden and you have to help him walk around.

Sulyvahn was just… too perfect and you hated him. You hear the rushing footsteps of two younger blades running up beside you, most likely warned and told to meet with you by Yorshka. You appreciated the gesture.

“Stay by me.” You command and the Blades nod. You jump up onto the railings before jumping off and the two Blades follow after you. You fall a great distance and slam on the ground, kicking up piles of snow. You were taught a small sorcery to negate all fall damage when you began your journey as an undead. You found it of great use, so you taught it to the other Blades.

As you land, you catch the attention of Sulyvahn and he does a wave motion. You straighten your back and look at him, a brow raising in confusion. Where did that blob that was following him go? You could have sworn something was on his tail, were you just hallucinating?

“Sulyvahn…” you coldly greet him. “Where are you returning from? I thought I sent you on patrol with another Blade? Where are they?” You raise your brow and await his answer. You're still above him in rank, so you expect the honest truth.

Sulyvahn’s shoulders tense up when you speak to him and he takes a moment to respond. “I’m returning from the patrol. The one you sent with me came back early, that is why I am alone.” You never really got used to hearing his deep, gravelly voice.

“You know the front entrance isn’t where you come back.” You say, knowing that you ordered every Blade to come in at a certain bridge. It was only to keep track with everyone and ensure everyone came back. It was hard to make sure all the blades were alright if they came back at different places.

“I had an urgent item to deliver to Master Gwyndolin.” He says, holding something out for you to see. It’s a vial, dark purple and little bubbles float through it. “It is his medicine.”

His medicine? A bad feeling runs down your back but you don’t want to accuse Sulyvahn. “And where did you get this medicine?” You ask, your face stern.

“I visited a… friend. He is an avid and talented doctor.” Sulyvahn falters for a moment and that’s all the evidence you need that he’s up to something. Before you can ask to take the vial, Sulyvahn speaks again. “Excuse me, Captain. But Master Gwyndolin needs his medicine.”

He tries to walk past you but you don’t let him pass as you step in his way. “Hmm, yes he does. How about I follow you, hmm? I was going to see Master Gwyndolin myself.” You know he can’t reject you and you see how tense he gets.

Sulyvahn lets out a frustrated sigh and mutters ‘yes, Captian’ under his breath and walks by you. You stop for a moment to look at the two Blades positioned beside you and you whisper to them. “Go on watch. There might be something hiding here.”

The Blades nod and position themselves in a more secretive corner, where they can keep watch and not be seen. Looking back one last time, you swear you could see something black and slime move around. You follow after Sulyvahn moments after and catch up to him, walking by his side. You side eye Sulyvahn, looking at the vial in his hands.

You both walk in silence through the large palace, passing through exquisite hallways with that stained glass. You still wondered what the gap in one of the glasses was for but never asked. The hating tension festered like a bleeding wound between you and Sulyvahn. You had a sinking feeling that he knew about your suspicions.

Coming up to the familiar door of Gwyndolin's chamber, you take the liberty to knock on the door and wait. A few seconds later, you hear a weak and rattling cough before a muffled ‘come in’ follows. You push open the door and walk in first, not caring to hold the door for Sulyvahn.

You look at the sad state Gwyndolin is in. Bedridden and coughing horribly, with a clear fever and simply struggling to breathe. You’ve spent many nights just cuddling with him, providing him with comfort. You and him were glad what he had wasn’t contagious, otherwise you’d be as bad as him.

Sulyvahn walks in after you, nearly hit by the door. He takes a small bow and addresses Gwyndolin. “Master Gwyndolin, I have come with your medicine.” He walks to the bedside where he sets down the vial on Gwyndolin's nightstand before popping off its cork and pouring it into his cup of warm tea.

“My thanks, Sulyvahn.” Gwyndolin says, his voice weak and raspy. “Thou’rt a loyal Blade…” he coughs for a few moments afterwards and you rush to his side, knowing how fragile he’s becoming.

“Try not to talk too much, I’m sure Sulyvahn needs no praise. His actions are good enough for him.” You talk to Gwyndolin and he weakly nods. “And I’m sure Sulyvahn has duties he needs to attend to.” You glare at Sulyvahn so he gets the hint.

Sulyvahn takes another bow and dismisses himself. “I must take my leave, get well soon. Master Gwyndolin.” He turns and leaves from the room, softly closing the door behind him.

You turn your attention back to Gwyndolin. “How are you feeling today?” You ask, your voice soft and laced with a tone of concern.

His warm hands come to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb on it in a soothing motion. “Fret not, mine health is..” he coughs, “steadying..” he’s right about that, he can speak more but you're still worried and it’s evident with how your brows knit together.

“I suppose it is…” you rest your head on his lap, enjoying his warm touch. “When was the last time you stood up?” You haven’t seen him move from his bed in a while by now. Maybe some physical activity will help him.

He thinks for a moment. “I fear I’ve not taken a step in…” he pauses, “many days.” He coughs again before he can continue. “I’ve grown too weak.” He sounds almost dejected but still tries to keep up his healthy facade.

You decide that maybe physical activity is too much for his weak body right now, so you throw the idea out. “How about some medicine?” You say and he weakly nods. You stand and walk over to the nightstand on the other side of the bed and look at the cup of tea.

The liquid in the tea is a dark purple, mixing with the light brown contents. Whatever Sulyvahn put in there, you didn’t trust it. But you didn’t want to deny Gwyndolin his medicine right in front of him. “Your tea got cold, I’ll get you a new one.” You say and pick up the cup. “Warm liquids are better for you when you're sick.”

“I suppose thee are right…” Gwyndolin says. “Return hastily, if thou can..” with that, he turns his head to rest on his fluffy pillow. He’s simply exhausted from speaking and that breaks your heart. He’s a far cry from the divine god that was your saviour.

You take your leave with the tea and to the nearest kitchen, which is only a minute's walk away. You focus on not spilling a drop, wanting to examine just what ‘medicine’ Sulyvahn put in Gwyndolin's tea.

You walk into the kitchen. The kitchen is covered in dust and clearly, hardly used. It most likely hasn’t seen a single meal prepared in its walls in near centuries. You walk to a dusty sink and blow away the layer coating it.

With your high-ranking position, you’ve come to be all too familiar with poisons. To the point you can practically sniff them out or just a single drop on your tongue, you can tell which poison it is. Many times, many tried to poison you and a few times you nearly succumbed.

Taking the tea, you sniff the liquid and reel back. ‘What the hell was that?!’ You mentally shout, wondering what the strange, almost rotting smell that came from the tea. Whatever was in there, clearly wasn’t safe for consumption.

Taking a deep breath, you know what you have to do to confirm your suspicions. You dip your index finger into the tea and hesitantly bring it to your lips, tasting the liquid. Almost immediately you spit it out in disgust and realisation.

It was poison. And by the taste of it, poison strong enough to weaken and possibly kill a god like Gwyndolin. No wonder Gwyndolin got worse every time Sulyvahn visited him. You nearly drop the cup but you manage to catch it, putting it on the side of the sink to keep as evidence.

Sulyvahn was trying to poison Gwyndolin. What could he possibly gain from hurting him? That didn’t matter now, all that mattered was getting to Gwyndolin, warning him and issuing Sulyvahn's immediate execution.

The door to the kitchen suddenly slams open and a Blade, wounded with what appears to be fragments of bone and disgusting black sludge caked on their armour. They cough violently before shouting. “We’re being attacked! Sulyvahn has led a monster into the cathedral!”

You rush up to the Blade, catching them before they collapse from exhaustion. “Thank you for warning me. Rest here, I’ll deal with this.” You say quickly and lay them down to rest on the wall.

Grabbing onto your shotels, many plans run through your mind. You need to warn Gwyndolin and get him and Yorshka somewhere safe. But Gwyndolin was far too weak to stand and Yorshka was nearly across the palace in her room.

You rush out of the kitchen and nearly fly down the hallway and to Gwyndolin's room. You slam open the door and startle poor Gwyndolin awake. “Gwyndolin! Sulyvahn has betrayed us!” You rush to his bedside.

“Wh- he has..?” He struggles to find any words before he clears his throat. “He has…help me to stand, wouldst thou?” He reaches out to hold onto you. “I shall bestow justice upon him, mineself.” You recognize that old tone of determination in his words.

“Gwyndolin, you're far too weak to fight.” You say, concerned while you help Gwyndolin stand. His weight is great as your knees buckle but the adrenaline flowing through your veins helps you keep him up. “Let me take you somewhere safe, I’ll fight Sulyvahn myself.”

“Take me to the cathedral.” He ignores your concern and demands you. Even if he is your lover, you still follow his demands. You decide not to argue with him as he uses you as a support and you begin to walk out of his room.

He hissed with pain and exhaustion with every step you take and every second he stands, you get more worried for him. You walk through the hallways and down the many stairs, the sound of an ongoing fight and screams reaching your ears.

The Cathedral was getting closer by the minute and the horrid smell of rotting flesh and blood was just getting stronger. Whatever monster that Sulyvahn let in, it sure is beastly. You wonder how you’ll get Yorshka safely out of here along with Gwyndolin, who still wants to fight.

Coming around the corner, you step down the final stair and immediately regret it as you step into what you can only guess is liquefied, rotted and black flesh. A gross shiver runs up your spine and you feel queasy. You notice fragments of old bone floating in the mass and shiver again.

You look up and notice the giant blob in the centre of the room. “What in the Darkmoon…” you whisper out. On your side, you feel Gwyndolin shift to stand on his own. You instinctively reach out to hold him again but he puts his arm up to block you.

“I do not need thee help.” He says, breathing ragged. “Go. Find Yorshka, flee from Anor Londo. Worry not for me.” He clearly puts this as a no-discussion.

“No, Gwyndolin. I need to help you.” You try to argue but Gwyndolin's gaze hardens, his brows knitting together. His crown, resembling the sun, had been left in his room for it was far too heavy for him to support with his weakened state.

“Thou see it fit to reject mine orders?” You can clearly see he’s getting mad. “I love thee, thou know'st that.” He reaches down to hold your hands in his. “I do not wish to see thee hurt. Please, do not fight. Take Yorshka and flee.” He says, trying to keep his composure. The stress of the situation giving him a temper.

If Gwyndolin wasn’t in imminent danger you would have listened to him, would’ve taken Yorshka and fled. But you can’t just leave him. By now, you’ve made up your mind. “Gwyndolin, I’m sorry but I will not follow that order.” You make yourself stern, even when Gwyndolin's face changes into anger.

You suddenly feel Gwyndolin's coiling snakes start to push you. “Wh- Gwyndolin!” You shout out as he moves his arms to push you further, towards the open doors of the cathedral. You see other Blades crowding the blob monster and attempting to fight Sulyvahn, most of them being thrown around like rag dolls. You can’t just leave Gwyndolin and the blades to be practically eaten alive.

You move out of the way and turn to face Gwyndolin. “Listen, be mad all you want!” You shout, pointing and poking him in the chest. “Yell at me! Hate me! But I’m not listening to that order!” You angrily mutter for a moment before yelling again. “I want to fight! I really do! But I can see it, why can’t you? We aren’t winning this fight, not me, not you, not any of these blades.”

You see how Gwyndolin's face softens as he looks almost regretful and you interrupt him before he can speak. “Gwyndolin, you're sick and weak. Our numbers of blades are dwindling by the day. I cannot take on both of them at once.” You grasp onto his hand. “We all have to run. I know you don’t want too, but we can come back, I promise. We’ll come back when we’re stronger and when we know we can take them both down.”

Gwyndolin bites on his bottom lip, his eyes flicking down as guilt shrouds his face. His hands squeeze yours as he contemplates his options. He’s sick, weak and everything is piled against him and you. Even he knows just how stubborn you can be. With a heavy sigh, his eyes flick to yours and he nods. “Find Yorshka, we shall leave together.” He places a quick kiss on your forehead. “Go with haste, I shall fend the heretics away for as long as I can.”

You nod and squeeze his hand one last time before turning tail and running across the cathedral. You see in the corner of your eye, the blades and Gwyndolin fighting together. Even if Gwyndolin is weakened, he is still a god. Arrows rain down on Sulyvahn and the slimy beast. The many blades rushing them keep them away from Gwyndolin.

Reaching the other end of the cathedral, you hop onto an elevator and ride it up. Yorshka’s room was across the palace from here, so you couldn’t waste any time. You jump off the elevator the moment it stops at the top and you practically bolt down many hallways and up winding stairs.

The hallways blur in your vision. You practically feel no exhaustion from all the adrenaline in your system, even after running up multiple flights of stairs. Your heart beats against your chest as you race against the clock. You don’t know where you’ll go when you get Yorshka and return to Gwyndolin, but you know it must be somewhere safe and far, far away from here.

The family you’ve built with Gwyndolin will not be taken from you so prematurely, that you know. You won’t have Yorshka, your daughter and Gwyndolin, your dearest. Ripped from you so early, by a disgusting slug and a horrid betrayer that is Sulyvahn.

You turn a corner so harshly you nearly break your ankle but you don’t care. You’ve made it into the hallway where Yorshka’s room was and you can see the door just at the end of the hall. You waste no time and use a burst of energy to get to the door and slam it open, startling Yorshka.

“My goodness!” Yorshka says, putting a hand over her heart in surprise. “Thou’rt in a rush.” She smiles, “what for?” You can tell she has no idea what’s happening. You don’t want to terrify her but you know that isn’t an option at the moment.

You rush up to Yorshka and take her hand, roughly lifting her up. “Yorshka we have to go.” You say sternly. “Pack as many things as you can, we aren’t coming back for a bit. Go, go quick quick!” You try to rush her but you see the panic flood in her eyes and your heart aches.

“Mother, w-where art we going? Is Gwyndolin coming?” Her voice is trembling and her eyes become shiny with welling tears of fear. Her hands hold onto yours, shaking with fear. “Why must we leave?”

“Yorshka, please!” You grab onto her shoulders, “there’s no time for questions, I’ll answer everything when we are safe.” Your nails lightly dig into her skin and she flinches. “Just do as I say! Get everything you can!”

Yorshka’s eyes become glassy as little tears drop down her cheeks and she reels her hands in, as if she’s scared of you and she takes a step back. Your heart drops as you can practically feel it breaking, your daughter was scared of you.

“Y-Yorshka..” you say, your voice low and almost scared. She backs away again and almost flinches, as if she expects you to raise your voice. “Please, Yorshka… I didn’t mean to get upset.” You reach out for her but she backs up, keeping away from your touch.

Yorshka’s tail coils around her legs and she lifts it to hold it into her hands. Something you only saw her do when she was greatly frightened, and that was only once and you understood that time. That time, she was afraid of the blades that freshly brought her in and that was the time she didn’t know you as her adoptive mother. But this time, she knows you, and is afraid of you.

Everything feels like it’s falling apart. If you don’t get Yorshka to Gwyndolin soon, you’re sure Gwyndolin and the blades will be defeated. But you can’t rush your apology either. You were stuck and you hardly knew how to get out of it.

It feels like your throat is closing up and you can feel that familiar burning of your nose and eyes… you were beginning to cry. The thought of Yorshka, being so terrified of you, had hurt far more than any blade or fist could. Did you really have to be so rough with her? You're sure you had too, there was such little time to waste. You try to justify it, but a parent can’t justify hurting their child.

You swallow a cry and speak, your voice breaking and trembling. “I didn’t- I’m sorry I-…” you struggle to find the words as you let out a shaky breath, the constricting feeling on your throat getting worse. “I didn’t.. mean to be so rough.” You begin, watching her reaction but she still seems so frightened. “I’m just so scared… but that’s no reason to hurt you, Yorshka.”

Yorshka looks at you a bit confused, just what could her mother, the captain of the blades be so terrified of? But she was still tentative on even speaking as more tears sting her eyes. You take a moment to speak again, trying not to burst into tears. “You don’t have to forgive me… I understand if you won’t and if you don’t want to talk to me.” You feel so weak, like how weak you felt when you first ventured into Anor Londo and was attacked.

“I’m so sorry, Yorshka.” You apologise. “I’ll tell you here and now, but it’s frightening.” You slowly reach to hold onto one of her hands, and by the luck of the moon she lets you hold onto one. “The reason we have to leave, we’re in great danger, Yorshka. If you're hurt, if-if anything happens to you or Gwyndolin.” You scrunch your eyes shut and choke back an agonised weep. “I wouldn’t be able to continue, I’d hollow and…” you can’t keep it together anymore.

Tears break through the resistant barrier you tried to block them with. Your head falls and slackens as you weep, so stressed out and so terrified. Every second that passes feels like agony for your little family, even if Yorshka truly isn’t your daughter, even if Gwyndolin is a god, paired with a mortal like you. They are still your family, and you can never imagine hurting them or letting them get hurt. But you did just that. You hurt Yorshka and you let Gwyndolin get poisoned. You were a horrible mother and horrible spouse.

Will you ever see Yorshka grow up? Will you ever see Gwyndolin happy and healthy again? As radiant as the moon he represents? Will you and them even survive through this cursed night- your thoughts are halted suddenly as you feel familiar hands holding onto yours and you look up, your eyes shining with tears.

“Mother…” Yorshka says, clearly concerned and scared but not scared of you anymore. Scared of what’s scaring you. “I accept thine apology, I know thee hast not meant to hurt me.” She struggles to smile, still overwhelmed with emotions at seeing you so vulnerable. Something she’s not used to seeing. “I shall pack, wouldst thou help me?”

“Y-yes…yes, I’ll help you.” Your voice trembles horribly and cracks. You can’t keep yourself still and you suddenly enveloped Yorshka in a tight hug. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I don’t mean to put all this we-weight on you.” You keep her in the tight embrace and you feel her recuperate, wrapping her small arms around you too.

You reluctantly let go, “let’s pack, we have to make it quick. I’m not sure how long Gwyndolin can fend off Sulyvahn and that monster much longer.” You say and turn, walking to Yorshka’s drawer and ripping it open, taking as much clothes as possible.

“S-Sulyvahn? Monster?” Yorshka says, confused as she follows you and picks up the clothes. She holds the clothes in her arms, having nothing else to hold them in.

“There’s much to discuss once we’re somewhere safe, but I promise I’ll tell you every single thing.” You say to Yorshka and finish taking the clothes. You turn and notice Yorshka is struggling to hold onto her clothes. “Oh, let me get that.” You take a good load of clothes and hold them with one hand.

“Come on, we have to go.” You put your hand on her back and begin to lead her out of the room in a hurry. She struggles to keep up with your long strides and quick movement but she does so with some help from you.

The stench of rot reaches your nose again and you struggle not to gag in front of Yorshka. You can tell Yorshka smells it too as her hold on your hand tightens and she coughs from the smell. You rush onto the elevator with Yorshka and prepare to make a run for it when you get down.

“Yorshka, we’re going to have to run once this elevator reaches the bottom.” You explain the plan to her as quickly as possible. “Gwyndolin will follow us. Don’t look back, just keep running Yorshka. If I fall, just run Yorshka. Don’t try to help, don’t ever look back.” You can tell just how scared Yorshka is as she trembles horribly.

The elevator reaches the bottom and you run onto the sludge, holding Yorshka’s hand and practically dragging her along with you. The sludge slows you down but you don’t care. You hear the sounds of battle and you see it as you run into the ruined cathedral. The beautiful pillars knocked down, nearly every blade, lying dead in the sludge. Only a few have survived for this long, just two and they weren’t going to hold on for long. Moments after, you see them meet their end by Sulyvahn's blade.

You see Gwyndolin still fighting the sludge monster and Sulyvahn at the same time. It appears Sulyvahn had turned his attention entirely to Gwyndolin to try and overwhelm him with his strength and the monster.

“Gwyndolin!” You yell out, getting his attention. He quickly turns to face you and his face lights up with relief, seeing you and Yorshka. He turns around to block an attack from Sulyvahn, more focused on keeping himself alive. He quickly motions for you and Yorshka to continue running.

You trudge through the sludge with Yorshka, trying to keep her distracted from the fight. You suddenly hear a pained and horribly familiar cry and you turn, seeing Gwyndolin slashed by Sulyvahn's sword. You quickly turn to Yorshka, “Yorshka go! Run! I need to help Gwyndolin!”

She abides, albeit reluctantly and begins to make her way to the large doors of the cathedral. You run as fast and as hard as you can up to Sulyvahn, your shotels already held in your angered grip as you rush him. Just as you're about to slash Sulyvahn, he suddenly turns around and blocks your attack.

The attack may have missed but you took his attention from Gwyndolin, and that’s what you wanted. “Mutiny…. And heresy, what a waste of breath you are.” You say to Sulyvahn as you attempt to attack again. “I’ll slit your throat, death is better than living as a sinner.”

Sulyvahn only laughs as he holds you in a stalemate with his blade for a few more moments. He suddenly kicks your stomach, sending you back a few feet. You don’t have time to get up as Sulyvahn charges again and you roll out of the way, dodging his blade by a hair.

You don’t want to extend the battle much further, knowing you're outmatched but you just need to keep it going until both Gwyndolin and Yorshka are out safely. In the corner of your eye, you see Gwyndolin slowly backing from the slimy monster. He was faster than it was luckily and could easily outrun it, even weak and sick.

Sulyvahn nearly turns his attention from you but you keep it by slashing at his chest, leaving a bleeding wound seeping through his clothes. Your shotels could easily rend into flesh and cause profuse bleeding, that you were grateful for. You inspect your shotels for a moment and notice a crack forming in one of them, that wasn’t good at all.

You keep up with the fight with Sulyvahn for far longer than you expect. Gwyndolin has nearly reached the cathedral doors and his arrows coat the disgusting hide of the slime beast. You can tell that the beast is slowly dying as it slows down and struggles greatly.

Sulyvahn suddenly takes advantage from your distraction and grabs onto you, lifting you by the throat. “I had great plans for you, captain.” His grip feels like it’s breaking your neck. “But your misguided loyalties can’t be broken… what a shame.” He roughly shakes you for a moment to try and quell your struggling. “I’ll save you from your uselessness, by killing you and your little freak of a daughter. And having Aldrich, consume Gwyndolin.”

Sweat drips down your forehead as you struggle to breathe. Your mind begins to haze as the lack of oxygen begins to get to you. Darkness starts to close in on your eyes and you become weaker, dropping your un-cracked shotel. Before you can slip into unconsciousness, Sulyvahn suddenly lets you go with a cry of pain.

You take a quick breath in, feeling the burn of oxygen in your deprived lungs. You struggle to stand but you manage and pick up your dropped shotel. You look to see why Sulyvahn dropped you and you see an arrow, shot into his mask and sticking into his face.

Turning around, you notice Gwyndolin with his bow aimed at Sulyvahn. “(Name)! Hither here!” He quickly beckons you, keeping a second shot ready for when Sulyvahn recovers. You notice the body of Aldrich, lying next to Gwyndolin. Though not dead, but greatly weakened.

You scramble to turn and run through the sludge. You come closer and closer to Gwyndolin, who you now notice Yorshka hiding behind him. But your progress is halted as Sulyvahn recovers, harshly pulling the arrow from his face. Gwyndolin let’s go of another arrow but Sulyvahn catches it midair and throws it away.

You just need to get close enough and tell them to start closing the door, then you’ll squeeze through before it completely shuts, locking Sulyvahn and the beast inside. Your plan is foiled as you feel yourself being grabbed again by Sulyvahn, but he doesn’t waste his time in talking and digs his blade into your leg.

You scream in pain as Sulyvahn digs it further, rage fueling his actions. “My plan won’t fail, because of some blind captain.” He sneers and the blade makes contact with your bone. “Not because of a hybrid freak, not because of a defective, weak god.”

His words echo in your head. He talked about your daughter like she was nothing, a nuisance and an abomination to nature. He talked about Gwyndolin, your dearest, with the words that his father scorned him with. Your muscles tense and you begin to struggle wildly, rage beginning to fuel you.

You don’t care about the blade nearly all the way through your leg now as you lift your arm, holding onto your cracked shotel and bringing it down as hard as you can on Sulyvahn's face. At the exact same time, an arrow from Gwyndolin flies and digs itself into Sulyvahn’s chest.

Sulyvahn let’s put an angered roar of pain as you gouge out his right eye and the arrow plants itself deep into his skin. He backs up from you, leaving the sword in your leg as he tries to mend his wounds. You struggle to get up, pain rippling through your entire being but your adrenaline and anger keep you from collapsing due to the pain.

Grasping onto the sword, you take a breath before roughly pulling it out. You grit your teeth and drop the sword to put your hands over your gaping wound. Your leg was numb, which was highly concerning and it wasn’t responding to your attempts to move it.

“(Name)!” Gwyndolin calls and you immediately turn to limp towards him. The single minute it takes for you to limp your way to him feels like eternity but when you do, you nearly collapse into his arm. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as he quickly wraps his arms around you. “Oh, my dearest. Thou’rt safe. Ne’er separate from me, again.” He nearly sounds like he’ll cry.

Behind you, you feel the arms of Yorshka enveloping you in a hug. You greatly enjoy the warmth and love from your family, one you never expected to have. But one you will never give up without a fight.

“We need to leave.” You finally say, removing yourself from their loving embraces. “There’s not much time.” You notice Sulyvahn beginning to get his bearings as he straightens out. You limp to one of the large doors and begin to push, but it doesn’t budge.

Gwyndolin slithers over to the other door and begins to push it shut with minor difficulty. Yorshka suddenly rushes to you and begins to help you push the door shut. The doors creak in protest as they begin to shut and you hear Sulyvahn let out an angered growl as he attempts to reach the doors before they shut.

Just before he can, they slam shut and you hear an enraged roar behind them. That’s Sulyvahn and that beast dealt with, at least for now. “Come on.” You gesture to both of them. “I don’t know where we’ll go…” you breathe out, struggling to move.

Gwyndolin moves to your side, it’s his turn to support you. You let out a hiss of pain before you speak again. “But it’s somewhere far away.” You look at Yorshka, seeing how nervous she is. “But we’ll come back, someday…”

—————-

In the far mountains, lies a cosy cottage hidden deep within. Smoke rises from its chimney as fire crackles within the bonfire, warming up the home. Inside, you sit behind Yorshka, combing through her hair while Gwyndolin sits on a nearby rocking chair, reading a book. One of the few he took with him when you fled Anor Londo.

It’s been a few months by now but it only felt like a few days, the time has flown by with how happy you are with your family. Here, it’s domestic and peaceful, living off of the land and always being so close. Of course you bring most of the food, but you don’t mind. It keeps your skills from getting rusty.

When you fled Anor Londo with Yorshka and Gwyndolin, you made your way to the very outskirts of Lordran to escape the ever persistent Sulyvahn. You only managed to get him off your trails when you fled up the mountains. It was a bit of a drastic move but it was needed.

The cabin was abandoned when you found it, but with help you cleaned it up and had it brand new in no time. You thank the moon that you managed to find it, otherwise you’re sure you wouldn’t have made it through the freezing nights.

“Oh, sorry Yorshka.” You quickly apologise when you accidentally tug on her hair, the brush catching on the knot.

“It is fine.” She says, just enjoying having her hair brushed. On her lap, lays a ball of yarn. She had taken up a hobby of knitting and she was quite good at it. You got her the ball of yarn and its needles when you ventured out and found an abandoned town, with plenty of supplies. She loved it, it was something for her to do.

You adjust yourself to be more comfortable, sitting on your one leg. Unfortunately, the wound Sulyvahn gave you when he attacked you had severed the nerves in your leg, leaving it worthless. You cut it off yourself. It wasn’t much of a hassle, it already was severely damaged and the bone was broken. Luckily it didn’t hurt and Yorshka didn’t see you do it.

You planned to replace the missing leg with a prosthetic when you return to Anor Londo. You don’t know when that is, but you know it will be one day. One day, you’ll kill Sulyvahn and get Gwyndolin and Yorshka back to their rightful place.

The fireplace crackles in the background, providing a comforting sound. You decide to focus on the now, instead of the unsteady future. You finish brushing through Yorshka’s hair and run your hands through it, feeling how soft and detangled it is.

Gwyndolin, sat upon his rocking chair, looks up from his book. He’s far more healthy now, no longer having the potent poison in his system. He can practically do what he has always done by now, the godly activities. But you’ve expressed to him that you don’t want to return to Anor Londo so soon and he understands.

He watches as you begin to put Yorshka’s hair into a big braid, being as gentle as possible. He smiles softly, he couldn’t have asked for a better partner and family. This family truly loved him and cared for him. Unlike the one he felt that he was cursed to be born into.

His loving eyes land on you, and his attention only stays on you. He truly loves you, and everyday you prove yourself worth far more than his affections. He can’t help but feel a little inferior at times, but everytime he expresses this, you always cheer him up and remind him of just who he is.

Gwyndolin stands from his chair and slithers over to you. “Thou art talented.” He comments as you finish braiding Yorshka’s hair and he comes to sit next to you. “Doth all talents come naturally to you?” He smiles.

You look at Gwyndolin, returning his smile. “No, this takes time to master. I’m not talented in archery like you, which I’d say you are a master at.” You say. “So I’m not naturally talented in everything.”

“I shall teach thee the ways of archery.” He says, pulling you close. “We’ve plenty of time to hone thy skill.” He places a quick kiss on your forehead.

“I’d love that. It’ll help me with my hunts, making them much easier.” You appreciate his offer and gladly accept it.

Yorshka turns to stick her tongue out. Like any child seeing their parental figures express love, she thinks it’s gross. Of course, you can tell she’s only playing as her tail wags lightly.

“Don’t look at us like that, you’ll find someone and you’ll understand how it is.” You laugh. “But they better be good, I don’t want some wretch dating my daughter.”

“Neither doth I.” Gwyndolin agrees.

Yorshka shakes her head again, keeping her tongue stuck out before it slithers back in and she speaks. “I shall never date.” She says, crossing her arms. “It is gross.”

You and Gwyndolin laugh at her words. Gwyndolin's arms wrap around your chest and nearly pull you onto his lap. Snow falls gently outside as the stars and moon decorate the skies. The crackling fireplace providing the perfect heat and light.

You never thought you’d find a family by simply joining a covenant. But you’d never trade them for anything, they were your heart and soul. And you know that at the event of your hollowing, you’d never hurt them even then.

Anor Londo will be taken back soon and you can live in the familiar palace again. You're rather excited about it, Gwyndolin has promised you a wedding ceremony and perhaps… new life, a new child born of you and him.

The snow outside piles onto the cosy cabin, none of it able to slither through and break the peace with its biting cold. You yawn tiredly and let yourself fall asleep, in the arms of Gwyndolin. You feel Yorshka cuddle up to you before you fully slip into sleep, holding onto you while she herself falls asleep.

Shortly afterwards, Gwyndolin lets himself fall asleep. His dreams of the future consist of his family.

Chapter Text

Contents: No Smut. Forced Relationship, mind control, Reader is NOT a fan. Bad ending. An intermission chapter so a short chapter. Miquella is a bad person.Toxic behaviour. Forced marriage. This is kinda a horror chapter imma be real

A twitch..

A twitch there, and a twitch here..

You don’t know when the twitches began, was it today? Yesterday? A few days or weeks ago? It’s hard to even tell how much time has passed since you were in this ‘prison.’ It’s not really a prison, your body is as free as anyones, walking around and talking without restriction or chains wrapped around your ankles.

But that was the thing, it was your body, that was free, not your mind. You’ve been practically demoted to sitting in the back, watching as something- no, someone else pilots your actions and body. It’s a living nightmare, to which you won’t ever wake up from. Days blurred together in the prison of your mind, making it impossible to tell just how long you’ve been like this.

It’s not that you wanted to even remember most days, but the feeling of time slipping through your fingers like sand made you panic, and that's when the twitches got really bad. At first, it was only your fingers that would twitch, just the tips. Before going back to normal. But it’s been getting worse, your neck has twitched once, hurling your head too harshly to the side for the tiniest fraction of a second.

God, you wish it never happened. For that tiny second, you were you again. And that made the mental pain so much worse, feeling freedom for only a flicker before it being stolen away again. But you processed so much during that time. Your eyes flashed an image of what looked like something towering, made up of old calcified bodies, it looked alot like a gate. You were standing in front of it with your back turned, but for what reason? You doubt you will ever find out.

The damndest thing of all was the feeling of two golden, see through arms held around you and something light on your back. He was on your back. He was the cause of all your pain. He put you into this prison. But he didn’t call it a prison. If you remembered the words he spoke, it was that of compassion. And he wouldn’t leave anyone out of the ‘compassionate’ embrace, including you.

He felt your twitch when it happened, and could feel his reigns on you loosen for that tiny moment. So he held them so much tighter, it felt like he was going to strangle you. You would’ve preferred death, you’d prefer it even now, you WISH for it, you NEED it. You wished he would just get bored of you and cast you aside, and kill you in the process. But he won’t and never will.

If only you weren’t so strong, if only you failed, then you wouldn’t be here. Why did you have to be strong? Why couldn’t you fail like your fellow tarnished? Why couldn’t you have just left the realm of shadow alone, and rule as Elden Lord in the Lands Between? The throne was right in front of you, begging for you to take your rightful seat earned through victory. But it will remain untouched now. You suppose you do have a throne, you are now a sort of ‘Elden Lord’ but you still feel like a prisoner, a tool to spread his compassion like a plague over the lands.

You could only watch as closest friends fell to that deadly charm, looking up at him upon your back with love. You could only watch as your body was used as a living puppet to do things you never wanted to do, nor could ever dream of. Those who opposed or refused the embrace were sliced to ribbons, cut in half or just mutilated by you. It’s hard to even call it ‘your’ own actions when it was he who pulled your puppets strings.

Oh, poor souls, poor souls. Poor Roderika, Poor Nepheli, and a sincerest apology and beg for forgiveness to all the others who dared oppose. Their blood will stain you forever, and the stench will permeate for ages to come. Their cries won't leave your head. Yet, there is nothing you can do but listen to it and try to keep your mind from imploding on itself.

twitch..

You feel your legs start to move and you’re thrown back to the present. You're somewhere different now, it looks like a castle or palace. The distant sounds of a celebration get closer and closer as you move to his command and walk silently down a few hallways and down some stairs. You gently open the door, to see a party. A myriad of dancing and celebrating people, a few familiar faces in the crowd.

They aren’t acting like themselves, they would never do this. But here they are laughing, dancing and talking with people who they told you that they wanted to see dead. Instruments play on stage, singing a happy tune. It feels like a mockery, a macabre party for laughing corpses.

All of them, every single one is in the exact same predicament as you. Some of them have tears welling in their eyes but the drop never falls. You're directed to sit on a large chair at the tail end of a long table. On the table is an assortment of food, fruits, meats and breads. But the centrepiece is a large, beautifully decorated cake, stacks high. It looks sickeningly sweet.

You don’t know what the cake is for, or what everyone is celebrating for and frankly, you're not sure if you want to know. So you only sit and watch, wondering when your suffering will end.

—-----------------------------------------

Miquella smiles softly, looking at every celebrating person with smiles on their faces and laughter ringing out through the large dining room. It’s everything that he wanted, right in front of him. No strife or pain, only the compassion of the age he is slowly but surely bringing in with his beloved consorts strength.

He feels you shift around as he rests on your back. You’ve been doing that lately, moving around and twitching. But he doesn’t worry himself about it, if the twitching gets worse he’ll simply re-apply his charm and you’ll go back to normal. It worked last time, it would surely work the next and the next and the next.

He wouldn’t want to lose the only viable consort to be beside him ‘ruling.’ in his new era. You took away the only competition with ease. It’s a fond memory really.

The battleground is a littered mess, blood and kicked up dust nearly everywhere. Some blood was yours from the intense battle, and some was Radahns. But the battle had been ultimately decided to be in your favour as you land the final killing blow, and Radahn is no more. The only thing left of him was his two swords embedded into the ground.

You didn’t know it then but you didn’t kill both Miquella and Radahn. Miquella who had taken to be upon Radahns back had simply fall off of him as he dissipated into nothing more than dust being taken away in the wind. And that's when you turned your back to leave the arena.

Miquella couldn’t just let his age of compassion go like that, he was so, so close. Even if this was a desperate act, a foolish one some would even say. He took that moment when you were weakened from the fight, and with your back turned to him. To get up and slowly and silently walk up behind you.

It was more of a limp, he was feeling weaker by the second but you would be his lifeline, even if you didn’t want to. That's when he jumped onto your back, bringing you down with the weight of his adult form. Since you were already exhausted, even bleeding heavily. It was no problem to use his charm to the fullest and put you into your servitude.

You struggled for a few moments, blindsided by the sudden attack but your body suddenly stiffened and you stopped. And that's when your body didn’t belong to you anymore.

It’s been a while since then, and you’ve grown exponentially, aided by Miquellas own power. You’ve nearly grown thrice your size, just enough to comfortably carry Miquella. Looking back to the present, he watches as all the party-goers take a seat, commanded with his charm. They all smile as they all know what's coming.

“I thank thee all, for attending.” Miquella begins, his voice soft and disarming. Contrasting so heavily with his actions, even if he thinks they're justified and righteous. “My consorts and I’s wedding dinner.” He feels you twitch lightly. “Without my dear consort, this age of compassion could of ne’er be ushered in.” His hands gently caress your face, ignoring the glassy dead eyes.

“And now, to celebrate our union. Let us cut the cake and indulge.” He smiles as the seated guests clap and cheer. But somethings up as he feels you twitch harshly again and his smile falters.Turning his head to face you, he mostly hides his expression with his golden hair to the guests.

“Now dear consort, calm thyself.” He whispers and gently re-applies his charm. You sure proved yourself to be quite the fighter, even in the depths of his charm. Turning back to the guests, he watched as they celebrated. All unaware of the begging to be free’d screaming in your head.

Chapter Text

Content: Arranged Marriage, Reader REALLY hates Bloody Crow for a bit. Crow and reader fight each other even though they are on the same side. Torture/kidnapping (To reader) :( . Added some locations to Cainhurst for story purposes. Crow is really sweet later. he also doesn’t talk.

Your footsteps echo lightly in the large castle as you go up the many flights of stairs to get to the cainhurst queens chamber. You shiver lightly as a cold wind blows in, but you’ve gotten used to it at this point. You had been living in Cainhurst for a good two years by now, as a loyal vileblood knight.

You wore the standard knight set, but didn’t include the silly little white ponytail wig. You thought it looked ridiculous. You even switched up your standard hunters saw cleaver to exchange it for reiterpallasch which you took too quickly, handling it perfectly and slicing through prey like butter. All for blood dregs.

The thought of blood dregs and the reward for fetching them makes you shiver. You wouldn’t really call yourself addicted to the taste of the queen's blood.. Just dedicated to aiding the queen in her journey to bearing a child of blood and reaping the rewards. You reach the final step to the chambers and see Queen Annalise sitting on her throne.

Stepping up to the end of the long, red carpet, you bow and hold out your arm to the side in the proper bow to the queen. “Your majesty, I have requested an audience with you for a simple request.” You begin, showing utmost respect. “I wish to embark to Yharnam to partake in the hunt once again, but for your sake only, to which I will only hunt for blood dregs to bring you.”

Queen Annalise ponders for a moment before letting out a ‘hm’ and speaking. “Very well, we accept thy request.”

You mentally cheer for yourself but mask it in the presence of her majesty. You want to appear sophisticated in front of her as always. “Thank you, your majes-”

“However.” She cuts you off. “Thou betrothed will accompany thee.”

All excitement immediately wears off the moment she mentions him and as if speaking of the devil, he makes his presence known as he walks out of the darkness, hands held behind him and as silent as ever. The Bloody Crow Of Cainhurst, or just Crow which is what you called him.

“P-Pardon me your majesty, but you simply cannot expect me to work alongside him.” You stammer, nearly losing your calm demeanour. Your hatred for your, ugh, betrothed husband-to-be, began when you were still just a hunter. Eileen was injured and possibly dying and the man who did it was inside the church. So you rushed in and challenged him.

The fight had stretched on for a while, but you emerged victorious when Crow realised he was outmatched and fled. He had given quite the heavy blow to you, giving you a scar on your cheek which still remained there to this day. You really didn’t like him then so it was more of a surprise when he was also a vileblood, which you learned after becoming a vileblood yourself.

It seemed like neither of you liked each other at all so when Queen Annalise called you both to her throne room and announced you two are now betrothed. You wanted to strangle him then and there to get out of this marriage. You suppose it sort of made sense, considering only you and him were the only vilebloods in the entire castle.

You had to get your portrait done with him and the hours it took for the portrait to be done was tortuous. His hand had been on your shoulder the entire time, at first he wasn’t touching you at all but the painter chastised you and him to ‘act more like a couple’ so he put his hand on your shoulder.

After it was done, you quickly stood up and wiped your shoulder before leaving the room. It’s just near impossible to imagine you happily marrying Crow and possibly producing more vilebloods with him. Queen Annalise wanted it, but this is one order you don’t want to fulfil.

“I would much prefer to work alone, he will only slow me down.” You snip at him.

“Enough, we have decided.” She silences any more protests from you, “Thou will take him with, we shall hear no more complaints.”

“Yes, sorry your majesty.” You apologize and glare at Crow as he walks over and folds his arms, equally as not happy as you for this pairing. “I will be back as soon as I can.” You bow farewell and turn around, beginning to walk down the stairs as Crow follows. You wait until you exit onto the snowy rooftop to talk to Crow so the Queen wouldn’t hear because of the throne rooms echo.

“Listen, we both don’t want this.” You sneer at him, “So just stay out of my way and I will get the blood dregs and bring them back.”

The crow keeps his arms crossed before he suddenly quickly whacks you on your chest the moment you mention only you getting the blood dregs.

“What? Do you want blood dregs?” You ask and he nods. “Well you’ll have to get them on your own, I’m not sharing any.” You say and walk off, intending on getting to the bottom of Castle Cainhurst and to the carriages, Crow following you down.

—--------------------------------

The carriage ride was awkward as you had to sit across from him in the smaller carriage as you rode out of Castle Cainhurst and into Chemwick. Luckily it wasn’t too long that you were trapped in there with him.

Walking through the confusing alleyways and streets of Yharnam, you search for your prey y. You really aren’t picky with your prey as they all give the same rewards every time you slaughter them, but you were looking for particular prey now, which were those terrible executioners. Apparently there were alot more around in the recent years, and you thought that was unacceptable.

So like predator to prey, you need to keep their populations down. Sneaking around and finding executioners would be so much easier if Crow wasn’t with you. The small clinking of his armoured legs and arms sounded so loud in the quietness of the desolate streets of Yharnam, and it was beginning to annoy you.

“Do you have to wear armour? It’s only going to slow you down, you know.” You harshly whisper at him but as always, he doesn’t answer. “Whatever, just keep a look out for any executioners or hunters, but mostly executioners.” you sigh.

Proceeding through some more alleyways, you mainly keep out of sight of mad beast folk, not wanting to pick any fights so you stay in tip-top shape. Stopping suddenly, you feel Crow collide with your back and you nearly snap at him. “Watch where you're going.” you can practically feel his eye roll through his metal mask.

Scoffing, you turn your attention back to what made you stop, two executioners standing just a small distance away. “Look.” You point to them, catching Crows attention. “I’ll go for one and you go for the oth-” You don’t have time to finish your sentence before Crow shoves you out the way and heads straight to the executioners.

Damnit! This was another thing you hated about him, he was so damned impatient. You immediately follow after him, giving up both of your stealth as the executioners yell out in surprise as Crow descends onto one of them. His feathery coat makes it look like he has wings. You rush to the other one and begin the fight.

You twirl your reiterpallasch and slash at one of the executioners as he blocks your attacks with his kirk hammer. But you're faster and with the combined nature of the reiterpallasch and a gun, you shoot the executioner just as he attempts to bring the kirk hammer down on you, causing him to stumble and give you a chance at a critical move.

You take it and nearly rip a piece of the executioner's rib out, but just moments after you are shoved harshly as Crow and the other executioner collide into you, their fight being brought to you. You stumble over with a groan of frustration as you can clearly see that Crow is struggling. Quickly getting back up, you run up to the back of the executioner and stab him through his stomach before lifting it up, effectively gutting him.

The executioner falls to the ground, dead and you turn on your heel to look at the other executioner who you were fighting in the first place, only to find him missing and a trail of blood leading off into the depths of Yharnam. Crow had messed up your kill, but oh well, you basically got another kill that you can reap a blood dreg from.

Crouching down you reach for the executioner's chest to dig into it, that’s where blood dregs always were.
(A/N: I Know they are basically blood sperm but I’m not making the reader grab a crotch to get it.)
But you're interrupted again by Crow as he takes the blood dreg before you can. “Hey!” You yell, taken aback by the blatant thievery. “That's my blood dreg.” You try to grab it from him but he moves out of the way. It looks like he doesn’t really care.

“You may have fought him badly, might I add.” He reels back a bit, possibly offended. “But I dealt the final blow, therefore it’s my blood dreg.” You try to swipe for it again but he keeps it out of your reach.

“Ugh, not only are you impatient but you're a thief as well.” You reprimand him and give up on trying to take the blood dreg from him. “Come on, we’re going after the other one. And this time, keep your hands off of the blood dreg, it’s mine.” You warn him as you turn around and begin to follow the blood trail that the executioner left behind with Crow following behind you.

The bright-red, frothy blood tells you just where you hurt the executioner and you know that he won’t get too far. You stealthily follow the trail deeper into the alleyways of Yharnam and you realize that this executioner is trying to get to the church, possibly to get backup. But as you turn the corner, you see the executioner crawling on the ground, clutching his ribs and still attempting to get closer to the church.

Crow peeks around the corner just as you do, seeing the struggling executioner to which he promptly shoves you and goes for the executioner.

“What, no!” You yell, running after Crow and managing to intercept him just before he gets to the executioner and you harshly shove him. “The dreg is mine, quit being selfish!” but the shove doesn’t seem to dissuade him as he takes out his chikage and attempts to kill the executioner before you can, but it’s intercepted with the blade of your reiterpallasch with a loud ‘ting!’

Queen Annalise would definitely chew you out for this but you have no other choice, either lose the blood dreg and let Crow get two unearned, or knock him down and take the dreg for yourself. You choose the ladder. Harshly kicking him in the stomach, you manage to knock him onto his back with a ‘oomph’ coming from him as he lands.

Quickly turning to the executioner who crawled two feet further, you attempt to deal the killing blow but as you raise your reiterpallasch above your head, two strong arms suddenly hook around under your arms to prevent you from doing so. You immediately realise the arms belong to Crow as the armour and feel give it away.

You feel yourself being lifted off your feet as you struggle, dropping your weapon onto the ground. Crow turns and takes a few steps away before dropping you back down and rushing to the executioner. “No, you don’t!” you say and grab onto his feathery cape and tug him back, making him stumble.

You attempt to run over and pass the Crow but he grabs your arm and pulls you back. This game of pulling, shoving and grabbing seems to go on forever until you don’t even know how it got to the point of you and Crow pulling out both of your weapons and attempting to hit each other. Every swing of his chikage is blocked by your reiterpallasch and every swing of your blade is blocked by his chikage in a type of stalemate. Both on equal footing, it’s hard to land a hit.

The fight between you and your betrothed goes on for who knows how long, until he suddenly slashes at your face and the tip of his blade just grazes the scar he gave you so long ago and reopens it. Causing you to turn your head and to notice that the executioner is completely gone.

Stumbling back, you hold your cheek as blood drips down and anger floods your senses. “Stop!” You yell and point to the puddle of blood to where the executioner once was and Crow snaps his head to look.

“See what you did?” You chastise him. “Now we both don’t get that dreg and that executioner is going to alert the church and soon Yharnam will be crawling with them. Our hunt is over prematurely because of you!” You can’t control the volume of your voice as anger clouds your common sense

Crow puts his hands up as if he’s trying to calm you down before making a ‘shushing’ motion with his finger in front of where his mouth should be behind the mask. But this only makes you more angry.

“Don’t shush me!” You slap his hand away to make him stop doing the gesture. “Why did I have to be promised to someone so selfish and greedy like you?!” You harshly push your finger against his chest. “I don’t care what Queen Annalise says, go back to the castle and stay there! I should’ve known that you would ruin everything!”

He seems almost hurt but also near as mad as you as he smacks your hand away from his chest and harshly turns, his feathery cape nearly hitting you as he does so and he begins to walk away, presumably to do as you said.

“Good riddance.” You spit at him watching as he vanishes into the darkness. Turning around, you look to the church and surrounding areas. You can’t return to the castle with a single blood dreg and now that Crow is gone, you can hunt without the worry of him thieving your rightfully earned loot.

Running off into the alleyways, you plan to scout out either that injured executioner or a lone executioner. You stick to the darkest and most desolate alleyways and rarely go out into any open spots as you can see lights begin to emerge from the church, most likely fleets of executioners going out solemnly to look for the two vilebloods which is now only one.

You're going to have to pick your fights much more considerably now, but that's never been much of an issue. Making sure to stay a decent way away from the church, you wait for any signature white garbs to catch your attention as you sneak around. It’s far too easy to see them with the white contrasting so heavily against the dark night and architecture of Yharnam, you sometimes wonder how they survived for so long with little stealth and their ridiculous attire.

But after a few minutes pass and nothing but crickets and the occasional beast, you find no prey to hunt. Which was strange? Usually they’d spread out pretty far in searching for you or Crow. It’s happened a few times before in different hunts and they’d be nearly everywhere in Yharnam like ants in their nest. But this time, it’s hard to track a single one down.

“Where the hell are they..” You whisper to yourself, still not wanting to get closer to the church even though you knew that's where most executioners would be. But maybe you’ll have to and take that massive risk. Looking around, you weigh your options. Return with no blood dregs and have no taste of the queen's blood or get a bit closer and slaughter an executioner and bring it back to the queen and be rewarded for your efforts. Maybe if you brought back enough dregs, she’d break the arrangement between you and Crow.

That sounds like a good idea, and maybe just getting a little closer wouldn’t hurt, especially if you were careful. You walk through some alleyways, getting closer to the church by the minute and you stop just a few houses down from the church and a flash of white in the corner of your eye catches your attention. There, prey.

You immediately go to follow where the flash of white went, hearing the footsteps of the perceived executioner but not seeing them. Luckily tracking by hearing wasn’t that hard. You chase the sound through a few corners and roads, never catching a glance of your prey. The chase leads you into an open area, leaving you unknowingly exposed.

Now, where did the executioner go? Looking around, you don’t see any white garb or hear footsteps anymore. Did they seriously get away?

“Disgusting vileblood. Led right into the trap.” A voice interrupts your thoughts as an executioner walks out of the darkness, holding the spiked wheel over his shoulder and donning that stupid golden cone hat.

A single executioner wouldn’t be too hard. “Coming out of the darkness is not a trap.” You mock him.

“Oh that wasn’t the trap.” He says before snapping his fingers. “This was.” Suddenly from out of the darkness, more and more executioners emerge. You could count at least ten of them and a few were blocking any way out of this. This was bad, you were highly outnumbered with no means of escape.

Taking out your reiterpallasch, you prepare to fight as you get in a fighting stance and a nervous drip of sweat drips down your forehead. The executioners rush to you, lifting their spiked wheels.

—-----------------------------------------

The Crow sits in the carriage, moving a bit with each bump it goes over from the terrain and strange ‘bridge’ that somehow exists and somehow doesn’t at the same time. He doesn’t question it though, he just wants to get back to the castle. In his hands he holds the blood dreg he took from you, feeling the tiniest bit guilty ever since you yelled at him for letting the injured executioner get away.

The carriage lurches as it reaches its destination and he stands up, opening the door and stepping down, the cold wind blowing his feathery cape. He walks into the castle, walking past the spirits of the many noble women and up some flights of stairs, through a few rooms and up more stairs to get onto the rooftop and eventually to the queen's throne room. He plans to give the blood dreg to her, so he can get a taste of the blood.

As he walks in, the queen speaks up. “Loyal vileblood, we hath taken notice that thou art alone? Have we not ordered thou to stay with thee partner, leaving and returning?” She questions him.

The Crow kneels in respect, the proper vileblood way. He doesn’t respond, he never has, not even for the queen. But the queen always had some sort of way of telling what he wanted to say.

“Thou possesseth wounds, made by a reiterpallasch. A fight hath occurred, we presume? with thy betrothed?” She notices the scratches on Crow's armoured parts and a few ripped parts of his cape and fabric chest piece. He nods, albeit a bit shamefully.

“Thy betrothed hath not returned with thee,” she notes. “Where hath thou left them?” She asks and Crow looks to where Yharnam would be, indicating where he left you.

Queen Annalise stays silent for a moment and Crow falters, feeling the tension of the room and the weight of his actions, even if you did yell at him to go away, he should’ve stayed and he only realises that now.

“Thou left thy betrothed within Yharnam, during the night of the hunt.” She begins, her voice already showing her disdain. If you died then she possibly wouldn’t get anymore blood dregs and vilebloods out of you and Crow. It’s the entire reason she paired you and Crow, to produce children, pure vilebloods as she called them due to them being born of vileblood parents and within the castle. But if you died, you wouldn’t be able to produce any.

“Arrant fool, thy actions have gone against our orders. We beseech thee, return to Yharnam and retrieve thy betrothed.” She orders, before adding another thing. “If thy fail to do so, care not to return. Get thee gone.”

Crow immediately stands up and begins to walk out of the queen's throne room as his mind races. How stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. He just up and left you in the middle of Yharnam, where only gods know how many executioners are now. It’s like he left you in a pit full of snakes. A pit of strange panic and concern wells in his stomach as he finds himself speeding up slowly and slowly until he’s in a full sprint down the many flights of stairs and through the hallways of the castle to get to the stables.

He hadn’t realised it until now, but he really did care about you. There were moments where you two were alone and not at each other's throats, and he found those moments rested rather fondly in his memories. A time you even patched up his wounds after he came back from last year's hunt. Your hands were so tender and gentle with him, even if you quietly chastised him for getting so banged up that year. You even sewed up some of his ripped clothes.

You and him both shared plenty of interests. He found you in the expansive library a few times, usually whenever he went in to find a book to read himself. The books you read matched his tastes but he didn’t comment on them. The most he did was give you a book as a recommendation, you even thanked him for it as it was a good read afterwards. Of course, you and him would practice fighting with each other which was surprisingly enjoyable. He had recently found himself strangely looking forward to interactions with you, but he never wanted to acknowledge those feelings.

His footsteps crunch on the snow as he runs to the stables and throws them open, looking for a fully black horse that he claimed as his own. Luckily for him, the horse's head swung up the moment the stable doors swung open, mostly likely in confusion. He immediately runs up to the horse and hops onto its back, not caring to put its saddle on as there was no time.

He kicks the side of the horse and holds onto whatever he can as it whinnies and takes off out of the stables and to the main gate of the castle and onto the bridge. He doesn’t worry about how the entire bridge is gone as the horse steps onto the ‘not there’ bridge and continues running on what appears to be thin air. Its breath is visible from the coldness of the surrounding Castle Cainhurst as it rushes out.

Crow needs to get to you before you possibly get caught by any executioners or he’ll lose his betrothed..

—------------------------------------------

You’re thrown to the ground by an executioner as you cough up blood, already feeling more bruises forming on your skin from the rough throw as you roll a few times. You struggle to get up, your hands tied behind your back and your legs aching from the abuse they endured so far.

You had been stripped of your weapons, luckily leaving you with your clothes. “What’s wrong, vileblood?” The executioner who threw you, mocks you as the others laugh. “Hurt?” He digs his foot into your bruised ribs and you hiss in pain.

But you don’t answer, not wanting to give them any satisfaction or reaction from their torture. They had managed to overpower you quickly in their trap and had dragged you back to the church, kicking and cursing all the way there. They didn’t kill you right when they brought you here, they sought something more sadistic. Or as they called it, a ‘deserving punishment for a vileblood.’

They punched, beat and kicked you, covering your body with horrible purple and green bruises and decorating your skin with cuts. Of course you fought back as much as you could but that's when they tied your arms behind your back, which left you nearly defenceless. The executioner sneers at your lack of response and not much of a response as he crouches down, harshly grabbing your jaw to force you to look at him.

“It’s rude to not answer a question. Or is that just a vileblood custom?” He snickers and his grip feels like it’s going to break your jaw. Your eyebrows knit together from pain as you try to struggle out of his hold but it’s relentless. Seeing no other option, you harshly bite down on his hand and he lets out a loud yell of pain, letting go of your jaw.

“Augh, you bitch!” He yells and kicks you in the stomach as a retaliation and you can feel your body scream in pain. You bite back your cry of pain, biting harshly on your tongue. You don’t really care if your actions would lead you to more torture or faster to your death, all paths led to the same grave anyway.

He harshly grabs your hair and lifts you, feeling as if he’ll rip your hair straight off of your scalp. “I think I know what I should do to you, after that.” He sneers and reaches behind him, signaling for another executioner to hand him something and to your horror it’s the spiked wheel. “Bashing your skull in.” He says as he takes the wheel.

He begins to bring the wheel to your face, one of the blades nicking your reopened scar from Crow. He reels the wheel back and just as he’s about to bring it down onto you, there’s the sound of horses hooves and a shout before all hell breaks loose.

You’re suddenly dropped and your head lands harshly on the hard ground, cracking your jaw. The group of executioners turn to see the commotion as the smell of fresh blood fills your nose. The yells of ‘vileblood!’ reach your ears and you perk up, it couldn’t be..

In the gathering crowd you could see Crow, tearing through the executioners before many even had the time to react. His feathered cape makes him look like a black-feathered angel coming down as a savior as he slaughters executioner after executioner with brutal efficiency. The executioner tha was torturing you had run to Crow, attempting to swing down on him with the wheel but Crow moves out of the just in time and slashes his neck.

Crow’s chest moves up and down as he breathes harshly walking over to you. “Crow..” You say, your voice weak and in awe that he came just in time. He gently grabs your chin and turns your head side to side, seeming to survey your injuries. He lets go and grabs his chikage to cut through your tie and free your arms. He extends his hand to help you up and you graciously take it.

“Thank you.” You say as you stand up, wobbling a bit. “You came just at the right time.” And for the first time, you smile at him. Although the moment is short lived as a shout comes from the doorway, one executioner had warned more and they began to storm in. Crow suddenly gives you your reiterpallasch, which he must have swiped from one of the executioners he downed.

“Thanks again,” You take your weapon and get ready for a fight as you go back to back with Crow, the executioners beginning to surround you both. To them it may look like you and him are outnumbered, but to you and Crow, this is finally a fair fight.

The executioners charge and the fight begins. You kick it off by slicing through a few and Crow using his repeating pistol to shoot through three of them. One of the executioners attempts to grab Crow’s arm but you notice and quickly slice through the executioner's hand, chopping it off and killing him with a blast from the gun attached to your blade.

One of the wheel carrying executioners attempts to smash both you and Crow, to possibly separate you two but Crow manages to shoot him in the stomach just in time, felling him. The fight rages on for what feels like an eternity as you and Crow down one after the other. Working together is not so bad after all, and the dead bodies surrounding both of you tell it without speaking it.

You breathe heavily as the final executioner goes down. Both of you covered in splattered blood from the fight and exhausted. You sheathe your reiterpallasch on your belt and silently go to collect any blood dregs from the dead executioners and Crow seems to have the same idea too. Luckily, it seems there’s enough for both of you to not fight over anything.

You take about ten blood dregs and walk up to Crow, “Do you have what you need?” You catch his attention and he turns around, nodding. “Good, let's get out of this hellhole. I’ve had enough for one night.” The evidence of it showing on your skin. You turn around to walk out of the church but a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Hmm, what is it?” You ask, looking back to face Crow. He digs something out of his pocket and hands you a blood dreg, the one that he stole from you a few hours ago. “Oh.” You hesitate to take it from him but he lightly puts it in your palm, maybe he felt guilty for taking it. “Well, I appreciate it. It is technically mine.” You laugh, but regret it as you clutch your ribs in pain. “Let’s just.. Get going.” You look away, feeling a slight heat on your cheeks.

You begin to walk away as you hear the clank of Crows leg armour behind you. The bruises and cuts you sustained we’re really getting the best of you as your vision blurs from pain as the adrenaline begins to exhaust and you wobble on your feet, falling to your knee. Crow immediately rushes up to you and extends his hand to help you up but you refuse. “No, no I’m alright. Just tired is all.” You lie.

Crow obviously doesn’t buy the white lie and takes your hand, helping you up and begins to walk with his arm coiled around your waist to keep you from falling again. Normally, you’d recoil away from his touch, but you oddly crave it now as you let him lead you to his horse. He helps you get on, now wishing he brought a saddle so that it could be more comfortable for your sore bones and purpled skin.

He hops on just in front of you and you immediately wrap your arms around his chest, only to make sure that you wouldn’t fall when the horse got going but you could feel him tense up as you did so, but he didn’t voice or show any concern. He gently gives the horse a kick to get it moving in a walk. He leads it through the streets of Yharnam, which are now desolate as the morning sun begins to shine over the horizon, scaring the beasts into the darkness.

The ride is slow, but it’s to minimize your discomfort. Being bareback on a horse and the uneven terrain of Yharnam’s streets would surely leave you more bruised and sore, so he makes sure to take it slow. As you walk across the invisible bridge to Castle Cainhurst, you shiver lightly and Crow could feel it.

He reaches up to unclip something around his neck and takes off his feathered cape to give it to you, which you graciously take and wrap around yourself. It was nice and warm from his body heat and the insulating fabric beneath the feathers really helped as well. Your head rests on his back as you keep your arms wrapped around him, your face unknowingly heated deeply with a blush.

As he arrives at the end of the invisible bridge and at the gate, he dismounts before you and before you can get down yourself, you feel his hands gently pull you off and into a bridal carry. If you had the energy, if you had the want, you would tell him to put you down but it’s quite nice. You really don’t know if you’d be able to even walk, your legs ache so badly and you're exhausted so you suppose this is another thing you should thank him for. You’ve thanked him for a lot of things this night, but it still feels like you're missing a word or words to tell him. But tell him what?

The cold breeze of Cainhurst is abruptly ended as he enters the castle, the warmth of the candles placed around and the warmth of his body feeling like a gentle cradle that you could simply fall asleep. He takes you up a few flights of stairs and you can tell where you're going, your bedchambers. You're surprised he even knows where they are, as he had never been in your room before. But maybe he just saw you go there a few times..

He gently opens the door to your room, it’s a spacious room, originally meant for high nobility. But since you and Crow were the only ones living in the castles, besides Queen Annalise, they were your rooms now and you supposed that you two were high ranking by default, just below the Queen herself.

He walks up to your bed and moves the sheets before he gently places you down, being careful not to graze against your bruises. Once he places you down, he covers you with the thick blanket and lights up a few candles to keep the room warm in the harsh Cainhurst cold. You watch as he does so, still feeling like you need to say something, it’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it.

He looks at you one last time, possibly looking to see if you're comfortable before he turns to leave the room for a few moments, keeping the door open to let you know he’ll be back. He returns only a minute later with a small box as he returns to your bedside. You immediately recognize the box to be more medical care as he takes out some gauze, rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball.

You know what he’s doing and present your arm first with its sleeve rolled up, letting him take it in his grasp as he dips the cotton ball in some alcohol and gently pats it on your bruises and cuts. You wince from the stinging sensation but don’t complain as he continues his work. You watch him work and your brows knit together as you recognize how he does it, he’s copying what you did for him a year ago. How could he remember how you did it all that time ago?

“Learned from the best?” You joke and he absentmindedly nods. You smile again, continuing to watch as he patches up your arm, wrapping it in gauze and ensuring everything is disinfected. He moves the blanket from atop of you and just before he touches anywhere on your chest, he stops and looks up at you. “Go ahead.” You say and he begins to pull off your clothes one by one, setting them neatly in a chair nearby. He simply needed to get a better look at your injuries.

His armoured hands are cold and you shiver as they touch your chest and wince slightly as he applies more rubbing alcohol over cuts and bruises. This time you had to sit up so he could wrap gauze around your ribs, which were in really bad shape. As he worked on your legs, you pipe up. “Hey Crow, I just wanted to say that uh..” You struggle to find the words. “I take back what I said a few hours ago about you being a bad fighter and selfish.” You feel a bit guilty about what you said and avoid any perceived eye contact. “I’m sorry for calling you that.” You apologize to him and he nods, accepting your apology.

Finishing up his work on your legs, he gets to your face, one of his hands holding onto your chin to move your face to wherever he needs to work. He gently pats the alcohol covered cotton ball over your swelling eye and bruised jaw before he takes out a bandage for the eye and covers your swollen eye. He looks over you again, making sure he didn’t miss a spot.

He puts the alcohol and gauze back in the box and throws away the cotton ball as he closes the box and sets it on your nightstand. He puts the blanket over you again as he stands to get up and begins to walk out of the room but you stop him. “Wait.” You catch his attention just as he’s about to leave the room and close the door. But you choke on what you’re trying to say, not really knowing that those words you needed to say were so you settle for the second best. “Thank you again, I really appreciate it..”

Again, he nods before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. Now left alone, you're left to ponder your thoughts. Just what did you need to say? Thank you’s and praise didn’t feel like it was enough. What do those betrothed to each other even say? Especially if he saved your life not so long ago. Any words you think of die shorty in your mind and never leave your throat. Maybe you should think of your feelings instead.

You aren’t sure if you wanted to admit it, but Crow's actions tonight really shed a new light on him and you can’t help but feel actually attracted to him. He came running in like a winged saviour and tore down those who hurt you and even took care of your wounds. You originally thought of him as only selfish, caring only for himself but maybe you just didn’t give him much of a chance.

Yawning tiredly, you decide to think of it later. You hadn’t slept at all and it was really catching up to you. You get comfortable in the bed and close your eyes, letting yourself fall asleep on the large bed, which feels too empty now.

—------------------------------------------

Waking up, you blink your eyes to clear their bleariness. The light of the day bleeding in through the room's window. How long were you asleep? Probably for a while, as it already looks like midday. This is going to ruin your sleep schedule but you don’t care at the moment as you get off of your bed, your bones still aching.

Walking over to the chair that Crow left your clothes on, you unfold them and put them back on, making a mental note to clean and fix them up afterwards. You reach into one of its hidden pockets and pull out a few of the blood dregs you acquired from the fight in the church, maybe you should go to Queen Annalise and give them to her. But right now, she doesn’t seem very important to you. You just want to find Crow right now.

You open your room door and walk out, a lot slower than you usually were due to your injuries. Draped over your arm was Crow's feathery cape, which he must have forgotten to take back from you and which is a good excuse to seek him out. You walk down some stairs and across a few rooms, hearing the strange servants scuttle about unseen, cleaning the floors and windows or doing other chores. You know where Crow’s room is but you doubt he’s there in the middle of the day, so you decide to look in other places he frequented.

You go to check the library first, scouring the expansive room and you eventually find him sitting at a table with a book opened and reading. It seems he noticed you as he looked up from his book as you walked up to him. “Hey Crow.” You greet him and take the cape from your arms to hold it out to him. “I think you forgot this.”

He takes it from your hands and throws it around his shoulders, clipping it back on. He pats the chair next to him suddenly and you take the seat, looking over to see what he’s reading. It seems to be just a simple history book of Cainhurst and you begin to read it as well as it goes over the construction of the castle that took place many years ago.

You don’t notice how close you're getting to him physically as time passes until you're pressed up against him, your chin resting on his shoulder as you absentmindedly read the book. It seems he waits for you to finish reading before turning to the next page as he’s going at a slower pace than you’ve usually seen him. His free hand had snaked around your waist, being careful not to poke any of your bruises.

More time passes and you shuffle a bit, accidentally brushing a bruise on your hip against the hard chair and you flinch, Crow immediately noticing as he puts the book down to look at you and he begins to look over your gauze. “I’m alright Crow.” You say but he doesn’t believe it as he drags you onto his lap to get a better look at any injuries.

You don’t move from his lap, rather enjoying it as his hands overlook everywhere that he had patched up the night before but the tension in the library suddenly changes into something more, wanting..

His hands trail up your sides, more slowly this time, feeling you shiver lightly from his touch. He rests head head in the crook of your neck, the cold of his metallic mask making goosebumps rise from your skin. You know what you're feeling and you know what he’s feeling. Heat rises in your lower stomach as your breath gets hot and you feel yourself becoming wet.

Never would you have thought that you would let Crow touch you like this, you loathed his guts just a day ago and now you're letting him feel all over you. But yet again, he’s your husband-to-be so you should get used to touches like these.

Feeling his hands slowly move up your stomach and he stops just before he touches your chest, but you nod and give him permission to which he eagerly begins to feel up your breasts. You swear you can feel something hard pressing against your ass, and you easily tell what it is.

Even if you two were in a hidden corner of the library, you wanted a little more privacy. You're not sure about how he feels about possibly being intimate in a public place, but the way he’s acting it seems like he doesn’t care. “Wait.” You say in a low whisper, making him stop.

“Not here, let's go to my room.” You say and slide off his lap, taking his hand and excitedly leading him out of the library and through a few hallways and finally up the stairs leading to your room. You push the door open with haste and close it, locking it immediately after you both step in.

The few seconds that you had your back turned, Crow had uplifted his mask slightly to reveal his lower face. You turn back around to see it, and you're a bit surprised but you aren’t complaining, he does look rather handsome even if you can only see below his nose. He had a strong jawline with a clean shaven face and very pale skin. It almost made him look like a vampire.

He hardly wastes any time from the moment you lock the door to beginning to undress you. He’s surprisingly familiar with every button, and tie of your outfit and exactly how to undo it. Perhaps he has practice, or has waited for this moment for a while. Your outfit goes slack and allows him to easily pull it off of you, leaving you only in your undergarments.

You can feel him begin to kiss your neck as he slowly pulls down your panties, revealing just how wet you’ve become from his touches. You swear you could hear the smallest bit of a chuckle come from him before he removes your bra and fondles your breasts again, kissing and nipping all over your neck while doing so.

You feel his erection beneath his clothes as he fully takes in your naked form and one of his hands moves to begin undoing his belt, fumbling with it for a moment before it too goes slack and he’s able to reach into his briefs and free his cock. He’s of average length with a light-pink tip and a few visible veins.

He seems to be with the foreplay now as he puts his hand onto the small of your back to bend you over onto the bed. Your hands grip onto the sheets as you bury your face, burning with a blush, into a nearby pillow. You can feel his hands trail up your legs, thighs and to the sides of your lower stomach before settling themselves there, and you can feel the tip of his cock poking your wet pussy.

Everything he does is tender and gentle as he slowly pushes into you, being careful not to possibly hurt you. You feel yourself being slightly stretched as he enters and your eyes scrunch a bit from the light pressure, but it’s far more enjoyable than it is painful. Slowly but surely he manages to bury himself fully inside you and he stays still for a moment before beginning to slowly thrust.

The only sounds in the room you could hear was your own heartbeat and little moans of delight, even Crow makes a few groans which is the most noise you’ve ever heard him back verbally. He continues his slow thrusts, ensuring your comfort more than anything as he watches for any possible signs of pain from your bruised body. The pleasure is little but it builds atop of itself with each thrust and Crow seems to be very good at pleasuring you, even if it’s his first time bedding you.

Crow leans down to bury his face in your neck again as he kisses it, his helmet still covering his upper face. With each thrust he places another kiss on your neck, shoulders and even cheek. He moves one of his hands to reach over to your face and turns it to the side to face his and he envelopes your lips in a kiss.

The kiss lasts for what feels like an eternity but you certainly weren’t complaining, by the time he pulls away, you’re light headed from the lack of oxygen and a string of saliva connects both your lips before it breaks away. He and you breathe heavily, before delving into the kiss again, a bit more rough this time. Your body desperately burns for more of him and his burns for more of you.

His tongue explores your mouth as his thrusts get a bit faster. The kiss is almost bruising with how eagerly you both lean into it, and you don’t care if you get another bruise like the countless on your body. You can tell he desperately wants more and more, as the glisten of sweat begins to form on his body but you can also tell that he doesn’t wish to hurt you anymore than you already are, so he keeps his pace and doesn’t go too hard.

You break from the eager kiss first to regain your breath and Crow moves his face back down to your neck and sucks and kisses at it, trying to leave a hickey without a bite. But that’s the only ‘injury’ you want decorating your skin as you speak up. “Go on, I-I know you want to.” You give him permission but he clearly hesitates.

“Please.” Your voice lowers a whisper, “I want you to.” If it’s your wish, then that is his command as you feel his canid teeth graze over your neck for a moment before he bites down, a spark of pleasure running down your back and making you shiver. His bite isn’t too hard but it’s hard enough to leave a mark that would surely last a few days, but it’s not an issue for you.

The pleasure from his thrusts begins to mount upon each other more and more as you hold back on orgasming, wanting the sex to last longer. He groans into your neck as he feels you clearly trying your best not to finish and it only turns him on further. One of his hands moves down to snake under your stomach and to your clit as he begins to gently rub it, only making it harder to prevent your own orgasm from coming early.

You bury your face back in the pillow to silence your own moans as your body twitches and aches from needing its release. His hand expertly teases and rubs your clit while he speeds up his thrusts even more, with how wet you are his thrusts make an audible wet slap sound each time his skin connects with your own.

Your muscles tense as you begin to lose control of your own body. You can feel your legs stiffen the most and your stomach tying into a knot and the feeling of your own warm juices run down your leg and to the floor. It feels like you can hardly hold it back as some of it slips through your hold and spurts out.

Crow rather enjoys this and how flustered you’re getting as your legs twitch. He continues to please your clit, enjoying how your walls squeeze his cock and he begins to feel his own orgasm coming on as he shudders and he starts to get sloppy with his thrusts, beginning to chase his own high.

Breathing heavily, you can’t hold onto yourself anymore as you scream out in pleasure, your entire body shaking in pleasure as it finally gets the release it wants as you orgasm. Your muscles clench and you can feel a cramp forming somewhere from the sheer intensity of it but you don’t care about it now. Your pleasure-clouded mind only registering the feeling and what Crow does.

He can hardly hold himself either as his breath gets ragged, sweat dripping down his skin and just moments after your own orgasm, he gets his own as he groans loudly and digs himself deep inside of you, savouring the feeling of your warmth and wetness as he finally cums. It’s been too long since he’s been able to get such an intense release as this and his trembling shows it, his body releasing the years of pent-up arousal.

As you both slowly recover from both of your intense orgasms, you breathe heavily and eventually come out of your high, feeling Crows seed running down your leg and mixing with your own juices. He slides out easily from you, flaccid and spent as he too regains his energy. You could’ve hardly imagined you would ever end up like this with Crow, but now that it's happened, you wouldn’t mind it happening again.

You rest your head back on the pillow as exhaustion begins to overtake you and you feel Crow move from behind you and onto the bed next to you before he wraps his arms around your chest and pulls you next to him. He spoons you as he plays with your hair, gliding his hand through it which only serves to make you all the more sleepy.

The bed is so comfortable, he’s so warm, you’re so tired, it’s hard not to fall asleep instantly. You feel him pick up the blanket and cover both you and him as he keeps cuddled up against you. The fearsome Bloody Crow of Cainhurst likes to cuddle, how about that. You smile weakly as your eyelids get heavy and heavier.

It finally feels like your bed isn’t so empty, it was designed for two people and now it’s filled to its capacity, it’s the perfect size. You look forward to more days and nights where your bed isn’t empty, and maybe some nights in Crows bed too, at least until you can both agree to where you should both sleep all the time.

The words you wanted to say to Crow finally find their way out of your throat, yet they are only above a whisper. “I love you.”

He’s silent as always but the small squeeze he gives you is response enough.

—------------------------------------------------

It's been a few days since then and your bruises and cuts have healed, but some of your bones still needed a few more weeks to fully heal, such as your jaw and ribs but it mostly doesn’t bother you. It was made all the more bearable as Crow had waited upon you at every moment he had the free time, making sure your bandages were changed everyday and your wounds were kept clean until they were naturally closed.

As of now, you walk up the stairs to the queen's throne room with Crow right beside you. You needed to report what happened on the night of the hunt, as Queen Annalise always preferred to know what was happening in Yharnam especially if it involved the church and executioners. Probably because of the invasion that happened so long ago, which she most likely wants to prevent.

You walk into the throne room and up to the end of the red carpet before doing the proper vileblood bow and you speak. “Your majesty, I’ve come to give my report.” You say, noting Crow was standing a few feet back and watching the conversation.

“Tell me of thy findings and actions.” She orders and you do so.

“Many executioners have been dealt with by me and Crow, their population has been effectively kept down in the lower numbers.” You report the good news first, to which she seems to be happy with it. “But they have many more numbers elsewhere, they will most likely come closer into the heart of Yharnam eventually.” You report the bad news after and she understandably seems a bit uneasy.

“We applaud thee and thy betrothed for thy valiant efforts to keep the populace down.” She begins. “But we beseech thee to ensure more caution within the next night of the hunt, implore stealth and remain undetected.”

You assume this is the last of the conversation as you get back up and nod, “Yes, your majesty.” Just as you're about to turn and leave, she stops you.

“Wait, turn back around.” She says and you do so, a bit confused as she seemingly stares at you through her strange mask. Can she even see through the eye slits with the blindfold over them, but it seems she can as she almost giggles?

“We assume thee have resolved thy conflicts with thy betrothed?” She asks and your heart drops as you realise the hickey hadn’t been hidden all that well and your face burns with embarrassment.

“Uhm..” You stutter and fail to respond for a few more seconds, “yes we have..” You avoid any perceived eye contact with her as you stiffen up as Queen Annalise can most definitely tell what happened.

“Good, we hope this reunion bringeth in more vilebloods within our ranks. Thou art dismissed.” She almost sounds like she's about to laugh.

You immediately take your leave with Crow hot on your tail and you can tell he's quite amused with it as you swear you heard him snicker from under his helmet. You're never going to live this down.

Chapter Text

Content: Request! I tried to make NK have a range of emotions, from soft to harsh but hes mostly goofy and so sweet later, also kinda a perv in the first act, just a bit. (he doesn't speak in ye olde either, he just doesn't give that energy tbh). A bit of coercion in the first sex scene. Power imbalance. Two sex scenes, the second one has anal. Fanon NK (it’s hard asf to write for someone who has no voice lines. Also took some liberty on lore, it’s just for the fic don’t think too hard abt it..)

(We’re going to be using Faraam as his name, becuz like.. he’s not nameless for this story, not for a while lol. Also I just don’t like the name Gwynsen. Set in the past. Btw, ignore any lore discrepancies. I haven't watched a lore video in forever.)

(THIS IS FUCKING 34.K WORDS HOLY SHIT)

Working as a cleaning maid in the exquisite city of the gods, Anor Londo. Didn’t quite live up the expectations you had when you first began your job. Of course you knew what it meant to be working as a cleaning maid, all you’d do is clean certain parts of the castle that you were assigned too.

You were well versed in your job and it became second nature. You weren’t the only maid there, why would you be? There were possibly hundreds of servants always running about, all with their own chore to do.

The awe wore off after a quick few weeks but your job was mostly peaceful. Wake up in the servants chambers, get dressed, clean for the day, take breaks to eat, go back to cleaning and then go to sleep. It was a bit monotonous but you liked it, it was clockwork.

So that’s why when you were suddenly assigned to clean Master Faraam’s personal room, you were so rattled. Not only did it interrupt your schedule but it came out of the blue. You were just cleaning some dishes when your maid matriarch, Gertie, came up to you.

“(Name), I have to talk to you.” Her old voice rings out behind you and you turn around, a sopping wet wash rag still in your hands.

“Yes, Ma’am?” You address her with respect. She was the oldest maid here and so she was the de-facto leader, matriarch of all the maids. But she always seemed to have it out for you, despite you doing absolutely nothing to provoke her ire.

“You are to be assigned to the prince's chambers, Master Faraam, to be specific.” She holds up an unravelled scroll, one most likely brought to her by a messenger. “He has specifically requested you do so, this order is effective immediately. Your duties will consist of dusting, mopping, sweeping, setting the prince’s bed and general duty.” She reads off.

Gertie re-rolls the scroll back into itself and sets it down. “Now you listen closely, girl.” She suddenly grabs the collar of your cleaning maid attire and pulls you close to her. “Don’t do anything funny.” She sneers. “And don’t think this makes you any better than any of the maids, or me.”

You put your hands up and smile nervously at her, still wondering why she hates you for seemingly no reason. “I promise I won’t. That’s Lord Gwyn’s eldest, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything.” You promise, making the promise gesture with your fingers. “And I’m just a maid, always will be.”

“Good, now get going.” She roughly shoves you, nearly causing you to trip over your own feet. You quickly regain your footing and throw the sullen cloth back into the sink before skittering out from the scullery, relieved to be away from Gertie.

The other maids and male servants watch with curiosity as you practically run past them, with a nervous and slightly scared expression on your face. A few times you nearly ran into maids holding trays of food or dishes, who promptly chastised you as you ran past.

Running up the many stairs and turning confusing corner after corner, you make your journey with haste across the large palace. Master Faraams personal chambers were located at one of the highest points, overlooking the majestic city of Anor Londo. The closest you’ve ever got until now was the staircase leading up to it.

But now, you stand at the first stair. Your chest rattles with anxiety and exhaustion from all your running, your legs hurt and you breathe heavily. Taking a minute, you let yourself regain your breath. You want to be presentable when you enter the room.

Taking the first steps up, every step feels like an invisible weight pushing down on your back. This was Master Faraam, Lord Gwyn’s first born, an incredibly powerful god. And you're just going to waltz into his room and clean? But yet again, he requested for you specifically.

Confusion pangs your heart, why would he want you? He has an entire arsenal of maids at his beck and call that he could just call in and clean his room. Usually there would be a group that cleans up a gods room and they would switch every week. Probably to discourage any type of stealing or some other thing, but you didn’t question it.

You were never assigned to cleaning a gods room before, so this was your very first time. The golden light of the sun shining through the windows leading up to the room, hit your face. You stop suddenly and turn to look at the window.

Looking out, you're awestruck. It’s nearly the entire city of Anor Londo, even the walled circle enclosing it. You can even see the Duke's Archives from here in all its sophisticated glory. The sun, high in the sky, gives flashes of white reflections from the many noble houses.

The city, shining like gold is a mesmerising sight. You almost get lost in the sight but you pull back and shake your head, you’re not here to sight see. You’re here to get to your new cleaning post.

Taking the final few steps, you stand outside the large imposing door of Master Faraams personal bed chambers. You look around, confused yet again. Usually there’s more maids waiting outside the door, waiting for the rest of their group to come. But you’re alone.

Maybe you were early? And you needed to wait for them? But the idea you were to be working in a group was shot down yet again, as you waited for nearly an hour. If they were supposed to be here, they would have been here just minutes after you first arrived.

You know you can’t put off going inside any longer and sigh. Putting your hands on the large door, you push it open with some struggle as it groans from its own sheer weight. The room comes into view and to say it’s a disaster, is an understatement.

The bed is clearly not made, the sheets and pillows strewn about. The canopy’s bed curtains are loose and not tied to any of the four posts when not in use. A few, rather massive, clothes lay haphazardly on the floor. It looked like the room was never attended by a single cleaning maid.

Walking in, your instincts flare to clean as a thread of disgust weaves itself through your being. How was Master Faraams' room so dirty? Surely he would have it cleaned by any servant daily? But the evidence is piled against you.

A glint of something gold and shiny catches the corner of your eye. Turning to look at it, you awestruck again as your eyes widen. It’s a massive weapon, held up by golden hooks embedded into the wall. It’s Master Faraams weapon, one that he uses to tear apart his enemies and channel electricity.

A shiver runs through your spine. The weight of being in a gods room lays heavy on your mind and back. However, the weight falls as your itch to clean becomes unbearable when you notice dirt and various other unknown material staining the massive weapon.

You look around and decide that the bed would be an appropriate place to start. You walk over to it and reach for the sheet, which had popped out of place. It’s a bit of a struggle to even reach it, considering it’s in the middle of the gigantic bed but you do so and bring it back to the corners, stuffing it in.

Now the main blanket. You grab onto it and begin to spread it to the corners. But the blanket is so big that you had to walk around the entire bed and grab the corners to fix them up. Letting go, you back up and admire your work but now you need to put the pillows on.

You grab the biggest pillows first and are about to place them down but you face a small problem. You’ll need to get onto the bed to place them in the middle, where they last were. You contemplate for a few moments, do you really want to climb into a god's bed? Without permission? Could you ever get permission?

Banishing the thoughts from your head, you climb on the large bed and fluff the pillows before resting them against the large headrest. The bed is rather comfortable but you try not to think of it as you climb off to grab more pillows before climbing back on.

Finally done with the pillows, you fix up the blanket you crumpled a bit from crawling on. Turning your attention to the curtains you grab them and pull them to their respective posts and tie them to it. Your duty with the bed is done and you decide to start on the many clothes strewn about.

The clothes are rather enormous, even just a shirt is nearly as big as you. It makes folding them a bit more of a challenge but you do so and find their respective drawer, putting them in neatly. But in just a few minutes, you're already done with the clothes.

Looking around you admire your work once more. It’s looking way better than it was when you first came in. But a pit forms in your stomach as you realise what you need to do next, clean Faraams weapon. It’s only a weapon but just knowing who wields it feeds the pit.

Walking over, you grasp a soapy cloth on your hands and start to clean it. It feels almost wrong to touch the weapon of a god as fearsome as Faraam. You rub off the spots of stains and wash the weapon until it shines almost as beautifully as Anor Londo below.

It’s all done now. The entire room is cleaned and put together and your duties are done, now you should get back to doing the dishes as fast as you can, you don’t want Gertie mad as you again for very little reason. Walking to the door, you stop suddenly and it feels like your heart will explode.

Standing in the doorway, is a man- no, a god, Faraam. He is gigantic, his head nearly touching the doorframe and his mere presence radiates power and respect. You jump back as you had nearly walked into his crotch but you quickly regain your bearings and do a bow.

“Master Faraam.” You shakily address him, feeling your legs wobble. “Yo-Your room has been cleaned.” You stutter and mentally criticise yourself. But Faraam doesn’t really respond or move from the doorway so you build up the courage to talk again. “Master Faraam, I must get by, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Faraam crosses his arms over his chest and remains scarily silent for a few moments before suddenly letting out a chuckle and putting on a toothy smile. “I’m glad my new maid has done such a good job.” He pats your head. “But I think you missed something.” He suddenly turns you around and points at something.

“My apologies, Master Faraam but I don’t see what you're pointing at.” You shakily answer and suck in a breath as he crouches down and moves his head to be right next to yours, his cheek nearly smushed up against yours. He points again.

“There’s some dust.” He says and you notice the small layer of dust on a desk, only visible due to the light seeping in from the large window. He smiles and gently pushes you forward to urge you to go on.

You’re nearly stunned with how friendly the gods being but you don’t want to squander his positive mood. “Right, right, I’ll get to it right away.” You turn to grab a duster and quickly walk over to the desk and begin to dust it.

You’re slightly bent over to clean it and as you do so, you feel something grab the back of your maids dress and lift it. Before you can turn around, something large slips under your dress. Moments after, you whip around and find Faraam, his face under your dress and staring at Gwyn knows what.

“Master Faraam!” You squeak out and hold back on the urge to smack him. “What are you doing?!” Your face is nearly beet red but you don’t dare to move, nervous to upset him.

“Having a look.” His muffled voice responds as if nothing is wrong and what he’s doing is normal. “Nice.” He comments before pulling his face out and standing tall with a smile on his face. “I only want to get to know my new maid better.”

You turn around, the feather duster clutched in your hands. You’ve heard of this before, Faraam is a bit of a pervert, only to select maids and you figure that you’re now one of the select maids of his little desires. But you’ve also heard of a rule, one never to break, never form a bond with the gods.

That rule was drilled into you when you first came to work. Gertie was the one who told you of it and expanded on it further, they didn’t want humans to possibly have a relationship with a god, sexual or not. It was one of the few reasons why the majority of the male gods had no female servants, by decree of Gwyn. The light and the dark should not mix.

“Ah, Master Faraam. I cannot ‘bond’ with you, I apologise.” You nervously explain the rule to him, which you’re sure he already knows. “I am only a maid, please refer and think of me as so.” You do a small bow as another non-verbal apology.

He raises his brow and tilts his head, taking this as a little challenge. “Well, if you’re ‘only’ a maid.” He begins, “then I can order you around, can’t I?” Your heart sinks at his words but you nod. “Well then, I order you to climb on my bed.”

‘What’ your mind blanks. “Uh, right away.” You place down the feather duster on the desk and climb up his bed, sitting on the edge. You watch as Faraam raises his brow again and motions for you to scooch back.

You do so, still a bit confused but he keeps motioning for you to go back until you’re sat in the middle of his bed, your hands resting on your thighs. You await for more instructions silently.

Your heart jumps as he suddenly climbs onto the bed as well and grabs you, lifting you up into the air for a few moments before sitting you down on his lap as his back rests against the bed rest. He moves his hips to get more comfortable before letting out a relaxed sigh.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now, ya know.” He starts and begins to play with your hair, untying it from its neat bun and letting it fall. “I thought you were a pretty little thing. That’s why I requested for how to be my personal maid, from now on.”

A cold sweat runs through your body, is this allowed? If you and him were discovered like this, he wouldn’t be punished but you would most definitely be, possibly executed. Your hand grazes against your neck, already imagining the fall of an executioner's axe slicing through.

His hands stop playing with your hair, having already made a mess of it. “No need to be so stiff, if we’re going to become better acquainted, loosen up won’t you?” His laugh is boisterous as he harshly pats your back. It’s like he doesn’t realise just how strong a god is compared to a human is in strength, as it feels like your spine will snap from the playful pats.

Despite his words and attempts to ‘loosen’ you up, you remain as stiff as a log and mostly tight lipped. You feel his large hands trace down your back before pressing against the small of it. His eyes practically burn on you and send goosebumps all over your body.

“Hmm, I know.” He says suddenly and his hands reach under your maid dress and hikes it up, exposing your legs clad in the required stockings that maids were made to wear.

You can easily tell where this is going. “Master Faraam, we can’t do this.” You squeak out in a hushed whisper. and try to slide off of him but his hands grabbing onto your waist, keeping you from doing so. It feels like your body is betraying your mind as a flash of heat runs down to your crotch.

His hand moves and his finger traces the outline of your pussy through your panties. It almost tickles and makes you quiver just a bit. He lets out a small ‘hmm’ before responding to your protest. “And why not?” It’s like he doesn’t see a single problem in this.

“Your father, Lord Gwyn, has made a decree against actions such as this.” You try explaining the rule to him, but he doesn't seem to care. “It’s strictly forbidden for a human and god to, well..” you motion to whatever he’s doing.

He groans, annoyed, when he hears his fathers name. “Let’s not talk about my father.” His command immediately shuts down any ideas from you. “Besides, he’s not here to enforce it is he?” His fingers hook on the side of your panties and slide them down.

The feeling of a passing breeze against your most sensitive area makes you shiver. Your body wants this, but your mind is apprehensive. “We could get caught.” Your voice trembles with every word and your anxiety spikes, making every single sound, sound like footsteps coming to the door.

“No one comes around here, only I do.” He says. “And we won’t get caught if you’re quiet.”

————

Your hands clench harshly onto one of the beds post, your nails digging in. Sweat shines on your now, completely bare skin as you breathe heavily, trying your hardest to remain quiet.

“Just relax more.. there you go.” You hear Faraams voice echo out behind you as you do his bidding. His large hand trails down your back, sending strange little sparks up your spine.

You could hardly take him, he was far too big. He was a god, a giant compared to you, a human. Gods were never supposed to procreate with humans and the sheer size difference really shows it. His massive cock buried in you, only half way and you're already trembling.

The stretch is almost dreadfully painful when he first entered, with quite a struggle to even fit his tip. Even now, as he’s halfway inside of you, you’re overwhelmed. “I ca-can’t do this…” you whimper.

“You’re doing so well, you can take more.” Faraam says, rubbing your back to soothe your muscles to try and relax them. He pushes in just a little more, making you choke back a moan and cry of pain. He knows to be careful, his godly physiology could easily hurt you.

Hearing your small cry, he shushes you. “Shhhh… it’s almost in.” His hand that was rubbing your back, moves to cover your mouth. “Stay quiet, we don’t want to get caught do we?”

You meekly nod, tears brimming at your eyes. You feel so stuffed already, a large bulge already formed in your lower stomach from his sheer girth and length. You open your mouth to gasp in more air but Faraam takes this as an opportunity, pushing two of his fingers into your mouth.

He knows what he’s doing, he wants to hear every noise you make and go against his own words. He knows that you and him can be quite loud, as loud as he wants, the door is thick, the hallway outside empty and isolated, but he wanted to play with you.

You huff out, the fingers in your mouth pressing against your tongue. You try your hardest not to moan or cry out, replacing them with heavy breaths but it doesn’t hold up for long. His fingers in your mouth press down again and a loud moan escapes.

Faraam pushes his cock in further, wanting to hear more of your little cries and he’s rewarded with exactly that. He feels how you squirm and struggle just to take him, even when he’s only halfway. His fingers feel around your mouth, slathering his fingers in your thick saliva.

“You’re being so loud.” He playfully chastises, keeping his fingers in your mouth to keep your mouth open. “It’s like you want us to get caught.” His free hand grasps onto your thigh, spreading your legs a bit more to fit in easier.

“I’m-“ you're interrupted by your own moan when he slides in a little more. “S…sorry.” It feels like he’ll rip you apart from his size but your mind is already becoming hazy, overwhelmed by all your senses and what’s happening to your body. It’s too much to handle for a human body, yet, you still try.

“Tight fit…” he huffs under his breath, appreciating how you squeeze him with every breath of pain. To him, you’re the perfect size. He hasn’t gotten this sheer amount of satisfaction from just entering in his life. He knows this hurts you and he holds himself back, he doesn’t want to break his personal maid so fast. Soon though, he’ll get you used to this.

Your eyes scrunch shut in pain and sweat drips off your forehead when he finally sheathes himself fully in. Drool gathers in your mouth and dribbles down your chin or onto Faraams fingers. It feels like you're being crushed from the inside. Despite your pained and exhausting form, the tiny tangles of pleasure run down your spine.

He keeps himself still, feeling how your walls stretch to accommodate his cock. His hand, now covered in your thick saliva, removes itself from your mouth and travels down your stomach, before reaching your clit and gently begins to play with it.

Your knees buckle when the sudden feeling of pleasure mixes in with the dissipating pain. His fingers gently rub, the saliva coating acting as a lube for his rough fingers. His other free hand moves itself to grasp onto your breast, squeezing and playing with it to his heart's content.

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back and his face burying itself in the crook of your neck. The warmth of your skin on his makes him semi-consciously buck his hips, his body craving more of you in every way. He hears your breath stifle as he takes in your scent, inhaling as much as he can.

He feels you're stretched out enough and begins to slowly thrust, still being a bit cautious. “You’re taking me so well.” He whispers into your ear, keeping the slow and gentle thrusts and watching your reaction. He sees how your pained and scrunched expression slowly relaxes and feels how your muscles loosen.

You bite down on your bottom lip, your bleary eyes leaking tears from your overstimulated senses. But you can feel a warmth drip down your thigh, your own sheer wetness leaking down onto the bed. You're surprised by your own wetness, and further surprised by how aroused you really feel. All of your assaulted senses had blocked out the burning heat, only until now.

His tongue glides along your neck before his sharp teeth nip at your neck. “M..Master Faraam..” you moan out, the words slipping through your lusting mind. In response to your little whine, Faraam bites down onto your neck, enough to leave a hickey. His sharp teeth hurt and bury into your skin, but you don’t complain.

You feel Faraam use the hold on your neck to balance himself, his chest pressing further into your back. His thrusts become faster, more desperate for his pleasure. You struggle to keep yourself up, the weight of the god pressing on your back makes your legs shake and buckle until you can’t hold yourself anymore, collapsing onto the bed.

He’s not discouraged, Infact, this is better for him. You’re face down, ass up. His cock aches for more and he begins to practically pound you into the bed, pushing as far in as he can with each thrust. Every pound, you cry out in pleasure and your hands clench into fists.

Letting go of your neck from the hold of his teeth, he breathes heavily, sweating from the intense session. Any words die in his throat, his mind reduced to a husk, replaced by an animalistic need to feed his pleasure.

Your overwhelmed body shakes and you orgasm, the warmth running down your thighs and coating Faraam’s cock. But you can hardly even notice that you’ve orgasmed, your mind mostly forgetting about it immediately, only focusing on the god mounted atop of you.

Faraam feels his own orgasm gathering, his thrusts sloppy and desperate. The god doesn’t think of the consequences, he only wants his own release. He doesn’t think of the chance of a Demi-god being born from this union, or how his wretched father will most likely find out, sooner or later, of his activities with his new favourite maid. And his future plans.

He pushes as far as he can go, burying himself down to his balls. He lets out a groan as he finally climaxes, shooting ropes of cum inside of you. The sheer amount of his cum already filling you to the brim, and with nowhere to go, it overflows, leaking from your stretched pussy.

You reach your limit as he climaxes, feeling the warmth of his seed deep inside of you. Your body finally gives up as a wave of sudden tiredness hits you, and your eyelids become far too heavy to keep open. Only moments later, you pass out.

Faraam keeps himself buried inside for a few minutes, gathering his breath and clearing his mind. Taking himself out, with a wet ‘pop’ he chuckles lightly, seeing you passed out underneath him. Perhaps he got a bit too carried away with his want.

He feels his own exhaustion catching up and he lifts you, taking you in his arms to cuddle. Even a god can want to cuddle, and he most certainly wants. He lays on his back, lifting you into his chest. His head rests on his bed's fluffy pillows, he doesn’t bother with the sheets, he’s far too warm to put a cover on.

He yawns and looks out the nearby window, noticing the sun setting below Anor Londo’s horizon. Oh well, he supposes you don’t have much to do, and you're already sleeping, and he doesn’t want to wake you. So he lets himself get comfortable and with a relaxed sigh, he falls asleep.

————-

Your body aches and your muscles are sore as you awaken. You blink your eyes rapidly, trying to blink out the blurriness and tiredness plaguing them. But when your eyes clear, it’s still dark. Confusion reaps your mind for a moment before you piece it together, the room is dark.

The room is dark…the room is dark! Panic seers through your heart as you realise and you immediately try to jump up, only to be foiled by strong arms wrapped around you. You look down and find yourself on the chest of Master Faraam, who is sleeping and snoring rather loudly.

‘No, no, no’ your mind panics. You had duties to do, when you came into Faraams room, it was midday and now it’s well past midnight. How would you explain this to Gertie? She’s up at this hour and makes sure every maid gets to their room. She would find out and report it to Gwyn, and you’d be killed.

Trying to untangle yourself from Faraams' hold was not easy, his godly strength still apparent even when he’s asleep. It takes you a few minutes but you manage to pop out and onto the bed. As you hop off the large bed, you immediately regret it.

Pain seers through your sore muscles and you bite back a whine of pain. Your legs shake and struggle to keep you up as you get dressed in your discarded maid clothes. You manage to slowly walk, more accurately, waddle to the door, and use all of your strength to push it open. It creaks open just a crack and you squeeze through.

You limp down the stairs, hissing in pain with each stair. You’re already regretting just going into Faraams room as you know that this definitely won’t be the first time he’ll do this to you. You continue your long walk, dread building in your stomach.

The walk across the palace is eerily quiet. You’ve never walked around in the palace this late and the dark corners spook you. The lack of servants running around, leaving the hallways desolate, makes you feel lonely.

The pit of dread in your stomach feels like it will swallow you as you arrive at the maids chambers. Passing every wooden door, you flinch at every little noise. If you can just get your room, you can avoid Gertie and make up an excuse in the mornin-

“(Name)!”

You practically jump out of your skin as you whip around, your heart racing and cold sweat running down your forehead. Your eyes meet with the person of your fear, Gertie.

“Where were you?! You weren’t anywhere in the palace!” She walks up to you, shrieking like a mad woman. She harshly grabs your hand, almost enough to leave a bruise. “Tell me where you’ve been, girl.”

“Uh. I was…” you struggle to come up with an excuse. “Busy cleaning Master Faraams room. I was the only maid there.” You blurt out. It’s not entirely a lie, but it isn’t the truth either.

“Oh really? I'm sure cleaning a room doesn’t take up to eight hours.” She snarls, keeping your hand practically captive in her grip. “Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie.” You try to defend yourself and wriggle free of her grip. “Master Faraams' room is massive and it was very dirty. It took me forever.”

“If a room took you eight hours, then you're a lousy maid!” Gertie’s screams had already woken up numerous other maids, who peek out of their rooms to watch the commotion. “Tomorrow, you’ll catch up on all your chores.”

She turns to the other maids to shout. “Get back into your rooms!” Her screech immediately sends them back in, doors slamming one after the other. She turns back to you and looks you up and down. “What's wrong with you?” She sneers.

Your heart sinks. Your legs had been shaking and your muscles ached, and it clearly showed with how you stood. “Oh…” you scrounge up an excuse. “I fell when I was cleaning, I hurt my….my, my knees! I landed on my knees pretty hard.”

“Not only are you lousy, but you're fragile too.” She roughly lets go of your hand. “How did you ever infiltrate our ranks?” She harshly whispers, nearly spitting on your face. “Get back to your room.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You quickly squeak out and run off to your room. You slam the door shut, locking it and letting out a long sigh of relief. You were almost caught and that rattled you to your very core. If you weren’t careful, you would be found out. But yet again, not only you needed to be careful but Faraam needed to be too.

That was the problem. Faraam hardly had to be careful, and he clearly showed it with his recklessness. You doubted he would understand most of it, as he didn’t have many hardships in his godly life. He would probably keep you for far longer than he should, and consequently, get you in trouble with Gertie.

You sigh again and walk over to your bed. You were Faraams personal maid now, so you supposed you could make up more excuses that he needed to keep you around to help him. Although Gertie would most likely pile more work on you. You’re far too tired, and pained, to want to think any longer.

You lay your head down on your bed. It feels so uncomfortable compared to Faraams' soft, warm bed. Your bed feels hard, cold and all around terrible. But you can’t complain, you're only a servant and that’s all you will be. Closing your eyes, you fall asleep, dreading the morning light.

—————-

A loud banging on your door makes you startle awake and Gertie’s screeching voice comes through the door, slightly muffled. “Up! Girl! You have lots of chores to do!” Her banging persists for a few more moments before letting off.

Groaning, you rub your head, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You hardly had any sleep and now your back hurts from your hard bed. Sliding off of bed, you put on your maidens attire and mentally prepare for the exhaustion day ahead as you open your room door and walk out.

The hallways bustle with your fellow maids, all with their own list of chores to do. You squeeze past many other maids in the small hallway, ruffling a few of their dresses which they most certainly did not appreciate.

Your usual chores consisted of: scrubbing the floors, cleaning the windows, cleaning and putting away dishes and sweep. You grab the sponge and bucket of soapy water, being careful not to spill a drop.

Sighing you begrudgingly walk over to Gertie, who has a shit eating grin on her face. You, and every other maid had to go up to Gertie to find where you’ll be stationed to clean today. Usually it’s just one or two locations, but you know you have quite the chore to do.

“As I said, you’ll be catching up on your chores today. Scrub the kitchen floors, the east hallways, and the dining room floors.” She smiles. “Get to it.” She roughly grabs you by the shoulder and shoves you along.

You nearly stumble over your own feet and spill the bucket but you steady yourself just in time. The other maids turn to watch, having heard the harsh punishment given to you by Gertie. Small whispers invade your ears from the giggling maids.

“All of that? gee, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“Did you hear Gertie screaming last night?”

“Isn’t that Master Faraams new maid?”

If you were anyone else, you would've remembered that. But you inwardly groan, not only did you momentarily forget your new ‘personal’ maid duties to Master Faraam. But you’ll need to do his room after all of this.

Banishing the dread from your head, you prepare for the backbreaking chore. You usually only scrub one floor and the others are attended to by a group of maids. But as you walk into the kitchen, you bite your tongue. There’s no other maids, looks like Gertie put in a special order for you to do this all by yourself.

Grabbing the sponge, you crack your shoulders, prepare yourself. Mostly prepare your back for how sore it will be, and start to get to work.

——————

The dirty floors of the kitchen and the eastern hallways sparkle beautifully. You’ve finished those floors, which took you a good two hours each, added on extra minutes whenever someone would walk over the floor with dirty shoes.

But now, you scrub the floor in the dining room. You’ve been here before, a few times in scrubbing duty or collecting dirty dishes but it always felt so strange being here. This dining room was where the godly family would settle to eat.

Usually you’d only ever come here when they were eating on special occasions, such as serving food to invited guests, taking or setting plates and utensils. However it doesn’t usually happen, maybe one or two times a year do you ever do that.

Shaking your head, you focus on a particular spot on the floor, furiously scrubbing it. The little stain is quite stubborn though and refuses to give up. Your chore will be over if you can get this little spot cleared as every other nook and cranny has been scrubbed to where you could see your reflection.

Finally, after a harsh scrub, the little stain washes away. Your chore is finally done. You sit up and crack your aching back. Being hunched over practically all day didn’t do you any good, no matter that you were still a bit sore from Faraams affections.

Grabbing every item you used to clean, you gathered them into a bucket to transport them back to the maids quarters, where they belong. The clinks and monotony of your task distract you from everything else. To the point you didn’t hear the large door creak open and someone entering.

Every item was just about put back in the bucket before you feel two large hands grasp onto your shoulders and you let out a scream of terror. Whoever it was immediately clasped one of their hands around your mouth and a boisterous laugh erupts behind you.

“Calm down, It’s me!” The voice of Faraam calms your beating heart and you whip around, his hands falling away to rest on his hips.

“Master Faraam..” you clench your hand over your heart, “you scared me.” You nervously smile up at him.

“Yes, I could tell.” He laughs again. Maybe he scared you on purpose.. “But anyhow, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” He changed the subject, “come on, get up, follow me.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond as he begins to walk out of the dining room.

You quickly get up, nearly slipping over your own feet as you grab the bucket and scramble to catch up to Faraam. His size gave him a major advantage in speed, causing you to have to lightly jog to keep up with him. “Master Faraam, if I could ask. Where are we going?”

“The library.” He doesn’t sound very excited. “My father is making me study, and I want you to come with me, make it less boring.” He finishes and you wonder why a god would need to study, but you supposed that Lord Gwyn would want each and all of his children well rounded in every aspect, knowledge included.

You follow him slowly through many luxurious hallways, a few of them having some of your fellow maids in them cleaning or delivering items. Until eventually both of you arrive at the large doors of the spacious library and Faraam effortlessly pushes open the heavy doors. You wished you could do that..

Walking in, you take in the familiar sight of the grand library. The bookshelves practically reach the high ceiling and line every wall, a few stepping stools to reach higher books sat neatly. The smell of books and woods invades your nose, but it’s a pleasant smell. Faraam walks past you and over to a table with a few chairs, plopping himself onto one, looking uninterested.

You walk over and stand next to him, raising a brow in confusion as he clearly isn’t studying. No books laid on the table anywhere, and Faraam was clearly doing anything but studying, such as just staring at the ceiling with his eyes closed. “Master Faraam.” You catch his attention as he moves his head to look at you, “You told me that you were supposed to be studying?”

Faraam sighs heavily, “I know.” He said plainly, “But that's boring and I don't want to be chastised by my father, so if I stay in here for an hour or two, he’ll think I studied and I get off completely free.” He leans his head back again and closes his eyes.

Well, that just wouldn’t do. “What are you supposed to be studying?” You ask, already looking at many books. Perhaps you could help him with his studies. You don’t want any orders of Lord Gwyn himself to go unheeded.

“History” He replies plainly.

“What part of history?” You ask again.

“History of Anor Londo.” He says.

You don’t reply but instead move away from his side and to a bookshelf, where you knew all of the history books were stored and begin to shift through them. Faraam instantly notices the moment you move away from him and he looks over at you searching the bookshelf before eventually coming back to him with a handful of books.

“And what are you doing?” He asks, sitting up to inspect the stack of books and seeing their various labels all pertaining to the history of Anor Londo.

“I want to help you with studying.” You say and take a book out of his hands with the label of ‘Anor Londo History vol. 1’ it was a rather thick book and had a layer of dust on it due to it not being picked up in a good while. “I’ll read the passages, I just need you to listen and retain what I’m saying.”

Faraam takes a moment to think about it but he eventually nods, “Go ahead.” He crosses his arms and gets comfortable in the chair as he watches you crack open the old book and begin to read the first page. The first few sentences he does pay attention to the passages you speak of, but he quickly gets distracted as he stares with half-lidded eyes at your face. The sun pouring through large windows of the library hit your face just perfectly, giving him a beautiful view.

He hardly knows what he feels as his ears recognize your voice, a voice so lovely to him. And quite the appearance to match the lovely voice. The feeling is.. Warm, is all he can think of and he doesn’t want it to go away. He ruminates on the past, wondering just why he hadn’t picked you out for his personal maid sooner. He always only got a glimpse of you, or extremely short interactions but now he has you, in front of him. He should’ve picked you out sooner, then he would’ve gotten more times like this with you.

He could’ve talked to you so much sooner, he could have got rid of that aching pit in his godly heart so much sooner. Maybe he isn’t so lonely anymore..

The library is peaceful, quiet with only the sound of your gentle voice piercing that veil. With no one else around, but you and him, it is a private moment between you and the godly prince. You continue to read through many pages of the history book, being as clear as you can but something stops you. You look up from the page you’re reading and to Faraam, who stares at you with a lazy, yet captivated gaze.

“Faraam?” You say not even noticing you ditched the ‘master.’ a small smile creeping onto your lips. “Are you listening?”

“Hmm?” He hums before nodding, “Yes I am. Do keep reading, I’m enjoying it.” He keeps himself a little vague, but he mostly just wants to hear your voice again and enjoy the view.

“Well, if you were listening. What passage did I just read over?” You question him and just as you thought, he chokes up as his eyes widen a bit.

“Uh..” He struggles to answer as his eyes look away from you before he smiles lightly. “Alright, I wasn’t listening to the history book.” He admits and looks back at you, “but it’s hard to pay attention when you’re in front of me.” You swear you could see a tiny tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. “But do continue, I want to hear more of your voice.. Please.”

The heat blossoms like a flower on your cheeks and your heart beat increases as a new feeling of warmth spreads through your body. It feels like a dream, yet you compose yourself and shut the history book. “Well, this is clearly not working.” You say, and set the book down onto the pile. “How about lets read something else, something you like and something that will actually have you listening to me.” You jokingly chastise him.

“Really?” He’s a bit surprised, “Well I would prefer to read about dragons than reading about history.” he admits. “There’s a few books at the back, come on, I’ll show you.” He gets up out of his chair and begins to walk to the back of the library and you follow after him. You notice that he moves a bit slower so you could keep pace with him easily.

You follow him to an older looking bookcase, clearly not bothered in a good few years with some cobwebs and a layer of dust coating the books and shelf itself. But a few books had noticeably been disturbed recently, as they weren’t as dusty as their brethren. “Those ones.” He points to the books which didn’t have as much dust. But they were on a rather tall shelf, to even the point Faraam wouldn’t be able to reach.

“How do we get them down?” You ask and look around for any step stool to help you possibly reach the books but there's none in sight, and it probably wouldn’t be tall enough for you to reach even with the stool. Faraam doesn’t answer but he suddenly places his hands on your waist and lifts you up as high as he can.

“Can you reach them?” He asks as he holds you up. You quickly grab the books he was talking about and nod down to him.

“I have them.” You confirm and he slowly lets you back down onto the ground. “Thank you.” You thank him and another hue of pink dusts his cheeks. You both walk back to the table and Faraam takes the seat he was in before and you sit across from him. You open one of the books and begin to read.

Faraam pays attention to every word you speak, your voice sounding like honey. He already knows all the pages back to back, every word and sentence, but hearing you speak them feels like a new experience entirely. Only you and him exist in this private moment, and he doesn’t want it to end.

—-----------------------------------------------------------
The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky beautiful pinks and purples as faint stars decorate the darkening skies. You continue to read the last pages of the final book about dragons, not even noticing how much time has passed. But you read the last passage and close the book, setting it down on the desk before looking out the window. “Oh, sunset already? I could have sworn it was just midday.”

Faraam has a lazy smile on his face as he keeps his eyes on you, like he has for nearly the entire day, never getting tired of it. “We still have some time, could you continue reading?” He asks, not really noticing that you’ve read the last book.

You sigh, you wish you could, but you had duties to do. “Sorry Faraam, but I need to go back to my quarters. I don’t want to be chewed out by Gertie, again.” You add the last part under your breath and get up from your chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow Faraam.” You walk towards the door but you’re suddenly stopped by large hands gently grasping your arm.

“Wait.” Faraam quickly says, almost sounding a bit desperate. As you wait for him to continue his sentence, he becomes strangely tight-lipped and quiet, avoiding eye contact with you. He sighs heavily before speaking, “I’m not good at this..” he lightly laughs at himself.

“At what?” You ask, a bit confused. Faraam was great in about everything, besides studying.

Faraam struggles to find his words again. “I’m better with actions than words.” He says before suddenly cupping your face and slightly bending down to press his lips against yours. You're surprised but after a few seconds you melt into the gentle kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, only ever breaking apart to take in a gulp of air before continuing.

His tongue slips past your lips and greedily explores your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, squeezing every curve. Your body heats up in more ways than one as he slips his hand underneath your maids dress, hiking it up just like he did that fateful day. The room feels so tense, so hot that it’s near unbearable to contain yourself but you pull away from the kiss, to the disappointment from a clearly not satisfied Faraam.

“Sor..Sorry Faraam, but I really need to get going.” Your breath is hot as you speak. You lean to whisper into his ear, “maybe next time, tomorrow.” You hardly know where that boldness and eager to get into tomorrow already came from, but it hardly bothers you.

“Fine..” He grumbles but respects your decision, “I’ll be sure to call for you first thing in the morning.” He smirks and you playfully bat at his chest and he laughs.

“Good night, Faraam.” You walk to the library's door and manage to pull it open, just enough for you to slip through. Before the door fully shuts, you hear him say his own ‘good night’. As soon as the door shuts, you hold your hand over your racing heart and take a few breathers. You can hardly believe what just happened.

Your feet stay glued to the ground for a few more moments before eventually, you finally begin to move. You’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you never noticed the rushing footsteps heading away from the library, which clearly weren’t yours or Faraams. Your face burns with embarrassment, shock and that blossoming feeling of love. Were you really in love with Faraam? Gwyn's first born? A god? That Faraam? You could’ve fallen in love with anyone else, anyone! Another servant, a guard, maybe one of the chefs. But your heart reached for the highest grapes on the vine, and the vine reached back to meet it. This truly couldn’t end well at all, if you're found out, you will most certainly never see the light of another day.

But the way his kiss felt, the warmth of his hands and the way he looked at you, was just too much to resist and you found yourself wanting more and more… Were you even his maid anymore? What were you? It’s so hard to tell with your rushing mind. But maybe you didn’t want to just be his maid anymore, besides, no one needed to know.

You walk through the darkening hallways of the palace, and down a few stairs until you find yourself finally back at the servants quarter and you open the door. Finding a few servants idly chatting or going into their rooms, and you mentally prepare for Gertie to come storming out of somewhere and begin to scream and yell at you. But she never did. Huh, that's strange, Gertie is usually always here at this hour.

You suppose that's a plus of the day, but you still wonder where she could be. Walking past the conversing servants, they give you a small ‘hello’ and you wave back as you walk to your room's door and open it, walking in and closing it behind you, making sure it’s locked. You undress from your maids clothes and put on the standard nightgown, climbing into bed.

Looking up at the ceiling, you ruminate on the events of the day once again. It keeps you up for another hour, just staring up at the dinghy ceiling and the storm of thoughts in your head doesn’t help at all. But eventually, the heaviness of your eyelids overwhelms you and you let them close, letting sleep take you. You can’t help but feel excited for the next day and what's to come.

—----------------------------------------------------

The sun hardly peaks through the morning clouds and small window of your room as you're suddenly jolted awake by loud banging on your door. Seriously? Two mornings in a row, you woke up so rudely. You yawn and stretch, cracking your back as you stand up and quickly set up your hair and put on your cleaning maid outfit and eventually open the door, to of course, Gertie.

“Come with me.” Her voice sounds full of malice as she harshly grabs your arm and practically yanks you out of your room. Her eyebrows knitted together and what you could only describe as an ‘evil’ smirk dawning her face. “You impossible little wench.” She hisses as she drags you along.

“Ma’am! W-Wait.” You struggle to keep up with her as you nearly trip over your own feet with how rough she's being. Some of the other doors open up as fellow maids watch as you're practically dragged out of the servants chambers, you could almost feel their pity and fear. “What’s going on? Did I upset you?” You try to find the reason why Gertie seems to be so pissed. “If I missed a chore, I can make up for it.”

“This isn’t about chores, you little bitch.” She hisses at you as she continues to pull you through hallways. “You don’t think I don’t know what you did?” That statement makes your heart feel like it’s going to implode in on itself, could she know?

“Uh.. That I neglected a duty?” You try to come up with a lie, hoping to any god that she will confirm it is and you’ll just be saddled with more back-breaking chores.

“No!” She yells at you as she stops suddenly and you realise where she's taken you, to the very doors of Lord Gwyn's throne room. “Go inside, and answer for what you’ve done.” She opens the door and shoves you in, nearly causing you to fall to your knees but you catch yourself.

It feels like your heart is in your throat as you slowly turn around and to the large, tall and imposing throne with none other than Lord Gwyn himself seated upon it. His sword resting on the side of the chore. The little light of the very early morning didn’t help with your fear at all, as it was hard to make out his facial expression. But you immediately bow down, “Lord Gwyn.” You address him respectfully, your voice shaking. “I suppose that you wanted to see me?”

“Indeed.” His voice is terrifying, it sounds almost emotionless. “Madam Gertie has told me about you, and the sin you’ve committed.” You stay silent as Gwyn continues to speak. “You are fortunate that you have not been killed the moment you stepped into my throne room.”

“Lor..Lord Gwyn, my apologies but I have not an inkling of what you are speaking of.” You can feel your eyes starting to burn with terrified tears.

Gwyn doesn’t like this response as he harshly yells. “With my son Faraam!” You flinch harshly, already knowing that the secret is out. “Madam Gertie tells me that you have gotten ‘involved’ with him.” His voice lowers itself a bit, but it’s still booming. “Is this true?”

Your legs buckle with fear and you struggle to answer, tripping over your own words. “Y..Yes it-it is.” Your voice is comparable to that of a mouse, so quiet and terrified as you await his response. Is this it? Will you be executed? Is this the last morning you’ll ever witness?

Gwyn suddenly stands up, a grimace on his face, visible even in the low light. “That is the one crucial rule, you hath failed to abide by.” He begins. “You are far too fortunate that I will not have you executed.” Even with this assurance, you still can’t calm down. “This is only a warning, do not ever engage my son with such vileness again. You are only a maid, act like one.”

“Yes, Lord Gwyn.” You manage to squeak out and slowly make a move for the door. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear him say one last thing.

“Do it again, and you will not live another day.”

You exit the room, not even realising until now that hot tears fall down your cheeks and how weak you feel with fear. Cold sweat runs down your forehead as your heart feels as if it's about to burst out of your chest. Luckily, Gertie is nowhere to be found to antagonise you further.

A few pieces fall together as you finally figure out where Gertie was last night. She must have seen you and Faraam in the library and went to snitch to Lord Gwyn. You can hardly stand as you take a step, and then another until your body instinctively begins to walk through the hallways, intending to get to Faraams room. You can hardly tell why your first instinct is to get to Faraam, but you follow it anyway.

Your slow walk turns into a speed walk, which turns into a jog and then eventually a full on sprint. The golden hallways of the palace blur past you, the hot tears in your eyes nearly blinding you. The sun had risen to its morning state as of now, lighting up the palace which didn’t help your eyes at all. Maybe you felt like running to him because he's the only person you think you can trust?

Gertie couldn’t be trusted, obviously, and a few of the other servants couldn’t either, they’d just rat to Gertie and then Gertie would tell on you to Lord Gwyn. A choked hiccup makes it out of your throat as the fear of what Lord Gwyn would do if you were found out a second time. It makes you feel like prey looking up into the jaws of a wolf.

As you run through the halls, you pass a few servants who all give you a concerned and curious stare. You harshly turn and see the stairs that lead up to Faraams room and you rush to them, stepping up them as fast as you can. When you finally reach the top of the stairs, you’re exhausted. But luckily, it seems Faraam was prepared for you as the door opened a crack.

Slipping through the door, you see Faraam on his bed, without his shirt on and seemingly waiting for you. He turns to see you with a smile, “Finally, took you long enough. Now lets-” He cuts himself off as he notices your rattled state. The tears falling down your cheeks and how much you shake like a leaf. He instantly jumps out of bed and over to you. “What's happened!?”

It hurts to try and speak as you hiccup and trip over your own words. It feels like there’s thorn covered vines wrapping around your throat, preventing you from speaking clearly. You’ve never felt fear like this, and it was consuming your every sense. You feel Faraams hands rest on your shoulders before pulling you into a tight embrace, one of his hands undoing your hair and running through it in an effort to calm you.

You must tell him, but it’s nearly impossible in the condition you are in. You let yourself let out all of your fearful tears for a good few minutes before you finally gather your bearings and have enough sense to speak. “Faraam, Lord Gwyn knows.” You say, your voice raspy and pained with strain.

You can feel Faraam physically tense up as he sucks in a quick breath and goes silent. The tension in the room is palpable as he remains silent and you calm down further and further until you speak again. “Faraam? What should we do?” You whisper, unsure of where to even begin to possibly cover up the relationship further or just give up on it.

He’s silent for another few moments before speaking, “(Name), there’s something I need to tell you.” He lets go of you and moves around you to the door, looking out both ways before reeling back in and shutting the door, locking it. “And you can’t tell anyone, even if you don’t agree with it.” He's clearly serious and not his usual self, and it spooked you.

You feel a bit apprehensive but nod, “I won’t tell a soul.” You keep your voice down to a whisper, “I promise.”

“Understand that I’ve been dwelling on this decision for a while now.” He begins, walking past you. “But I’ve come to a conclusion as of late.” His mysteriousness feels like it’s going to kill you as he sighs heavily before speaking again. “I’ve decided to abandon Anor Londo, my right to the throne and to side with the dragons.”

Stunned silence over takes you as your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. Faraam looks at you with a mix of concern at your reaction. You struggle to find the words but eventually do. “What? Faraam, why would you-“ he cuts you off.

“My father isn’t the lord that he wants you to believe. He’s a scared, idiotic man who would do anything to further his age of fire.” He sounds almost angry. “Even if it meant sacrificing the people under his rule, or possibly his own children.”

It feels like everything is shifting around way too fast as your mind races. Faraam forgoing his right to the throne, siding with the dragons and preparing to leave Anor Londo? Lord Gwyn, a terrible ruler? It feels like your brain is hurting, but you remain silent and allow Faraam to continue talking.

“The reason I am telling you this, is I wish for you to join me.” He says.

“I-“ you begin but stop yourself, what were you going to say? This is a life changing decision and you can’t just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without weighing the options. “Please just, let me think about this.” He reluctantly nods as you walk over to his bed and sit on the edge, thinking over it.

If you denied going, what would remain here for you? You were only an insignificant maid in this palace, a face in the sea of thousands all made to look and act the same. But he treated you like a friend… like a lover.

Could you really stay in Anor Londo when he leaves, and you have nothing to look forward to other than going to bed every night? Gertie would never let this go and you doubt Lord Gwyn would ever forget either. Would he get rid of you when Faraam is gone?

The thought sends an unpleasant pit of dread in your stomach. Were your days numbered in Anor Londo? Possibly, leaning on yes. Faraam made you feel like the day passed in a matter of moments, instead of dragging on like they used to.

But if you agreed to go, you would truly be locked in with Faraam and there would be no going back. Where would you both go? And what would you do? You’d enjoy Faraams company of course, you always do. You’d never be able to return to your old life though.

Was there really anything to go back to? Gertie and her.. her bitching, Lord Gwyn apparently being a fraud. The other maids and servants would definitely know of your kiss with Faraam because of Gertie and her big mouth. Thinking about it harder, there really were no positives here..

“I understand if you won’t go with me, and I will not force you to-“

You cut him off, “I’ll go.” Your heart races as you make the decision. “I-I don’t know if this is the right choice but, I’ll go with you.” And just like that, you were entangled in Faraams life from then on.

Faraam suddenly brings you in a crushing hug as the tension in the room snaps in half, giving way for his normal self to come through. “Thank you.” He mutters against the crook of your neck as he nuzzles his face in. “I thought I would have to be alone.” He adds the last part in a hushed voice.

He pulls away with a big grin on his face before suddenly rushing past you and grabbing his signature weapon, carrying the massive thing like it was nothing before walking next to you and holding your hand. “Come on, I need you to show you something.”

“Oh, what is- woah!” You feel him suddenly tug you along as he unlocks the door and swings it open, rushing out and down the stairs. You try to keep up with him, having a hard time doing so as he’s practically running. You wonder what's got him so excited. You nearly trip over the stairs as he rushes down them, pulling you along.

He brings you through hallways and more stairs, your legs already starting to get sore from needing to run to keep up with him. “Faraam, slow down!” You plead with him and he suddenly tugs you up off of your feet and throws you over his shoulder, never slowing down while he does so.

As Faraam sprints through the hallways, you can see a few other servants looking at you thrown over his shoulder with confused and shocked faces. They better not rat to Gertie. Eventually, Faraam turns one last corner and through opens a large door, running out of the palace.

It’s been a good while since you’ve set foot outside of the palace itself. You’ve been in the courtyard of course, but you still considered that a part of the palace. Now your curiosity has peaked. Where is Faraam taking you? “Faraam, where exactly are we going?” You ask.

“You’ll see.” Is all he says as he moves through forest and even jumping over a smaller gorge with ease. You were getting quite far from the palace as you see it shimmering against the midday sun in the mere distance. It’s quite the beautiful sight to see but you turn your attention back to wondering where Faraam is taking you.

The winds get colder and colder as he brings to higher and higher elevation, the ground becoming more rocky and less foliage appearing. Just where are you going? You let out a small ‘oh’ as he gently lets you off of his shoulder and places you down. From what it looks like, he's brought you to a high up rocky outcropping. The skies are a bit cloudy but not dreary as you take in the sights before you.

A dense stretch of forest underneath the outcropping, and in the distance sits Anor Londo in its golden glory. You're so enthralled by the sight that you don’t notice Faraam moving up a bit before he lets out a sharp and loud whistle, as if he’s calling something over. You walk next to him, confused. He's just full of surprises today.

“What are you doing?” You say but he doesn’t respond as he whistles again, his eyes searching the clouds. You look up and search the clouds as well, wondering what he's looking for. So far the clouds just seem like normal, white fluffy clouds…

A tiny flash of dark purple in the clouds makes you look twice. What was that? Your eyes dart around, trying to find it again but it doesn’t show up. That is, until Faraam whistles again and that flash of dark purple begins to descend down onto the rocky outcropping. As it gets closer, your image of it gets clearer and clearer.

It looks feathered and clearly has wings.. And, it’s quite big too.. Wait, is that a dragon? Your heart races as you gasp and turn to run in fear but you're caught by Faraams strong arm. “Calm down, calm down. It’s alright.” He keeps you in place as the dragon, or drake gets closer and closer.

“Faraam! That’s a dragon, we have to leave!” You harshly whisper as you struggle a bit in his hold but he keeps you still. As it gets closer, you notice more details. It was feathered and had an extra pair of smaller wings. It was skinny and had a long neck with curling horns. It slams down right in front of you and Faraam, kicking up dust and debris.

Faraam lets go of you and he walks up to the dragon.. Or drake, and pets its snout as it cuddles its head into his hands. Just what is going on today? Faraam turns to you and speaks. “Come on, come meet him.” He beckons you over but you stay rooted to the ground, staring up at the giant drake in fear.

You’ve been fed the fear of dragons and drakes your whole life. Even if Faraam told you he was siding with the dragons, you weren't expecting one to just show up and cuddle up to him. Faraam lets go of the dragon's head to walk over to you and grabs your hand. “It’ll be fine, he’s not going to bite you.” He has to tug you a bit to get you moving but soon enough, you stood in front of the drake.

“This is The King of The Storm, he is a storm drake.” Faraam introduces you to the storm drake. You keep your hands close to your body, still full of fear but Faraam takes your hand again and gently guides it to the drakes snout.

As your hand hesitantly lays on the drakes snout, it lets out a sudden huff and you go reeling back with a gasp of shock. Faraam chuckles, “Don’t worry, he’s only getting your scent.” He says as the drake reaches its head to come to you again and huffs a few times before letting out a snort and a deep chitter.

“See? He knows you're with me, he won’t harm you.” He says walking past you and petting the drakes head again. But you clearly aren’t convinced as you still quake in fear and Faraam notices. His face lights up again as an idea comes to him. “Hey, how about a ride?”

“Oh, no, no, no.” You stutter and move back a little but Faraam quickly runs up to you.

“Come on, it’ll be quick.” His hand stays on your back as he attempts to guide you back to the drake.

“No!” You say a little louder than you meant to, “I mean, no. I’m fine down here.”

Faraam suddenly lifts you up again as he begins to walk back to the drake. “Hey! Wait, wait!” You struggle in his hold but your pleas fall on deaf ears as he commands the drake to lower its head as he hops onto its neck and positions you to sit just in front of him, one of his hands held securely around you.

Faraam takes his swordspear and points it to the cliff as the drake begins to get a running start. “Faraam! No, you can’t be serious!” You yell, feeling terror at the prospect of flying on the back of a drake.

“I’m very serious, hold on!” He says and you immediately grip onto his arm as hard as you can, and he winces a bit. The drake gets faster and the wind picks up and it jumps just before it reaches the edge of the cliff. The drake falls for just a moment before its wings pick up the wind and it begins to ascend rapidly.

Your eyes scrunch as you hold in a scream while the drake flies up and up and up. The wind rushes past your ears, drowning out every noise other than Faraams excited yell as you both get closer to the clouds. The drake lets out a roar, as if mimicking its rider as it goes into the clouds.

Moisture clings to your skin and the cold breeze makes you shiver and goosebumps erupt on your skin as the drake flies through the thick clouds before suddenly coming out on top, sending a few puffs of clouds scattered about. It ascends higher only for a moment before settling itself in a straight line and you hesitantly open your eyes to a beautiful sight.

Many white clouds paint the sky, some seeming as high as mountains or making magnificent patterns. The beautiful sun peeks over the clouds, painting them pinks and yellows for miles on end. Small openings below you allow you to see the forest, which seems so small now, and so much more. Waterfalls, the tops of mountains, rivers and even the distant sea glimmering with the sun's light. You could’ve only dreamed of a view like this, but now it stands right in front of you, more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined.

“See? Not so bad.” Faraam says from behind you as he sees your mystified expression. “I’ve always wanted to share this view with someone. I’m glad it’s you.”

You don’t realise you still have a death grip on Faraams arm and you slowly let go to rest them on the drakes feathery neck. “Y-Yeah, I suppose it’s not that bad..” You look down and still feel that tang of fear with how high up you are. “But don’t do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You say with a sudden flare of anger.

“Sorry, sorry.” he laughs, “but I doubted you would ever get on if I didn’t carry you on.”he's right, which makes you a bit angry. “And, you wouldn’t have gotten this view either.”

You can’t stay mad at him for long as you sigh and reluctantly nod, “fine, I suppose you're right.” You begrudgingly say before looking at the view again, letting it calm you down and letting yourself forget about the worries of the world below. Flying isn’t so bad after all..

Faraam seems to be enjoying the view as well, but he’s quickly getting bored as he lets out a hum before getting another ‘brilliant’ idea. He suddenly wraps his arm around you again, “Let's do something fun now, shall we?”

“And what's that?” You feel a tiny bit of dread, already having an inkling of an idea of what his definition of ‘fun’ is.

“Going fast.” He replies and points down with his swordspear. The drake immediately responded to its master's command and dived straight down. You scream as your heart jumps to your throat, the wind rushing past your ears again as the drake pierces through the clouds with extreme speed. The forest gets closer and closer as it keeps going straight down.

Your eyes water, trying to keep their moisture as the wind attempts to dry it out. It feels like the dive lasts a lifetime before Faraam points up with his swordspear just before the drake collides with the forest and it reels up, keeping its speed from the dive. The trees bend and move from the sheer speed the drake is going.

The drake makes a wide turn, narrowly missing the wall of the cliff as it kicks off of it, sending a few rocks flying down. As the drake flies with extreme speed over forests, gorges and rivers. You slowly start to let go of Faraams arm and grab onto the drakes feathers. Your heart still races, but it feels as if it’s in a good way..

A large river comes into view as the drake flies over a large gorge and you can see Faraam point his swordspear toward it and the drake does its master's command. It gets closer and closer to the river until it’s barely just touching the water, but the sheer speed it's going causes the water to fly up and splash both you and Faraam. The drake flies across the long river for a few moments before ascending again.

You let out a gasp of surprise as the cold water splashes onto you, soaking your hair and clothes. This wasn’t so bad actually, hell, it was even fun. As you soar through the air, the wind and heat dry you off and you begin to gain some confidence.

One of your hands let go of the drake and fixes up your hair, which had gotten quite messy from the ride and water. Laughing lightly, “that was quite fun.” You admit, not minding to go again.

“Aren’t you glad you came on?” He smiles as he commands to slowly begin circling an opening in the forest before descending and landing with a thud, kicking up a few flowers.

Faraam slides off the drake with ease and you don’t need to ask him for help as he already holds his arms out to catch you. You slide off and land in his arms, “what a gentleman.” You jest as he lets you down onto the flower covered ground.

“Only for you.” He laughs.

You smile and then look around, having landed in a flower field. In the distance stands many mountains with snowy tops and a river flows only a few hundred feet away. It’s been far too long since you’ve experienced nature like this. You haven’t even noticed your skin had slightly paled with lack of sunlight but you can clearly see it now.

Sitting down on the field, you pat the spot next to you to invite Faraam to sit. He immediately does so without hesitation and his hand entwines itself with yours. You both sit in silence, just admiring the scenery in a comfortable quiet.

But you break the silence to ask Faraam a question, “Hey Faraam.”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to ask, since you told me you’ve known about me for a while, why didn’t you make the request sooner?” You ask, a few birds flying by and chirping.

“Request what?”

“For me to be your personal maid.” You clarify.

“Oh, well…” he struggles for his words for a moment. “Well uh, I just thought that you wouldn’t want to.” He plucks a flower from the ground and fidgets with it, seeming nervous, which surprised you. “It just seemed that you were perfectly fine doing what you’ve always been doing. I didn’t want to suddenly change everything and ruin something.”

“Well you’ve certainly changed everything.” You say and he looks a bit concerned for a moment. “But you never ruined anything, I’d say you improved my life in these past few days.” His expression calms immensely when you say that.

“Infact, I really wouldn’t have minded if you had requested me sooner. I would’ve preferred it actually.” You continue.

“Really?” Faraam raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes really, the job was getting far too monotonous. The change of pace would’ve really been welcome.”

“I knew I should’ve requested you sooner.” He mutters to himself but you clearly hear it. A few butterflies fly by and land on the flowers near you and Faraam, resting or drinking nectar. Faraam sighs, “then I wouldn’t have been so alone for so long.”

“You were lonely?” You're surprised. A god like Faraam, lonely? Surely he could’ve had many that wanted to be his friend.

“Yes, even if I had people lining up to become acquainted with me, it never really felt like they were really a friend.” He confides. “All they wanted was either my power or to get a higher standing by becoming my friend.”

You swear you can see a tiny blush appear on his face as he attempts to hide it with his large scarf, “it’s part of the reason I request for you. I suppose I wanted a friend of some sort.” His response is a little muffled from his scarf.

Seeing an opportunity for some fun, you attempt to pull his scarf down but he keeps it up. “Come on, did I see you blushing?” You tease him as you keep trying to pull it down.

“No.” He averts his eyes, his face getting redder. “I’m not.” Looks like lying is one of Faraams weaknesses.

You stand to try and pull it down more as you wrestle with Faraam to get it down and see his face. Faraam suddenly grabs you and lets himself fall over onto his back, dragging you atop of him. Your legs straddle his waist as you quickly balance yourself, your hands resting on his chest.

Your face heats up as you realise the compromising position you're in.

“Well, who’s blushing now?” He teases, “hm, I quite like having you on top of me. In many different ways.”

“Yeah, ha ha.” You hold back a smile as you admit your little defeat. “Maybe later, just not in front of the drake.”

Faraam looks to his mount who is happily on its back and thrashing around, kicking up dust and flowers as it takes what appears to be a dust bath. A bit of dust gets in his face and he coughs. “Yeah, how about tonight?”

“Sure.” You agree immediately and then look out to the sky, noting that the sun is already beginning to set. Time really does fly when you're with Faraam. “Speaking of tonight, we should properly get back before anyone gets suspicious.” You say, getting off of him and standing back up.

He dusts off some dust clinging to him as he stands back up and whistles to catch the drakes attention. The drake looks up as it struggles to get off of its back for a few seconds before getting back on its feet, with feathers covered in dirt.

You walk over first, finding no fear of the drake as Faraam walks up behind you and commands the drake to lower its neck again so he and you can get on. Just as he’s about to help you up, you put your hand up to reject his help and manage to get up yourself. Faraam getting on right behind you.

Just as the drake begins to run to get its heavy body in the air, you crane your head up to the clouds in the distance as a sound peaks your interest. It sounded like a distant roar, almost like Faraams drake but it surely didn’t come from him. As you look around, Faraam notices just as the drake takes off.

“What is it?” He asks, looking to where you're looking which is the cloudy skies that are darkening from the setting sun.

You stay silent for a few moments as you still try to find what made that noise before giving up, “I thought I heard something.” You say and brush it off as you and Faraam look forward again as the slowly but surely ascends into the sky, offering a more relaxed ride.

Eventually the drake reaches the clouds, obscuring your vision for a minute and covering you with humidity before it reaches the tops of the clouds. The clouds had covered most of the skies by now, making it look as if the skies ground were the clouds themselves as it almost looked like an endless field.

The stars began to come out as you and Faraam slowly made your way back to Anor Londo, which was rather far away. It was rather calm, you could fall asleep up here really. The moon itself was just peeking up over the clouds as the stars got brighter and brighter, but something just felt off, stopping you from feeling so comfortable as you kept looking back and to the sides.

Unbeknownst to you, Faraam was feeling it too and with how you're reacting, he's starting to get a little nervous. He’s not nervous about the thing itself, he’s more nervous about possibly invoking some sort of fight in the air. He would be alright, but he wouldn’t want to fight with you as a passenger, it would be too dangerous.

You crane your neck to look over at your right and you finally see what's been bothering you. There is something clearly following the drake from underneath the clouds, its silhouette just beneath the visage about thirty feet away, and slowly inching closer. “Faraam.” You speak lowly, feeling almost as if you yourself are being hunted and you point to the large silhouette beneath the clouds.

He looks to where you point and he can recognize the shape of the silhouette. It’s another storm drake, and one of similar size to his. He should’ve expected this, you were both still deep in storm drake territory and it would be a while before you were both out of it. Best he can do is hope the wild storm drake doesn’t decide to engage in a fight.

“Keep holding on.” He instructs you as you take a handful of his drakes feathers in your grip, your head still turned to face the silhouette. “It’s another storm drake, a wild one.” He says. “It could become aggressive, stay focused.”

Faraam silently commands his drake to fly a little faster, attempting to get out of the wide territory of this wild storm drake but the wild storm drake only speeds up to match with his. It seems his drake had sensed it now as well as it chitters and snorts, clearly distressed as it occasionally looks to its side.

You could see the clouds start to part as the wild storm drake gets higher, it’s smaller, spiralling horns breaking through the clouds first. Before its head eventually comes through and its body follows.

The wild storm drake is clearly the tiniest bit smaller than Faraams drake. It lacked the extra horns like on Faraams drake, and instead of deep purple feathers they were a shade of brown with white speckles. It almost reminds you of a deer fawn. If a deer fawn was a massive flying dragon-relative with hundreds of sharp teeth and fire breath.

It chitters as it looks at Faraams drake and Faraams drake responds with a chitter of its own. You furrow your brow, it’s almost like they’re communicating. But you try not to think too hard of it as you feel Faraams drake slowly descend.

“We’re surely out of its territory by now, why is it still following us?” You ask, still looking at the wild drake.

“I’m not sure.” Faraam says as his drake gets lower and lower, lifting its claws out to land on the rocky outcropping where you originally took off from. The drake lands with a ‘fwoosh.’ its claws scraping against the rock for a moment. “But stay behind me.” He says as he slides off, helping you down and standing in front of you, his grip on his swordspear tightening.

The wild storm drake lands as well, about twenty feet away. It doesn’t seem very aggressive as it looks at Faraam, to his drake and then to you. It stares directly into your eyes with its own, and it takes a step forward. Faraam gets more tense as he seems to prepare for a fight as the tiniest bit of electricity crackles through his swordspear.

The wild drake stops and looks at him, growling. In response, Faraams drake takes a defensive stance as it spreads out its wings to appear bigger and more threatening, the sliver of the setting sun having reflected its feathers beautifully and definitely made the drake scarier.

It almost seems to be highly focused on you as it keeps.. Just staring, not snarling, growling or showing any aggression. Which you thought was strange, yet endearing and curious. You take a step forward and Faraam snaps his head toward you, putting his arm out to stop you from getting closer. “What are you doing? It’s wild, I don’t want it to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, looking more closely at the strange drake. Nothing.. Nothing, there! A bald patch in the drakes neck catches your attention, and the dried blood around it. You can’t see what caused the blood, but the drake was clearly hurt. Perhaps that's why it followed both you and Faraam.

You try to move past Faraam but he stops you again, grabbing onto your arm. “(Name), stop.” He says, a bit more authoritatively. “Don’t take another step towards it.”

“Faraam please.” You look at him and then back to the drake. “It’s hurt, I think it wants us to help it.” You point to the patch in the neck and he notices it now. But he hesitates before he puts his arm down, still clearly tense and untrusting of the wild drake.

Walking past Faraam, you put up your hand to show you aren’t a threat as you take small, slow steps to the wild drake who keeps staring at you. Your heart races in your chest, feeling as it’ll break through your ribs the closer you get to the drake. The drake still shows no aggression as it lets out a low chitter, lowering its head as you get closer.

The drake is only a few feet away as you reach your hands out, shaking and covered in cold sweat. If this was the wrong choice, it would end quite badly. The drake lowers its head even more until its head and neck lays on the ground and its wings relax on the ground. Drakes clearly were smart, so it was either tricking you or it knew you wanted to help it.

Your hand hovers over its snout as you hesitate before laying it down on the front of its snout, the rough skin feels strange. The drake lets out a huff, but you don’t flinch or spook, already knowing what it's doing, getting your scent. “There, there..” You say, slowly walking to the side of the drake as it keeps its head and neck on the ground.

You can finally see what caused the dried blood, a metal bolt buried deep in its neck. Poor thing survived a hunting attempt, you can’t help but feel sorry for it. You gently touch the sides of the bolt and the drake flinches and lets out what you could only describe as a pained growl.

“(Name!)” Faraam takes a few rushing steps forward, but stops as he sees it doesn’t attempt to attack you.

“No, no it’s fine.” You look over to Faraam, who is clearly nervous with how close you were to the wild drake. You go back to the bolt and gently pet the drakes neck, who lets out a trill. Now, how will you get this bolt out and patch the wound it’ll surely leave after you take it out. “Faraam, could you come here?”

Faraam wastes no time in quickly rushing over to you, all while eyeing the drake. “What is it? Do you need my help?” He says quickly, his hand clutching onto his swordspear even tighter that his knuckles become white.

“I do, could you grab the bolt?” You ask and he’s clearly surprised by your request. “I want you to help me pull it out.”

“Are you sure about this?” He’s more concerned for your well-being and his own, he has a weapon and training and you don’t. “It could become aggressive.”

“Yes I’m sure.” You grab onto the bolt, the drake letting out a pained snort but not moving. “Grab on.” Faraam stops for a moment, stunned by you commanding him, but he doesn’t protest as he grabs onto the bolt.

“Pull!” You command again and you both begin to pull. The drake flaps its wings frantically as it roars in pain, but it doesn’t make an attempt to get away, only thrashing in pain. It looks as if it's deliberately avoiding hitting both you and Faraam with its thrashing limbs. Faraams own drake looks at the wild one in pity.

The bolt stays in place for a few seconds as you and Faraam struggle to get it out, until you start to feel it move, some fresh blood leaking out from the wound. The drake lets out another roar and flails around, nearly hitting you with its wing, luckily missing you by just a foot.

“Keep pulling!” Your voice is strained as you start to break out in a sweat. The bolt starts to move again in as more blood pours out, some warm droplets splattering onto your arms. The drake struggles and almost sounds like it's crying, but it keeps its neck down and pulls the opposite way to help get it out.

The bolt suddenly goes slack for a moment before being violently ripped out of the drakes neck with a spray of hot blood. It lets out a final roar before it collapses on the ground in pain, kicking its claws. The blood pours from the wound, coating the ground.

You want to rush up to the drake to help it, but with its flailing you need to wait for it to calm down enough until you can get close. You let go of the bolt and let Faraam hold it as you run over to some bushes and begin to pull off large pieces of its fronds and gather them in your hand. Now all you needed was something sticky to keep them together and form a makeshift bandage.

Looking at the trees, you can see sap leaking out of them. That would do for now. You run over to the trees and collect as much sap as you can and stick the fronds together. You run back to the drake who still hasn’t calmed down yet. You look over at Faraam, “Hold its head down while I bandage the wound.” He nods and immediately drops the bolt to rush over to the drake's head, and it only takes a moment before he manages to grab onto its horns and with his godly strength keep its head on the ground even as it struggles. His own drake seems frightened by the display.

You take caution to avoid any flailing limbs as you get closer to the gushing wound and eventually get to it, some warm blood splattering onto your maids uniform. Great, now you’d need to wash that off before Gertie finds out. You clutch onto the home-made frond bandage and pat it down onto the wound, letting the sap stick to the feathers of the drake. It may not be comfortable for it, but it’ll have to do before you can get actual bandages, if you can find the sheer amount it’ll need for how big it is.

The drake flails around for a few more moments before it lets out loud huffs, clearly exhausted as it lets its wings slow down and lay on the ground before it finally stops moving altogether.

“Okay let her go.” You instruct Faraam and he slowly lets go of its horns and when he sees it isn’t struggling or making a lunge for it, he backs away and goes back to your side.

“Her?” He questions, raising his brow.

“Yeah, her.” You know what you're saying. “I thought that would be more obvious since you like dragons so much.” You playfully quip and he gently swats your shoulder. “But yeah a her, look at her feathers.” You gesture to the brown and more drab feathers compared to his own drake. “She’s less colourful than yours and her horns are smaller, and she's fully grown so her being an immature drake isn’t on the table. So she, is a female storm drake.”

“Huh, I thought I would’ve noticed that sooner.” He admits, crossing his arms over his chest as he overlooks the exhausted drake.

You walk over to the snout of the drake, hearing it huff and puff to regain its energy. You still feel pity for the poor thing as you pat its snout in an effort to calm it down further, and to your surprise it pushes its head weakly into your hand. It reminds you of Faraams drake interacting with him.

“Look at that.” Faraam says, “she likes you.” he walks over to you and attempts to pet her too but she growls at him and he retracts his hand. “Not me apparently.”

You laugh at his misfortune, “it’s alright.” You wonder if the drake can even understand you but it seems she can as she goes back to pushing her snout into your hand. She suddenly begins to stand up, having regained her energy. “There, you’re all good now-”

She suddenly licks you and you're covered in drake spit, and now it's time for Faraam to laugh at your misfortune. “Ohh, gross.” You try to wipe the spit off but with how thick it is, it’s nearly impossible. She licks you again and you don’t have time to get away and you're drenched now, but at least your maids uniform doesn’t have any more blood on it.

“How am I going to wash this out?” You complain, already wanting to get it off.

“There's a river nearby, you can wash it off there.” Faraam says, overlooking you and trying not to laugh. “Actually, I think we should go now.” he starts to walk off and you follow him.

As you both walk off, you can hear the thudding of the drakes behind you as they follow. You look back as you descend from the rocky outcropping to see the female storm drake pushing Faraams drake out of the way to catch up, and Faraams drake respectively falling to its side before quickly getting back up.

—--------------------------------

The small journey to the river was a lot harder than it should’ve been due to the darkness of the night, but you eventually made it. You and Faraam were both silent the whole way, but not the drakes who were shoving each other and crashing through the trees, making a few fall. Drakes were a lot more majestic in the air than they were on the land.

The river in front of you sparkles gently with the moon's light and you let out a sigh of relief, “finally I can get this spit off.” you begin to undress yourself but stop once you realise Faraam is shamelessly staring at you. “And what are you staring at?”

Faraam is still shameless, “at you.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” You raise your brow at him, “I’m undressing, so would you turn around?”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you fully naked,” he smirks.

Sighing, you decide to drop it but it doesn’t really bother you as you finish taking off your dress and unclip your bra, letting it fall. Your panties and stockings come next as they slide off easily and you kick your shoes off. All with Faraam staring.

You put your clothes in a neat folded pile, deciding to wash them after you're done washing your skin. You then take a step into the gently flowing river and immediately regret it as it’s freezing cold and you jump back, “shit, that's way too cold.” you curse, not wanting to freeze.

Faraam walks over and dips his foot in, not really reacting. “Come on, it’s not that cold, you just have to get used to it.” He reaches his hand out and you hesitantly accept it as you put both your feet in the water, goosebumps shooting up your bare legs from the cold. “There, let's go in deeper.” He takes another step in but stops, “hold on, let me take my clothes off first.”

He steps out for a moment and you watch him as he undresses, his clothes and bits of hard armour clanking around loudly. He practically throws it all off into a messy pile before he’s in his underwear and then he pulls that down too and that's when you turn away, still not really used to seeing him completely bare.

You hear him step back into the water and stand beside you, but you keep staring at the water. “What? You’ve seen me naked before.” He teases you and grabs your shoulders lightly and playfully shakes you a bit.

“I know I have.” You shut your eyes to avoid possibly seeing his lower-half, “you know what? Let's just get on with it.” you take the first few steps nice and slow, getting more used to the cold but Faraam suddenly rushes past you and you unfortunately get the view of another full moon for a second.

He splashes you as he rushes past and jumps into the deep end of the river, splashing you again with an avalanche of water. You let out a yell of surprise as the cold water gives you quite the rude awakening and your teeth chatter with the cold.

“Come on!” He gestures you over, wanting you to come in further. “It’s the perfect temperature.”

“No, it’s not! I’m freezing!” You cross your arms over your chest to try and conserve heat.

Faraam sees this as a challenge as he begins to walk over to you with that familiar smile and your heart drops, “Faraam don’t” you take a step back but he doesn’t respond and just keeps getting closer. “No, no, no! Throw me in and I will never forgive you!” you take a few more steps back and just as you're about to make a break for it, he grabs your waist and lifts you over his head.

“You need to get clean somehow!” He laughs as he steps back into the deep water while you struggle in his hold. “Hold your breath!”

You let out a scream as he drops you into the cold water and bubbles rush past your head before you get your head back out of the water and stand up, the water reaching just below your chest. “F-Faraam, I’m going to freeze!” Your teeth chatter. “I’m never forgiving you for this.”

“It’s only some water,” he splashes you, acting more like an excited child than a respectable war god. “See, the spits off now.” He gestures to all of you, now rid of the thick, gross spit. “No need to thank me.”

You roll your eyes, “alright, I won’t.” You turn your back to him and begin to wash your skin in the water, wanting to get any remaining stuck gunk off of you.

Faraam doesn’t expect your answer as his eyes widen a bit. Wanting more of a reaction, he attempts to go in front of you but you turn your back to him again with a sly smile. You’re ignoring him! How dare you!

He keeps trying to go in-front of you but gets the same reaction as before. Crossing his arms, he thinks for a moment. “Are you mad at me?” He asks but you obviously don’t answer, he really doesn’t like to be ignored. “Do you want me to apologise?” He snickers, taking it light-heartedly.

“Mhmm.” Your answer is short but simple as you wash your hair in the river's water, your back still turned to him.

“Alright, alright.” You hear the water sloshing as he walks behind you, “I apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

You hear him sigh behind you, “I apologise for dropping you in the water.”

You stay silent for a bit, wondering if you should give him what he wants but you feel his hands snake around your waist as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. Now you can’t ignore him. “Am I forgiven?” he says, and you can see him smiling in the corner of your eyes.

You can’t keep up the ignoring act for long, “Yes, fine you’re forgiven.”

“Good.” He says before you feel him place a big kiss on your cheek and your face heats up, he kisses you on the cheek again and on the third time you turn your head to kiss his lips. He’s surprised but it’s a welcome surprise as his hand travels the sides of your body, starting from your hips to your chest.

You can clearly tell he’s getting aroused, and you suppose you should keep the promise you made, it is technically night after all. You don’t really have to worry about the drakes because last time you saw them, the female drake had uprooted a tree and was playing with Faraams drake, or was trying to hit it with the tree, you aren’t sure.

Your body responds similarly to his as you feel heat rising in your lower stomach and a more pleasurable wave of goosebumps crawls up your skin. His exploring hands reach down to fondle your pussy, making you shiver in delight. His fingers easily slide in, the water acting as a lubricant.

His erect cock pokes at you as you feel his hot breath quicken, needing his own pleasure as he slowly pleasures you. But his fingers are already in and surely he wouldn’t be able to fit his cock in there with them, but perhaps a different way.. You feel him poke at your ass, and you move a bit, unsure.

“Could I?” He asks, wanting to make sure it’s alright with you.

“Please be gentle.”

“I will.” He assures you as he positions himself and starts to press his cock against your ass, his fingers which were still deep inside your pussy feel around until they find where he wants them to go and presses down, putting pressure on your g-spot and your back arches with pleasure.

You can feel him apply more pressure as he begins to push his cock inside, the pain, pressure and pleasure all mixing into one. You bite your lip, sucking in a breath to ease the pain but it’s bearable.

“Are you alright?” He whispers, stopping to make sure.

“Y-Yeah, it doesn't hurt that much. You can keep going.” you give him your assurance and he takes it as he pushes in deeper, the pain beginning to fade as pleasure starts to replace it. Who knew you would’ve liked this, or would have even participated in it.

He lets out a groan of pleasure as he gets deeper, his cock being nicely squeezed when you flinch a bit. His fingers keep curling inside you, putting pressure on your g-spot over and over but stopping for a few moments to keep you from orgasming too early. He rather enjoys hearing your moans and hitched breaths every time he presses down.

Soon, his length is fully in. It feels a bit strange to have it in the back but it isn’t all too bad. He keeps himself still for a minute as he uses his thumb to massage your clit, feeling how you react with every little muscle tense and movements. His fingers curl inside you again and he shudders with pleasure, feeling you tense around his cock again as he does so.

You can feel yourself practically aching from your own arousal as your entire body heats up, the water isn’t so cold now. A cold wind passes through and you shiver, your bare chest reacting to the cold and your nipples hardening.

Faraam immediately notices and takes out one hand to fondle and grope your breasts, teasing your nipples a few times. His lips graze against your neck's skin and you hear him take a deep inhale, taking in every bit of your scent. He kisses against your neck, trailing his kisses down to your shoulders and back up to your cheek, his teeth occasionally grazing against your skin.

He slowly begins to thrust, the water sloshing around both of you as he does so. You scrunch your eyes shut as the feeling of his small thrusts, curling fingers and massaging thumb feels all too much but in such a good way. Small pricks of tears sting your eyes from your body trying to process all of it at once.

“How is it?” He sounds breathless, “do you need more?” he smiles, rather loving to see you struggle to respond in this state.

“Please.” Your voice is low, he clearly hears it but pretends not to as he continues to tease you.

“I didn’t hear you, repeat what you said.” His thrusts get a bit faster, small beads of sweat from the combined heat of his arousal and your body against his begin to form on his forehead.

“Please, please!” You shout out, your words slightly echoing. He’s surely heard you now.

“Well, since you said please.” He can’t contain his raging arousal anymore and he feels you're stretched out enough and suddenly gets faster and faster in his thrusts, the water splashing around now as his breath comes out in ragged huffs.

You feel as he goes back and forth, his cock reaching far in each time and you moan with every thrust, heavy amounts of drool beginning to form in your mouth and Faraam notices, using his hand that was once groping your breasts to open your mouth, causing the drool to dribble down your chin.

Gods, he loves it when you look like this. He thrusts harder, feeling his pleasure beginning to mount upon itself and he struggles to keep his pace and not cum immediately, he wants you to orgasm first. His fingers curl more and press harder on your g-spot and his thumb teases around your clit.

Your body aches even more as you can’t contain it anymore as hot tears roll down your face from the stimulation and you let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body shudders, tensing up and orgasming, releasing yourself on his fingers only to have the juices swept away by the flowing river.

Moments after you orgasm, he drives himself inside as far as he can and finally lets go and cums with a loud groan of satisfaction. Both you and Faraam breathe heavily as you both attempt to recover from the coupling, the fluids being washed away in the river. At least you didn’t have to worry about cleaning yourself.

He slides out with ease, aided by the lubrication of the water. Faraam wobbles a bit, spent and exhausted but manages to keep himself up. You yourself struggle to stay up and he notices, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you up as he leads you out of the water and onto the shore.

“Can you hold yourself?” He asks as you both get onto the grass.

“I think so.” You slip out of his hold and wobble for a moment before regaining your balance and attempt to stand straight up, but a sting of pain from your backside stops you from standing fully straight.

Faraam notices and feels a bit bad, “Sorry, I didn’t think of the aftermath.” He says as he retrieves his previously discarded clothing and starts to put it on, with it being equally as loud putting it on as taking it off.

“It’s alright Faraam, I had a good time and that’s all that should matter.” You assure him and go to your clothes, which had been splashed by the water when you and Faraam were going at it, so the drake spit had already been washed away but your clothes were still a bit soaked. You hardly cared though as you put them back on, they’d dry before you’d get back to Anor Londo and into the palace.

The moon had risen to its highest already, “I think we should get back now.” You say, not really caring anymore of being possibly chewed out by Gertie for not coming back to the maids quarters during curfew, which was hours ago.

Faraam nods before he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, calling over his drake and the female one from deep in the treeline. Although, it looked like his drake was running from the female instead as she attempted to hit it with the uprooted tree. And by the loose purple feathers on some of the tree branches, she was successful in some hits.

Faraams drake runs behind him, whimpering as the female stands a few feet away in front of Faraam with the tree in her mouth and eyeing Faraams drake. You suppose you should get her to stop beating up his drake as you walk over to her. “Drop the tree.” You command and she does so, the large tree landing with a loud ‘thud!’

“Good girl.” You praise and she pushes her snout into you, wanting pets and you do so, petting her rough snout as she chitters happily.

“So what's her name?” Faraam suddenly asks.

You look towards him, a brow raised in confusion. “What? What do you mean?” you ask, your hand still petting the drakes snout.

“She's your drake now isn’t she? So did you decide on a name yet?” He pats his own drake's neck, a few feathers falling out.

You didn’t really think of it that way. The female drake as your own personal drake? A mount and pet just for you and it’s this powerful dragon-relative who acts more like an excited dog than a fearsome dragon. “Oh uh..” you struggle to answer, knowing if you gave her a name then she would truly be your own drake. The female drake pushes her snout further into your hands, bumping against your body as she purrs. Surprising you that drakes can even purr.

Could you really handle such a big responsibility as having a drake as your own pet? It did sound rather exciting and quite the brag to have a drake willingly as your companion and mount that can fly, breathe fire and boast massive claws and teeth. You couldn’t just send her away, it didn’t feel right after you helped her with the bolt in her neck.

“I think I’ll name her..” You ponder on the possible name choices for a moment before finally settling on one. “(Dragon name),” You name her and she seems to like it as she purrs louder before suddenly rolling onto her back and kicking her foot like a dog.

“Congratulations, you're now the proud owner of your own storm drake.” Faraam jokes as his own drake still cowers behind him. “I should teach you how to ride actually.” he wonders how he’ll be able to do that if you’ll be mounted on a drake different to his.

“Sure!” You excitedly accept his offer. “When should we get started?”

“Woah, calm down.” He puts his hands up and laughs, “we can get started on flight training tomorrow. Meet me in my room once you’re done with your chores and we can sneak out.”

You scratch under (Dragon's name) chin and she thoroughly enjoys it, “I’m going to rush through my chores then.” You joke, already planning out how to do it. If you wake up extra early, you’ll get a massive head start and Gertie won’t have any time to scream at you.

“Then it’s settled, flight training tomorrow morning. But for now, let's get back to Anor Londo.” He says and makes a different whistle and his drake begins to take off and fly off into the night sky. He looks at you, “Aren’t you going to call her off too?”

“Oh, how do I do that?” You say as (Dragon’s name) stands back up, looking at Faraams drake flying away.

“Any way you choose, I trained Storm King to leave with a whistle. But I suppose (Dragon’s name)’ll need more training before she can do that.” He explains.

You look at (Dragon’s name) and decide a simple command would work for now, “Go, go on.” you shoo her but she just tilted her head. “Uh, fly away.” You try another command but again she just stands there. “Go bother Storm King.” Suddenly, it’s as if she completely understands you as she flaps her wings a few times before taking off into the air, definitely going after Storm King.

She’s easier to see in the night than Storm King is, so when you hear a screech and see her attempt to bite something, you know she's found Storm King. You hope she doesn’t try to kill him, hopefully she won’t..

“Sicking your drake on mine?” Faraam asks, “I’m hurt.” He dramatically feigns his hurt as he puts his hand over his heart and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“What? She clearly likes him, look how they play.” You sarcastically say as you watch them fly off, (Dragons name) still nipping at Storm King while he tries desperately to avoid her claws and teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, let's get back to Anor Londo now.” Faraam says, looking at the distant city. “Think you can walk all the way there or do you want me to carry you?”

“Could you carry me please, I’m really sore.” You ask, not feeling embarrassed to ask and he does as you say as he walks over and slings you over his shoulder, beginning to walk back into the tree line and to the city.

—--------------------------------

Arriving at Anor Londo, he lets you down from his hold before going up to the giant closed doors and easily pushing them open wide enough for you and him to walk through.

The dark halls of the palace are a bit unnerving but the biggest threat to you is Gertie and Lord Gwyn, who are both most certainly asleep by now. You and him both walk in silence, your footsteps echoing lightly.

The walk is peaceful and your mind was mostly on getting to your bed and sleeping, and hopefully sleeping off your sore body by then as well. You look to the side and recognize a hallway going the opposite way you were going to go, this is where Faraam and you will have to split.

“Goodnight Faraam,” you say, your voice echoing down the halls.

“Goodnight, (Name), don’t forget about our plans.” He says, clearly sounding tired before he turns into the hallway and walks away to get to his room.

You go into the opposite hallway, yawning tiredly. As you walk, you think back on today. You really have your own drake now, and you're going to learn how to fly on your own tomorrow. It’s just all so exciting that you can’t help but smile.

Hmm, how would you command your drake? Faraam uses his sword spear, which is huge and big enough for his drake to see and understand his non-verbal commands. But you don’t really have anything to point or command with. Would she feel you tug on her neck feathers to move side to side or no?

You should also stock up on bandages to replace the thrown-together fraun bandage you put on (Dragons Name). As you make plans for tomorrow and ponder on other things, you hardly realise when you come to the door of the servant's chambers.

Taking a deep breath, you cringe when the door creaks as you open it. You want to go undetected and hopefully not wake anyone up as you tip-toe through the chambers and down the hallway, passing many rooms.

Any sound makes you flinch and stop, but most of it was just snoring or the occasional cough and shuffle of a bed sheet. You could’ve sworn you heard muffled, hushed talking behind a few doors but you don’t care enough to listen in on them.

Reaching your room's door, you carefully twist the knob and open the door as quietly as you can and slip you inside, gently closing the door behind you. In the privacy of your own room, you smile widely and you almost feel too excited to sleep but you slip off your maiden uniform and put on your sleeping clothes instead.

You walk over to your rather uncomfortable bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling as you think of the promise of tomorrow and the inevitable future. Of course, you are a little nervous, this is the biggest change in your life after all. Yet you can’t help but feel so excited and giddy, like a little kid getting a gift. It feels like your life has truly begun.

You found it horribly hard to sleep that night but eventually you finally close your heavy eyes, and fall asleep.

—---------------------------------------------

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately jump out of bed and look out of your small window, to see the sun had hardly even peaked over the distant mountains. Yes! You’re up far more early than you ever were! Now to get your chores done!

Rushing over to your drawers, you throw them open and scrounge for a clean maids outfit and find one within seconds, quickly throwing it on. Pulling up your stockings, you nearly fall over as you squeeze your feet into your shoes. You're surprised no one banged on your door yet, you're surely making a lot of noise as you rush around and nearly knock everything in your room over.

It only took you a record time of ten minutes to get ready today and you swing open your door to find Gertie, just about to knock. “Good morning ma’am.” You greet her with a smile and a polite bow, you really aren’t happy to see her at all but you can’t control your giddiness for today. “What are my chores today?”

Gertie seems shocked as your acting quite different than you usually are, “Uh, w-well your chores today are-”

“Wait, same as always right? Clean the eastern hallways floor, do the morning dishes and clean the windows? Got it, thank you ma’am.” You rush past her as she is still shocked into speechlessness.

Grabbing the required tools, such a bucket filled with soapy water, a mop, a rag and a sponge. You pick them up, nearly spilling a few drops of soapy water onto the ground as you rush around and out of the servants chambers. You know the first thing you want to do is the eastern hallways, get the biggest chore out of the way first.

As you run around, you pass a few other servants who you rarely ever see because they work during the night and they seem as equally surprised as you but you smile and wave, “good morning!” You yell as you rush past them.

Arriving at the eastern hallways, you make sure no one else is around before you dip the mop into the soapy water a few times before setting it on the ground. Normally you would take your time with this, but Faraam is waiting! You practically run with the mop as you clean the floors to the point they sparkle. Your best job and it’s when you're in a rush? Oh well.

The floors are practically sparkling as you finish in a record time of only thirty minutes, now time for the windows. The windows are horribly tall and you need a ladder, luckily you know there's a stache hidden nearby just for the servants to use. Speed-walking to the hidden stache, you nearly trip with how slippery the floor is but luckily you don’t as you pull out a ladder and place it next to the first window you want to wash.

You begin to wash the window with a soapy rag from its bottom first and gradually go up the ladder more and more as you get higher. It’s dangerous but you lean from the ladder to reach the further parts of the window. The ladder wobbles beneath you but it stays and you go back down to place it at the other windows. By the time you’re done, the sun has finally settled into its morning position. Usually this was the time you were finishing up doing the floors.

Hopefully, the godly family has finished their breakfast by now so you can get started on the morning dishes early. You pick up the bucket and decide to just throw the rag inside as you use your other free hand to pick the mop back up. You make your way back to the servants chambers to get to the back kitchen, passing by a few of the usual servants who are just beginning their morning chores.

Your presence and happy attitude certainly don’t go unnoticed as you arrive back in the servants chambers and drop your tools off.

“Happy today aren’t we?” An older servant laughed, she was a rather sweet one.

“Yup, I’m nearly done with my chores already.” You hear a few gasps and whispers from the other servants and the older servant simply laughs and mumbles something about ‘the youth and their energy.’

You slow down a bit, knowing that it's an unspoken rule not to run in the chambers so you don’t knock anyone down. But you still speed-walk and squeeze past a few other servants who seem a bit annoyed or surprised as you do so. You eventually open the doors to the back of the kitchen and see the chefs just putting in the dirty dishes into the sink.

Holding your sponge, you go over to the sink and immediately begin work as you dip your sponge in soapy water nearby and squeeze it. You take the plates first and begin to wash them as you find they’re the easiest to clean and they stack nicely when you put them to the side to dry and be collected by other servants.

The plates pile up as you clean each of them to a sparkle and then go to the utensils and they practically form a neat organised pile next to the plates as you finish them as well. Any dirty dish that's added to the ditty pile is dealt with almost instantly by you. You're cleaning the plates faster than they are getting dirty and being put in the dirty pile.

As you finish the morning dishes, you patiently wait a few more minutes to make sure you don’t miss a single dish and when none come through, you put the sponge down and speed-walk out of the servants chambers. The moment you're out, you break into a sprint again as you rush through hallways until you get to the familiar hallway and rush up the stairs, nearly stepping on your maids dress as you do so.

Knocking on Faraams door, you hardly have to have to wait as the door opens nearly immediately as he was waiting for you. He seems to notice your giddiness and chuckles, “excited for your flight lesson?”

“Yes!” You’ve hardly felt this type of excitement and happiness in what feels like forever, “are we going now?”

“Yeah, let's get going. We’re taking a more discrete exit, we don’t want anybody seeing us.” He grabs onto your hand and you're already prepared as he intertwines his hand with yours and pulls you along, and you keep up well. He’s a little slower than usual and you appreciate it as he goes down the stairs and peeks over the corner, making sure no other servants are in the hallways.

It’s clear and he moves around the corner and does the same for a few other hallways until you both eventually get into a more forgotten part of the palace. Anor Londo's palace was huge, so without a doubt more places would be neglected than others. What this place looked like was probably once a way for servants to get around without being seen as many doors and stairs either leading down or up were present.

“How’d you find this?” You ask Faraam as he leads you to a certain door and opens it, revealing a spiral staircase going down-ward.

“I have a lot of freetime, and it’s handy when I don’t want to be seen.” He says and starts to go down the stairs, which clearly weren’t designed for someone as large as him as he has to crouch but his thick hair still drags against the ceiling. You follow him down, having to strain your eyes a bit to see in the darker parts of the stairs.

You get a bit dizzy from the spiral pattern until eventually it ends and leads to a door covered in overgrown roots and vines. The sounds of the outside make themselves known as you hear the muffled song of birds and blowing wind. Faraam pushes open the old door with a bit of trouble from the roots holding it in place.

He walks out and you come out moments after him. Has this exit always been here? If so, it was clearly never used in what looks like decades with how overgrown the door and wall is as you look back.

Faraam begins walking again, pushing through some shrubbery and you hardly realise that the overgrown trees and branches he pushes out of the way were obscuring an old path. Your foot gets stuck in a root for a moment but you manage to wiggle it out. The overgrown path finally begins to lessen up as you and Faraam get deeper into the forest.

A few stray branches nearly hit you as Faraam moves them out the way and they swing back at you, but you always managed to duck or crane your head out of the way as you follow him through the path. Eventually, you start to recognize where you both are as he picks you up for a moment to jump over that small gorge.

He lets you back down after he jumps over the gorge and he gestures for you to continue following. The trek to the familiar rocky outcropping was quite easy and when you both got there, the sun had risen a little more. Hopefully no one wants you for anything back at the palace.

Faraam does that familiar whistle again and it echoes around. For a moment the clear skies show no sign of his drake but two roars respond as you see his drake and yours coming down from the sky. They both land, but they are clearly too big to share the outcropping as they are squished up together with Faraams drake getting the short end of the stick as it clearly struggles to stay on the rocks and not fall off the cliff.

“Hey!” You greet (Dragon’s Name) as she sees you and immediately runs over to you, pushing her head into you and knocking you onto your back. You let out a ‘oof’ as you land but laugh it off as you pet her snout and scratch her chin, which she responds to with loud purring and rolling on her side.

In the corner of your eye, you can see Faraam and Storm King interacting as Faraam pets the calm drake. You could swear that Storm King had more feathers in some spots yesterday. (Dragons name) probably was responsible for his lacking feathers, just what was up with her? But you really can’t get mad at your dear drake.

“How are you feeling? Is your wound alright?” You ask and move to her side to see the handmade patch still there. Luckily, it is and has seemed to work particularly well as you could see the fronds had soaked up most of the blood from her wound and kept her from losing too much blood. “You feel much better don’t you.” You coo at the drake and she purrs louder, almost like a way of saying yes.

“Alright, are you ready to start the lesson?” Faraam asks and catches your attention.

You nod, “Yeah, what's the first thing I’m going to learn?”

“How to mount.” He says as he makes a gesture with his hand and Storm King lowers his neck down to let him get on before lifting his neck back up. “Just repeat what I did, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Alright.” You look back to (Dragons Name) who stares inquisitively at you and you put your hand up and attempt to mimic what Faraam did. However, she just tilts her head and chitters. “Uhh, I don’t think it’s working.”

“Keep trying, you’ll get it.” Faraam watches from atop Storm King. Wow, quite the teacher he is.

You try again but yet again she doesn’t understand. Hmm, maybe if that didn’t work, something else will. Thinking for a moment, an idea suddenly pops in your head. Drake feathers are certainly strong, maybe you could grab onto them and haul yourself up. Or maybe, you can just ask.

“Hey girl,” you coo gently and you note how she responds, maybe she much prefers for you to talk to her. “Could you put your neck down please? I need to get on.” You say and almost immediately she slowly lowers her head and neck low enough for you to get on. “Well, that was easier than expected.” You say and hop on onto her neck, feeling her soft feathers graze against her skin. You look at Faraam, who seems surprised, “Alright, what next?”

Faraam stares for a few more moments before clearing his throat, “Your next lesson is how to hold on, this is very important, I don’t want you to fall off your drake.” He explains as you see him take a handful of his drakes feathers. “Either you can grip onto the neck feathers or their horns, just as long as you hold on as tight as you can. The wind really pushes you back and can be much harsher than you realise. I should know, I nearly learned it the hard way.” He adds the last part under his breath.

You slip your fingers through (Dragons name) neck feathers, feeling around for a good spot to hold on. You find it and grip down as hard as you can, your knuckles turning a bit white and Faraam notices.

“Ok, not that hard.” He laughs and you correct yourself as he watches. “There, that's good. Alright, now for controlling your drake.” He demonstrates by picking up his swordspear from his back and pointing it to the side, Storm King following the swordspear and looking to the direction he pointed.

Well, shit, you didn’t have anything like that. But that won’t stop you, you just need to figure out a way around it. Pulling her feathers to the sides does not yield any results and telling her to look or fly left or right during flying would be near impossible with all the wind drowning out the noise. What if riding a drake is almost like a horse? You kick your leg gently on her left side, and to your surprise she looks to the left, nearly bumping heads with Storm King. While not entirely like a horse, it’s good enough.

“Not how I would do it, but if it works then it works I suppose.” He shrugs it off before continuing onto the next lesson. “This one is the most important.” He makes sure you're fully listening to him, “it's how to take off.”

Oh gods, are you really taking to the air this early in the lesson? “Uh, Faraam, are you sure I’ve learned enough to take off?” You aren’t sure about this.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. If anything, she’ll fly naturally by herself if you mess anything up.” You aren’t really satisfied with that, you want him to be one hundred percent sure that you will be able to take off and not fail miserably.

“Just follow what I do.” Faraam says before he points with his swordspear again and Storm King knows what to do as it gets a running start and jumps before it reaches the edge of the cliff, taking off into the air before turning to face you and hovering in the air. “It’s that easy.”

“Faraam, you're forgetting that I don’t have anything to point with.” You say, still not entirely convinced to try taking off.

“Come on, you’re overthinking it.” He waves you over as he waits for you to try.

“Fine.” You let out a shaky breath as you try to figure out how to make (Dragons Name) go forward. Kicking to her sides only makes her look either to the right or left, so what can you do? Maybe both at the same time, again, like a horse? Worth a shot. You kick both your legs down and you nearly fall back as (Dragons Name) starts to run forward.

“That's it!” Faraam cheers as he watches you and (Dragons Name) get closer to the edge.

You get a grip onto her feathers as you bite your lip nervously, seeing the edge get closer and closer. Is she going to copy what Storm King did? You feel her suddenly jump and you suck in a breath of surprise and feel a bit of a relief. However the relief is short lived as she is about to barrel into Faraam and Storm King.

“Watch out!” You yell out and Faraam and Storm King just barely move out of the way in time as (Dragons Name) starts to fly around, not idling. Your heart races as you start to panic and kick her side to make her turn left, which she does but she nearly hits a cliff face before you kick her right side. The commands seem to be confusing her as she starts to nearly fly in a circle.

“Make her fly in place!” Faraam yells, but he didn’t teach you how to do that. He moves himself and Storm King out of the way again as you and (Dragons Name) nearly barrel into them again.

It feels like trying to command a tornado as you struggle to get her to idle and she flies around the rocky outcropping in a large circle, occasionally dipping and nearly hitting a tree or the cliff face as you accidentally make her fly down or up. Just as you're about to possibly hit Faraam and Storm King again, you pull back on her feathers and grit your teeth as you feel her spread out her wings and stop suddenly.

She idles in place and you push your hair out the way, which had gotten in your face when she stopped suddenly and you lurched forward. “There you go, see I told you that you could do it.” Faraam says.

“Faraam, I nearly crashed into you.” You grumble a bit.

“But you didn’t.” He smiles before he notices you glaring at him. “Oh come on, you aren’t hurt and you're flying on your own now. Aren’t I such a good teacher?” He prides himself.

You continue glaring at him, still peeved as you cross your arms over your chest and raise your brow.

“Alright, alright.” Faraam quickly admits defeat, “I’m sorry, I should’ve taught you better.” You’re satisfied with that answer and uncross your arms, grabbing back onto your drakes feathers.

“So, what's the next lesson?” You ask, feeling more excited to be actually flying.

“Just follow me for a bit, I want to get you used to the feeling of flying.” He says before pointing his swordspear again and Storm King begins to fly off in a slow pace.

You kick the sides of (Dragons Name) and she starts to fly in the same pace as Storm King and Faraam are going. You quickly catch up to them and fly next to them, looking down as the forest passes by you and you try not to feel intimidated by the height. You turn to talk to Faraam, “I think I’m getting the hang of this.” You feel proud of yourself.

“You are. Faster than I did.” He says as you both continue flying.

“Hmm? How was your first time flying?” You ask.

He seems a bit embarrassed to admit, “It wasn’t as smooth as yours. I crashed into the cliff face.” He doesn’t make eye contact with you.

You can’t help but snicker a bit and when he looks at you with a small glare, you put your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing any further. “Sorry.” You slip out, “a-anyway, anything else you want to teach me?” you change the subject.

Faraam looks around as he stays quiet for a moment, “well, that was sort of the entire lesson. Other than landing, which we’ll do later.” He admits, not really having planned it out.

“Oh.” is all you say as you look around again, feeling a bit bored with how slow (Dragons Name) is going. Last time when you flew with Faraam, you found it more enjoyable when you were going blazing speeds. But would attempting to do that be too much for a beginner like you? Yet again, you’d have Faraam next to you to help if anything goes wrong.

You kick both of your legs down again, this time kicking two times in quick succession. (Dragons Name) responds immediately as she speeds up and flies past Faraam and Storm King, who in response catch up to you. A bit of wind blows past you at this speed, but yet again it feels like it's too slow.

Commanding her to speed up again, and the wind begins to pick up with the speed you're going. But yet again, Faraam and Storm King catch up to you flying beside you. You can practically feel the spark of competition between you two as you catch his eye and he commands Storm King to fly faster.

Oh no they dont. Kicking (Dragons Name) sides again, you match their speed as the wind now whips about and drowns out any sound other than its roaring. Faraam really wasn’t lying when he told you to have a good grip. The wind resistance was pulling at you, and it was hard to keep holding into (Dragons Name)’s neck feathers but you felt your grip was good enough, well, you hoped. Either you’ll learn the hard way or not.

You follow after Faraam as he just hardly stays ahead of you. The forest beneath you had turned into a green blur at this point and as you and Faraam flew by, a few trees bent with the force of the wind. Anytime you tried to overtake Faraam he’d purposely move to get in your way. Hmm, maybe a new way to overtake him would work.

Holding on tighter to (Dragons Name)’s neck feathers, you pull at them to make her go up and she does so. The force of gravity and the wind resistance nearly knocking you off as she begins to climb higher and higher into the sky, but you stay firmly seated. Below you, Faraam looks up in confusion as he watches you and (Dragons Name) get higher.

With the skies being clear, you hardly have any indication of how high you get until you look down. It’s almost dizzying with how high up you are, everything looks so tiny now. You can even see the blur of Faraam and Storm King as they idle in place and watch. An advantage point, and a distraction. You decide this is high enough as you pull on her feathers again, and she goes into a large flip.

The moment you go upside down from the backflip, it feels like you're weightless and the world slows down. The sun shines beautifully and reflects off of (Dragons Name)’s feathers, high-lighting her beauty. You could see shimmering rivers cutting across the vast expanse of forest below you. You could even see beyond the snowy tops of the large mountain range that circled the land, and there you could see the endless ocean, glimmering with its ethereal beauty.

Your body lifts off of (Dragons Name) but your hands stay firmly held on as the world begins to speed up as she goes into a nosedive. Gravity pushes you down back onto her as the wind roars in your ears, your eyes squint and leak tears from the wind drying them out. It’s a bit hard to breathe with how fast the air rushes past you, but you can hold your breath. (Dragons Name)’s wings close in her body, allowing her to slice through the air even faster.

The ground gets closer and closer as you continue the nosedive and just as it appears you’ll hit the ground, you pull up and (Dragons Name)’s wings spread out and harshly flap, giving her the tiniest boost as the momentum from the fall allows you and her to fly by Faraam and Storm King like a bolt of lightning. You're rather low to the ground as you fly by, causing a few trees to snap with the force of the wind.

Bolting over a large river, the water rises and splits, splashing the underbelly of (Dragon Name) but it dries near instantly as you command her to go a bit higher. By now, the momentum was starting to wear off as you began to slow down. You practically left Faraam and Storm King in the dust as you see them starting to catch up. You purposely stop and idle in the air for them to finally catch up.

“Did you see that?” You smile and nearly yell, “I can’t believe I did that!” Your heart races with excitement and adrenaline, and you clearly want more. You don’t want this ride to stop anytime soon, it feels all too free. It felt as if every worry, pain and fear was left on the ground while you soared over it with no care.

“I can’t believe you did it either,” Faraam laughs. “That was incredible!” He praises you, “It took me a while to build the confidence to do that, and you did it on your first ride? I’m impressed.” He admits as he smiles at you and you feel a bit flustered.

“Come on, I want to see the ocean!” You say and start to fly off before Faraam can even answer. He has to admit it, he didn’t quite expect you to be the adventurous type, but it’s all the better for him as he follows after you.

Cold winds blow through the air as you get closer to the snowy mountain tops with Faraam flying right next to you. You could almost feel some jealousy as you see he's mostly unbothered, probably because of that scarf and his other clothes. Or maybe he’s just used to the freezing cold of flying, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to it too you suppose.

You and Faraam reach the tops of the mountain range and begin to fly through them and he weaves between the sharp tops, showing off as he stands up. You feel a small twinge of fear for him, but he seems to have his balance and you gasp in shock as Storm King does a roll and Faraam simply steps a few steps to the side to keep on Storm King.

Faraam has a smug look on his face as he sees your reaction, and feels a bit of pride for himself. He keeps standing upon Storm King as you both fly your way through the expansive mountain top, cold air nipping at him but not exactly affecting him all that much. However for you, your teeth were chattering and goosebumps rose upon your skin, but with all the fun you're having, it’s a good pay off.

The ends of the mountain tops begin to make themselves known as you see the shimmer of the ocean water. Commanding (Dragons Name) to speed up a bit, you overtake Faraam only by a few feet. You reach the end of the mountains before he does and now you can fully see the endless sea out in front of you as it vanishes into the horizon. You could see rocky spires jutting out of the sea, twisting and turning with unique shapes. It’s like you could fly through them, hey.. That sounds like a good idea.

You pull (Dragons Name) into a nose dive again and this time, you can see Faraam follow suit as he dives with you. You're both practically perfectly synchronised as you dive, circling around each other. The mountains blur as you both dive and get closer and closer to the glimmering ocean water, just as you're both about to hit the water you turn up at the exact same time.

Below both you and Faraam, the salt water rises up and coats (Dragons Name) and Storm King's feathers. A few droplets get onto you, but they dry nearly instantly with the wind and heat of the sun. It was much warmer down here than it was way up in the sky. You have little trouble with controlling (Dragons Name) as you aim to go to the large rock spires and Faraam shares the same idea.

Weaving around and through the rocks, you make (Dragons Name) turn side to side with quick succession, even folding in her wings and diving through a hole in one of the spires. You could see Faraam doing the same as he makes sharp turns around the maze of spires, occasionally pushing off of the rock and sending debris falling into the ocean.

The maze of spires feels like it ends all too soon as you fly through the final obstacle with Faraam hot on your tail. You shoot out of the spires and into the open air of the vast sea, smelling the salt from the water. The shine from the water nearly blinds you but you shield your eyes as you slow down and make a wide turn, Faraam at your side.

Spotting a desolate beach, surrounded by rocks, you point to it. “Lets land there!” You have to slightly yell for Faraam to hear out over the sound of waves and wind. Faraam nods as he goes to land first, Storm King outstretching his talons before landing roughly, sending sand flying everywhere. Now it’s your turn to land. Faraam can clearly see your nervous-ness to do so.

“Pull back and slow down, she’ll do it on her own!” Faraam yells out to you.

Taking his advice, you pull back on her feathers and her wings spread out, her lower body reaching out as her talons out reach and the ground gets closer. She touches down and you grit your teeth as you land a bit harshly, her talons dragging along the ground for a few moments as you lurch forward and nearly fall off. Luckily you don’t as she comes to a full stop.

“There, you’re a natural!” He laughs and claps a few times as he slides off of Storm King and steps onto the sand to approach you and holds out his hand to help you down, but you refuse to take it.

“No thanks, I can do it myself.” You say and (Dragons Name) begins to lower her head until it's far enough down for you to step off of her. After you do so, she brings her head back up and immediately runs off to bother Storm King.

“Gee, I think I’ll need a saddle.” You say as you dust off some brown feathers sticking to you, most likely ripped off from you gripping so hard on them.

“I’d say,” Faraam stifles a laugh. “I’ll get you one soon. I’ll just need to find someone who’ll make a drake saddle without questioning me.” He thinks for a moment before changing the subject, “there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Yes, what is it?” You look to him and then to the glimmering ocean, trying to ignore (Dragons Name) playing rough with Storm King in the corner of your eye. Poor Storm King looks like he’s getting beat up.

“Tomorrow night there will be a ball in the palace.” He says. You’ve heard of the ball a few times, but you’ve mostly forgotten about it up until now. “I’ve been told that I must go, even if I don’t want to.” He grumbles a bit. “So I want to ask, would you come to the ball with me?”

You’re a bit surprised, but you smile. “I’d love to.” As you agree, Faraam pulls you closer to him with his arm hung over your shoulder. “But, if we went together we’d be found out.” You voice your concerns.

“That’s why we’re leaving the very same night. They can’t reprimand us if we leave and don’t come back.” He explains. Your heart jumps a bit, you didn’t expect to be leaving this early. But all the experiences you’ve had with Faraam, you're sure this is the right choice.

“Where exactly will we be going?” You’ve been wondering that for a while now. Where in the world could you possibly go that you won’t be found or bothered. Somewhere across the sea?

“Archdragon Peak, it’s an old place of dragon worship embedded into the mountain side. We could go there if you’d like.” He offers, but you hold out for now.

“I think I want to stay here for a while longer.” The sound of the gentle waves are quite soothing, it almost feels like you could fall asleep standing. A few seagulls caw and fly around and wind occasionally blows through.

You and Faraam sit down on the sand, simply watching as time passes.

————————-

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you know that whatever you fell asleep on was very warm and comfortable, also very big. Rubbing the blurriness out of your eyes, you lift yourself and turn around to see what you fell asleep.

It was (Dragons Name) who sleeps comfortably on the sand, with Storm King right behind her. Faraam also naps, resting his head and body against (Dragons Name)’s feathery neck. Looks like just about everyone took a nap.

The sun had already begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky oranges, purples and pinks with the tiniest hints of stars beginning to sparkle in the sky.

You stand up and crack your back, stretching out and yawning. For once, you weren’t worried about spending the entire day with Faraam. Gertie couldn’t get mad at you for it, because you already did all of your chores and you're rarely ever needed for anything else in the palace.

Putting your hand on Faraams shoulders you shake him, “Faraam.” you try to wake up but he groans and stays asleep. “Wake up, Faraam.” You shake him a little more but he only scrunches his nose and huffs, turning away to continue napping. You shake him more harshly, but again nothing.

Sighing, you look at (Dragons Name) and walk up to her head, petting her snout. “Wake up, girl.” it only takes her a second for her tiny eyes to open and look at you, purring immediately. “Want to help me wake Faraam?” You ask and she chitters, which you take as a yes.

“Alright, get up and let me on.” She does as you say and stands up, causing Faraam to fall onto the sand below but still sleeping. Somehow, Storm King didn’t wake up either. Like rider like drake you supposed. She lowers her neck enough for you to hop on, and you gently kick her side to get her to turn.

“Pick him up.” You whisper, stifling a laugh as she bends down and grabs onto Faraams scarf like a cat would pick up her kitten. She lifts him up as she brings her head back up and shakes him around, which is what finally wakes him up.

“Wha-” He looks around, wide eyed as he realises he’s being carried by (Dragons Name).

“Finally, you sleep like a log.” You say, looking at him dangling from (Dragons Names) jaws. “Remember, you told me about Arch, arch..” you rack your brain to find the name.

“Archdragon Peak.” Faraam speaks up.

“Yeah, there. Maybe we could go there now?” You ask.

“Alright, we’ll go. If you’ll let me down, that is.” He says, crossing his arms as he dangles.

“Let go of him.” You command (Dragons Name) and she unceremoniously drops Faraam, who lands harshly on his feet, kicking up a cloud of sand. But he doesn’t seem at all bothered as he goes to wake Storm King.

Faraam walks up to Storm King's head and gently taps his snout, and the drake wakes up just moments after and yawns. Storm King gets up and stretches out his wings before shaking his feathers and letting Faraam get onto his neck.

“It could be cold on the way, especially with this time of day.” Faraam says, walking Storm King next to you and (Dragons Name). “Here, take my scarf. I’ll be fine without it.” He reaches up and undoes his large scarf, throwing it over to you and you catch the surprisingly heavy piece of cloth.

“Oh, thank you.” You graciously accept the scarf and start to wrap it around yourself, but the sheer size of it makes it look more like a big shirt with a long tail. “A little big for me, but it works.”

“It’ll keep you warm for now. I’ll get you more clothes that fit before we leave Anor Londo for good.” He says before he points with his swordspear and Storm King takes a running start before leaping into the air. “Come on, follow me.” He gestures.

You have some more confidence for taking off as you kick both sides of (Dragons Name)’s neck and she starts to run before taking a strong jump and taking off into the air, and this time, luckily, you don’t nearly crash into Faraam and Storm King.

Faraam does a wide turn as he begins to lead you to Archdragon Peak. You follow after him as you both fly over a bit of the ocean and through the rocky spires, this time, more carefully and slowly. The moon had already begun to rise and it was getting harder to see where you were going, so more caution was needed.

The sound of the dark sea and its waves below you, the wind whistling past and the occasional flap or either your drake or Faraams drake was the only thing you heard for a few minutes before Faraam and Storm King suddenly began to ascend.

You hold onto (Dragons Names) neck feathers a little harder as you follow them, and the cold wind doesn’t bother you as you get higher and higher. His scarf was really insulating, more than you thought. You follow Faraam up and up, until the tops of the mountains are visible and he finally levels and begins to fly forward.

As you follow in a leisurely pace, you look up into the sky. Most of the day's light had died and the stars had come out, and they are unbelievably beautiful. Thousands of them dotted the sky, creating beautiful patterns. You could even see what you could only describe as a long scar in the sky. It was shades of purples, pinks and blues and had millions of stars dotting it.

The light of the moon and stars gently illuminates the mountain tops and Faraam and Storm King in front of you. Storm King's feathers reflect the light beautifully and you could see Faraams hair blowing in the wind as you watch them. It was hard to believe, almost like all of this was only a dream. Soon, you’d be leaving Anor Londo forever to be with him. You’d abandon everything.

You had almost forgotten what you were before you met him, just a maid, but now you feel like so much more, because you are. A soft fog begins to fill the air as you continue following Faraam as he leads you to Archdragon peak, he’s a bit hard to see but you can see his silhouette against the cold fog. You really can’t keep your eyes off of him, knowing and accepting what you feel. True and bashful love.

You speed up a bit to match his speed and fly next to him, wanting to speak to him again. “Hey Faraam,” you catch his attention. “About the ball, I don’t really have anything to wear for it.” You admit, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I come and I’m not wearing anything special.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry about that.” He pauses for a moment, “I actually have something for you to wear.”

That surprises you, “Really?! When did you have time to get something for me?”

“Remember I’ve been planning this for a while, I actually got the dress just yesterday. You could try it on once we get back.” He says and you can’t help but feel excited.

You’ve never really had the luxury to have a dress or anything fancy for your whole life, so the idea of attending a ball with Faraam and getting to doll yourself up just feels like a dream. Oh, it’s just so exciting. How will you do your hair? What does the dress look like? Hundreds of worries and ideas run through your brain all at once.

“Look,” You hear Faraam and look at him pointing at something, “there's Archdragon Peak.” You look to where he’s pointing and see what looks like a massive building embedded in the snowy mountains. As you get closer, the details of the place of worship gets easier to make out. Many spiralling tops and spires, all sorts of crumbled statues and intricate designs. It looks a bit dilapidated but it’s not too bad.

However the most intriguing thing about it, were the shapes flying around it. It was a bit hard to see what they really were as you squint your eyes and come to a reeling recognition. Those shapes are wyverns! What looks to be a good handful of them flying around and some of them roosting on high spires of the peak.

You snap your head to look at Faraam, clearly unsure about the wyverns. Those could be dangerous, wild ones.

“Oh, the wyverns. Yeah, you don’t need to worry about them.” Faraam notices your concerned expression. “They know me and if you’re with me, they won’t bother you.” As he says that, you can see one of the smaller wyverns coming over to both you and Faraam. It approaches Faraam first and looks at him, then it comes over to fly next to you.

It’s about the size of (Dragons Name) wing, so you can tell its a rather young wyvern compared to the other large ones flying around Archdragon Peak. It sniffs at (Dragon Name) and chitters, as it looks at you and (Dragons Name) curiously but without aggression. It goes to sniff at (Dragons Name) face but it appears she doesn’t like that and snaps at it.

“Hey!” You reprimand (Dragons Name), who only huffs loudly and lightly shakes her head. The young wyvern seems to have had enough and flies off, most likely to join its other wyvern brethren in the Peak.

As Archdragon Peak gets closer, Faraam starts to descend and prepare for a landing. At first you don’t see where he plans to land but then it comes into view. It looks big enough for both drakes to land, so you start to slow down and prepare for landing as well. Faraam lands first and you follow a few seconds later, claws scraping against the ground for a moment.

(Dragons Name) looks around, just as intrigued as you are as she sniffs the air and looks at any wyvern flying around. You hop off of (Dragons Name) as Faraam hops off of Storm King and approaches you, holding out his hand so you can hold it. You graciously accept it and intertwine your hand with his.

“I’ll show you around, maybe you can meet some of the wyverns too.” He says as he starts to walk, consciously making sure not to go as fast as he usually does so he isn’t dragging or pulling you.

“How did you even find this place?” You ask as you walk over some rocks and to the perceived entrance of the Peak, although the occasional holes in the wall sometimes look like it was once the real entrance.

“Storm King brought me here when he first became my mount.” He explains, taking you up some stairs. “It was far more than a surprise to say the least. The wyverns didn’t like me at first, but they got used to me. They’ll get used to you as well.”

You shiver a bit, it was rather cold here with how open everything was. Adjusting the scarf, you continue walking with him as you enter the large building. You look around and see plenty of unlit candles, some more burned than others and you see many ripped up rugs spread around. But the centrepiece of the room was a large dragon statue in the middle, a true ancient dragon.

“You told me this was a place of worship, what exactly was worshipped here?” You ask, although the context clues were more than enough, you just wanted to confirm your suspicions.

“They worshipped ancient dragons.” He gestures around the room, some of the walls embedded with dragon statues. One of them even looks like it’s a cyclops. “But with no ancient dragons to worship, it kind of fell into ruin. But the dragon's descendants stayed here.” He refers to the wyverns.

He leads you out of the large room and up a few more flights of stairs. The stairs made you a bit nervous, with how much cracks there are but if it held up this long, you guess you shouldn’t think about it too much. He leads you up to an open section of the building, where you come face to face with much bigger wyverns.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take a step back and squeeze Faraams hand. “It’s alright, they won’t hurt you.” He looks at you and gently tugs on your hand as the wyverns heads turn and look at you and Faraam. “I want you to meet them, they won’t feel like much of a threat when you're familiar with them.”

You hesitantly follow Faraam as he gets closer and closer to the massive wyverns, which you could only speculate as being ancient-aged with their size, tangled horns and dusty scales. They crane their necks out to sniff at you and Faraam, chittering deeply to each other as they seemed to assess if you were friend or foe.

Your friend, they decide as they crane their necks back and lay them back down on the ground, closing their eyes and falling back asleep. You tremble a bit, clearly still a bit scared of them but Faraam smiles. “There! Now they know you, they aren’t going to bother you.” At least it was fast and simple.

Looking at them again, you notice they are sitting on something. It’s a massive nest, some of them full of massive wyvern eggs. With their behaviour, you were surprised they weren’t so broody and aggressive to protect their eggs. But yet again, you doubt nothing else comes here other than other wyverns so they have nothing to worry about.

“Th-Thats good.” You stutter and clear your throat, you suppose you need to get used to them since you’ll technically be living here starting tomorrow night. “Do you want to show me anything else?”

“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “Well I can, but most of it is just other places of worship- oh! I should show you our room.” He seems to be quite excited as he immediately begins leading you down the stairs again.

“Our room?” You ask.

“Yeah, well it was just my room at first.” He says, leading you through a few hallways with some holes in their walls or roof. “But since you're with me now, it’ll be our room.” He leads you through a large hallway and comes to a large door, pushing it open.

The door groans as it opens up and the massive room is revealed, it’s in a bit of a rough shape but it’s clearly better tended to than the rest of the Peak. “I’m still adjusting it, so it’s not at its best right now.” Hes a bit embarrassed. You look around and see the large bed in the centre, it looked to be about the size of Faraams bed in Anor Londo. There are dressers, chairs and a small table in the room as well. A large rug covers most of the floor. There are a few holes in the walls but they are clearly being tended too as you see some bricks and other materials next to them to patch the hole.

“You did all of this by yourself?” You look around the room more, you could get used to it.

“Yup,” now he seems proud of himself. “I stole some furniture from the palace to fly it here, but I doubt anyone noticed anyways. It looks much better here, doesn’t it?”

You have to give him some props, he is a pretty good interior designer with how he placed the furniture around. “It does, you did a great job.” You complement and he looks away, a hint of pink against his cheeks but you don’t pester him about it.

Sitting on the bed, you bounce a bit as the bed is incredibly soft and you fall back on it, arms spread out. “I could just fall asleep, I’m getting tired.” You say with closed eyes. It is getting rather late in the night after all, “this bed is so comfortable.” Your voice gets lower, with the slightest bit of a tired husk.

Faraam suddenly jumps onto the bed next to you and your eyes shoot open as you're nearly launched up. “Ah! Faraam! You nearly threw me, don’t do that.” You shoot up to look at him lying on his stomach, face down. You can clearly hear him snickering, even if it's muffled by the sheets.

You really can’t be mad with him, that was kind of funny. You yawn, feeling tired again as you climb over him and reach for a pillow before laying it down on him, using him as the pillow's support. Resting your head on the pillow, you close your tired eyes, feeling the pillow rise and fall with his breath and you can even hear the sound of his heartbeat, slowing down as he too falls asleep.

—---------------------------------------

The morning sun shines through a hole in the wall, beaming directly onto your face as you groan and try to bury your face in the pillow, only to find you can’t. Lifting your head, you see the reason why. It wasn’t the pillow that you were trying to bury your face in, but Faraams chest, who still snores away.

Sometime during the night, he had lifted you onto his chest and that’s where you wake up now. It was pleasantly warm now, his body heat and the sun's warmth felt so relaxing. You yawn and blink away any remaining bleariness as you sit up and slide off of Faraam. Damn, did you really fall asleep here? Ugh, now you’re going to have to deal with Gertie’s yelling when you get bac-

Actually.. Why would you need to deal with that hag? She won’t be able to reach you after tonight, and you won’t have to worry about time or other things. Maybe you don’t need to return to the servants chamber for long, just enough to pack your things and get up to leave. You crawl out of the bed and crack your back, finally feeling completely unstressed for the day. No chores, no one screaming in your ear or banging at the door.

The only sounds are Faraams snores, the occasional rumbles, chitters and wing flaps of the wyverns flying around, which were surprisingly calming to listen to. You only spent one night here so far, but it already feels leagues better than what could be granted to you at Anor Londo. Even if the palace is in better shape and larger, this is where you felt you forever wanted to be.

Nothing awaited you back at Anor Londo, but here, it felt like everything had waited for you here and was wrapping you in its embrace. You don’t really want to go back to Anor Londo, even if it’s for the day and some of the night, but you must. You turn to shake Faraam awake, this time, he wakes up in a few shakes.

“Good morning.” You greet him with a smile, glad he woke up so easily. “I think we should get back to Anor Londo, you know, to prepare for that ball.” You feel that rush of excitement again. You’ll finally get to attend a ball!

Faraam yawns as he stretches out, cracking a few joints. “Mmm, alright.” His voice is tired and deeper than usual as he wakes up slowly, sitting up and adjusting his hair which had become a bit tangled from sleeping. He runs his hands through to detangle it as he gets up, clearly still tired.

You adjust your hair as well, and pull at your maids dress, smoothing out any rumples it acquired while you slept. Walking over to the large door, you struggle to open it but it eventually gives away as it opens with a groan. Now, where would your drakes be?

You look around at the open skies as you walk out, Faraam tiredly following behind you. You don’t see them flying around anywhere, only some wyverns flying around or landing on roosts. You turn to Faraam, “Do you know where our drakes could be?”

“They are probably at.” He pauses to yawn again, “the nesting area.” You can only think that he means where the massive wyverns were nesting at. You continue through the confusing hallways, trying to remember where he took you yesterday. But with a stroke of luck, you see the ascending stairs to the nesting area and you rush up them. Faraam however, takes his time.

Emerging at the top, you look around, noting the massive wyverns still sitting on their nests. But the dark purple feathers of Storm King in the distance catch your eye, as you begin to rush over with Faraam in tow, who is finally getting over his sleepiness. You get closer and see the head of (Dragons Name) resting on Storm King's neck, and you realise the two are cuddling and (Dragons Name) isn’t trying to hurt or bully Storm King.

Slowing down, you approach the sleeping duo. “Isn’t that cute?” You say, hearing Faraam approach. Your heart swells as you watch the duo getting along. You supposed this was probably going to happen sooner or later, they are both storm drakes after all. Oh! Maybe they’ll lay eggs? That would be so cute! Baby storm drakes. You imagine the babies as fluff balls.

Faraam nods, “I’m surprised that (Dragons Name) hasn’t killed Storm King during the night.” He jests, before he does that familiar loud whistle and wakes the drakes up, who both yawn and chitter.

(Dragons Name) gets up first as she steps over to you, purring and pushing her snout against you for pets. You happily oblige and pet her snout before scratching her chin. “Good morning, girl.” You coo, “did you have a good sleep?” She chitters and you take it as a yes.

“We’re going back to Anor Londo for a bit, could you let me get on?” You ask and she lowers her neck so you can get on, which you do so. In the corner of your eye, you see Faraam mount Storm King.

Faraam turns his attention to you, “we are going to leave the drakes at the outcropping once we get there,” he starts to explain the plan. “Pack up all the things you want to bring and take them to your drake, they’ll hold them. Once the dance is over, we come back to the outcropping and leave for good. Got all of that?”

You breathe a sigh, knowing tonight will change everything. “Yeah, I got it.” You kick the side of (Dragons Name) and she turns around, ready to take off. She harshly flaps her wings, sending some dust flying away as she takes to the air and Faraam and Storm King follow after.

—————————-

The flight back to Anor Londo was peaceful and uneventful, the most notable thing that happened was just nearly falling asleep on (Dragons Name) back. The wind forced you to stay awake, so it was all good.

Landing on the outcropping, you slide off of (Dragons Name) with ease and turn to face her. “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” She chitters in understanding.

Faraam lands just moments after you and dismounts Storm King, walking beside you. “We need to go to my room, your dress is there.” He says and begins to walk off as you follow him.

The walk back feels so much faster than it was before and entering the palace feels all the more strange, knowing you won’t be back here after tonight. You roam the halls with Faraam, taking it in one last time as he leads you up the familiar stairs and to his room.

He opens the door and gestures for you to go in first, you mutter a thank you as you walk past and he enters, closing the door. He walks past you and begins rummaging in his closet, presumably looking for the dress he got you. He searches for a few moments before he pulls something out and excitedly shows it to you.

The dress looks practically fit for a goddess as he presents it to you, it’s clearly made of highly expensive and rare fabrics and looks to be a perfect fit. How did he figure out your exact measurements? “Do you like it?” He watches your reaction, “I thought this would look beautiful on you.” He almost seems a bit embarrassed.

You reach out and feel the fabric, soft and silky as it effortlessly glides against your skin. You’re near speechless and you take the dress and look it over again, “Oh, Faraam.” You sound breathless, and he expectedly awaits your further response. “It’s.. perfect.” You hug the dress to your chest, feeling the slightest sting of tears from your eyes.

He lets out a big sigh of relief as he pulls you into a tight hug, “Oh thank gods,” he lets out a faint laugh. “I was afraid you wouldn’t like it.” He admits, “I was debating on getting multiple dresses to see which ones you liked better.”

“I would’ve adored any you got me.” You mumble into his chest, being careful to not to ruffle the dress. “Hey, how about I try this one now?” You say and he unwraps you from his arms.

“I was going to wait to see it on you when the ball began, but I just can’t wait any longer.” He bashfully admits, “go ahead and put it on.” He gives you some privacy as he turns away and covers his eyes, excitedly awaiting.

You lay the dress on his bed while you undress from your normal maids attire, letting it drop to the floor before you pull down your stockings and unwrap Faraams scarf from your neck. You pick up the dress and begin to put it on, the silky fabric running so smoothly along your skin like the world's most comfortable sheets. It hugs your form beautifully, and isn’t at all uncomfortable. You peek at a mirror and overlook yourself.

You can hardly recognize yourself, it’s such a far cry from what you thought you would ever end up becoming. It’s hard to keep composed but you breathe a deep sigh before speaking, “Faraam, you can look now.”

Faraam uncovers his eyes and turns back around to face you, and he’s near speechless as he simply stares and you start to become flustered. “Faraam? Is everything alright?” You ask and he remains silent as he gets closer to you, before he finally speaks, in a low, sincere voice.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve had the blessings of seeing.” He pulls you into another tight hug, and you feel him kiss your forehead.

That’s when you can hardly control your tears anymore as your eyes sting, and eventually let them fall down your cheeks. You hiccup and mumble apologies, trying to compose yourself. “I’m-I’m sorry, I just-” You can’t find the words as you hiccup. “I ne-need to calm down.”

Faraam keeps a hold of you in the tight hug as you cry into his chest, feeling his own heart ache. The moment is intimate, only for you and him. He hears you begin to calm as your cries turn into whimpers, and eventually sniffles as you finally compose yourself. “I didn’t mean to cry. I was just.. Overwhelmed.” It’s the best word you can use to describe it. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He assures you, “and you don’t ever need to apologise for crying near me.” That statement almost makes you cry again but you keep your composure and clear your throat.

“I.. guess I should start packing? We only have this day until we leave for good.” You break away from the hug, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t have many things I want to bring, so I won’t take too long.”

“It’s still only the morning, you don’t need to pack up so early. But if you want to, I’m not going to stop you.” He says. “Actually, maybe I should start packing now.” He looks around his room, noting all that he wants to take.

“I think I’ll pack early, I don’t want to forget anything.” You pause, “See you tonight?”

“I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

You smile, you most certainly will be as well. Taking your maids attire, you have to quickly throw it on and take off the dress to hide it from the others. No one can find out, and you're going to make sure of it. You open his room’s door with little struggle, and look at him one last time before exiting and closing the door behind you.

As you walk down his stairs, your heart races as you think of everything. You’ll need to do your hair, and put some makeup on, pack everything you need, and attend the ball. But you think of more, of how you will leave the only life you’ve known behind, your only identity. But this new identity, although nameless as of now, feels as if it fits so much perfectly.

You walk through the hallways, noting every servant and maid running around, preparing for tonight's ball. This is the last time you’ll ever see their faces, last time you’ll ever be in their company, last time you’ll walk these halls as a faceless maid. You eventually make it to the servants quarters and open the door as it creaks.

The servants quarters are mostly empty, as everyone is out doing their chores or helping with preparation. It feels almost surreal, you’re never here when it’s like this. You continue walking to your room and open it, walking into the sad little room. Sitting down on your hard bed, you look around at anything you want to bring.

Of course, you wanted to bring some clothes, which you hardly ever used since you became a maid. You wanted to bring a few miscellaneous items as well, such as your brush, care products and other such items. By the time you’re done packing everything into a bag, it hardly looks like anything is in the bag and you realise how little belongings you truly have.

But it’s only what you want, and need, so you’re happy with it. Picking up the bag, you hold it and begin to exit your room, only to be stopped by that old hag, Gertie. “Where were you!?” She yells, nearly spitting on you. “You were gone all night and I’ve hardly seen you the entire morning!” She attempts to grab you but you step back and avoid her hand.

“Excuse me, Gertie, I must get by.” You don’t want to engage with her as you attempt to step around her.

“Gertie?! Just Gertie!? You will refer to me as ma’am and ma’am only!” She suddenly rears up her hand and brings it across your face all while she berates and yells at you. “You think you’re so much better than me because you were chosen as Master Faraams personal maid? Well, guess what! You aren’t and you will never be more than a lousy maid!” She notices the bag, “and where the hell are you going!?”

Horrid anger roars from your heart as your arms shake, and you try your damndest to contain it, “I am quitting.”

“What!? No, you are not!” As if she can control that. “Put all those back and get your ass back to work!”

You can’t contain yourself anymore as you clench your fist in a ball and bring it across Gerties cheek in a harsh punch, sending her falling back. She lets out a yell of pain and surprise as she struggles to get up and even comprehend you would retaliate. “Wh-What! How dare you, you bitch!”

You want to do more, but you need to be in the best condition for tonight, so you don’t bother to possibly beat her into a pulp with all your years of held-back anger. You can already see a bruise forming on her cheek from the blow, so leaving an ugly mark is good enough for you. This should be the time you get out of Gerties' sight, as you rush past her and out of the servants quarters.

Hopefully, she won’t be able to recognize you or be at the ball when the time comes, or else there might be a scene before you can have your dance with Faraam. You rush through the halls again, noting that less servants were around the halls. They were all probably in the ballroom preparing for tonight, which felt as if it was coming all too quickly. The sun had already begun to climb to its highest.

You need to get to (Dragons Name) to give her the bag and begin to prepare for the ball nice and early. You rush through more hallways as you breathe heavily from quickly on-setting exhaustion. But the adrenaline rush from punching Gertie kept you going, until you ran through the palace’s main doors and eventually to the forest.

The path to the outcropping had been ingrained in your mind already as you begin to traverse it, occasionally having to jump over a root or two. The small gorge that Faraam usually picked you up to jump across had made you come to a reeling stop, but you quickly overcame it with a running jump on the closest points.

Even then, you nearly fell in, but luckily only a few rocks had tumbled down and you were spared a long and hard fall. You decide to walk this time as you make your way through the forest again, enjoying its scenery and sounds. The birds chirp and sing, in the distance an elk calls.

Your trek through the trail had to have taken you about an hour or two, which is strange because it felt like it was always only thirty minutes whenever you were with Faraam. But yet again, you were always thrown over his shoulder and he walks rather fast, so maybe thats why.

As you reach the rocky outcropping, you see the drakes, sitting down and just looking around. That is, until (Dragons Name) sees you too and immediately stands up, knocking over Storm King by accident as she runs over to you, purring loudly. “Hey there, girl. I’m back, but only for a while.” You say before reaching into your bag and pulling out your dress, brush and makeup before presenting the bag to her. “I want you to keep this safe.”

(Dragons Name) gently takes the bag from your hands into her jaws as if she’s carrying a fragile egg. “Thank you, girl.” You pet her snout and she chitters in happiness. You keep petting her for a few more seconds before letting go. You sigh, “I know this was short but I need to go now.”

She whines as she presses her head against you, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back again soon. Just wait for tonight.” You reassure her and she seems to reluctantly accept it as she goes back to sit next to Storm King, who had got back up from being knocked over. You turned back around, and began to walk back to the palace.

—---------------------------------------------

The sun had begun to set, marking the soon to begin ball. You had returned to the palace a few hours ago, and found an unoccupied guest room. You did have to hide from Gertie after all, who most likely was fuming and searching around the palace for you. You sit on a chair, facing a vanity mirror as you begin to do your hair.

You focus all your attention on doing it, wanting to make it as beautiful as your dress is. You go through a few hair styles before finally settling on one you think truly matches it. And now, onto your makeup. Setting the makeup on the vanity, you begin and cycle through many different sets of makeup.

This one was harder to choose, it felt like everything had to be perfect to a T. Yet soon enough, after what felt like an eternity you find the perfect makeup combination. You stare into the mirror and the woman in the reflection stares back, she looks unrecognisable, like she’s not even you.

You turn your attention to taking off your maids attire for the last time, letting it fall off your skin and onto the floor, never planning to ever pick it up again. You slide your stockings off and discard them with the maids dress before kicking off your shoes, to replace them with a beautiful set of heeled shoes that match your dress. It’s going to be a little hard to run with heels but you suppose you’ll manage.

You pick the dress up and put it on, that satisfying feeling of the fabric against your skin makes you shiver with delight, sending goosebumps flaring up your body. You feel your body in the dress, every curve and bend as your hands travel down and up. You haven’t felt more beautiful in your life.

Looking out of the window, you see that the sun had finally taken its leave as its only trace is a sliver of its light, but the moon was quickly taking its position and lighting the sky with stars. Breathing in and breathing out, you pat your hand over your heart, feeling it beat with excitement and adrenaline.

This is it. You slowly walk out of the room, hearing your heels click against the ground with every step. As soon as you open the door, you can hear the distant sounds of music and celebration in the ballroom, and that jump starts your heart again. You walk down the stairs from the guest room, being careful not to trip.

You reach the end of the stairs and walk through the halls, which are now sparsely littered with high nobles, adorned with their best attire, talking and laughing with each other or walking around. You hardly feel out of place as you walk by and they don’t give you a second glance, you blend in so well.

The doors of the ballroom are wide open as you approach them to enter, a sea of nobles causing you to slow down a bit but you eventually make it into the huge ballroom and take in the sights and sounds. Beautiful instruments play exciting tunes, as the musicians expertly manipulate them. Nobles talk and mingle around.

Walking further in, you can see tables lined with goods and sweets, the occasional noble picking at them. Turning your attention to the centre of the room, your heart jumps as you can see the royal family, minus Faraam, sitting on prestigious thrones. Lord Gwyn sits in the middle, and flanked to his sides are beautiful Princess Gwynevere, and strange Master Gwyndolin. He overlooks the event and crowd.

You make a conscious decision to remain as inconspicuous as possible as you keep your gaze down-turned, you just need to keep hidden until Faraam comes. You wander around, occasionally having to move out of the way of dancing nobles. But you find your own corner to stay by.

As you watch the ball go on, you feel a bit of a lump in your throat. Where is Faraam? He should surely be here by now, what's holding him? You look through the crowd, trying to find that familiar set of white hair only to be met with nothing. You get progressively more worried as the night goes on, and just as you're about to leave your spot to go look for him, a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” Faraam’s voice sounds out behind you and you whip around, looking over him. He’s clearly well groomed and dressed up for the event, how he could be even more handsome than he was before was a mystery to you. His eyes widen as he finally gets a good look at you and he smiles, “would the lady like a dance?” he holds out his hand to you.

The music begins to slow and become a slow tune as nobles begin to dance and waltz. You graciously accept his hand, “why of course.” You laugh as he begins to lead you to the middle of the floor. His hand comes to rest your waist as he stares into your eyes and begins to waltz, being careful not to step on your feet accidentally.

“I never took you for a person who knew how to dance.” You say, following his waltz as you both follow the flow and rhythm of the music and other dancers.

“Ah, well I was made to learn how to dance for a while now. I never thought it would be useful, that is, until now.” He continues to dance with you, twirling you around as he keeps his hand on your waist. It feels like everything else melts away and only you and Faraam exist in this ballroom.

He slowly brings you to the very centre of the dancers, unknowingly becoming one of the main points of focus to the other nobles as they watch with awe. He sways and turns with you, and then suddenly brings you into a dip as you gasp in shock but go along with it. He leans you further down, before he leans down himself and stares into your eyes once again before connecting his lips with yours.

His lips feel so welcome and familiar as you kiss him, bringing your hand up to cup his face. The kiss lasts until you need air and you both break away. He brings you back up as you both look out to the crowd, many nobles gasping in shock or whispering to each other. Unfortunately, the silent gathering and commotion seems to have caught Lord Gwyn's attention.

Lord Gwyn’s voice suddenly echoes around in the ballroom as he yells, “Faraam!” He shouts out his son's name. “What is the meaning of this! You consort with a mortal!?” He seems outraged as he stands up and the music abruptly stops.

Faraams face hardens as he looks up to his father, “Yes, I do.” His blatant admittance sends a ripple of gasps through the crowd.

“This is outrageous, cease this at once!” Lord Gwyn yells again, taking a step down. You can see silver knights beginning to gather and move through the crowd.

It seems Faraam decides this is the best time to finally reveal his plan. “No.” He rejects any commands from his father. “This ‘mortal’ is my partner, and I will not give her up.” His grip on you tightens, “and I side, with the dragons.” He announces, which sends another wave of gasps and even a few screams through the crowd.

It looks as if Lord Gwyn will burst a blood vessel, “You horrid, traitorous child! Cease them!” He commands and the silver knights start to harshly push through the crowd, intending to get to you and Faraam.

“Time to go.” Faraam says to you as he picks you up and holds you in a bridal position as he shoves through the crowd, hitting one silver knight to the ground as he runs out of the ballroom. Shouts and screams could be heard from behind you as chaos erupts with the revelation.

The sounds of armour clinking pursuing you and Faraam reach your ears as you look over Faraams shoulder, seeing what looks like tens of silver knights chasing after. But Faraam, with his size and godly speed easily out runs them. He bursts out of the palace from its front doors, looking around before darting into the familiar trail into the woods in a full sprint.

You can clearly see the silver knights are still pursuing and you can see from the windows how the palace descends into further chaos as more and more knights are sent out, nobles freak out and run out of the palace. You feel Faraam jump over that gorge again and land with a ‘humpf.’

He continues running and running, all while you watch his back, watching for any archers. The gorge had slowed down the silver knights, but only for a minute as you can see them still pursuing even now. Faraam suddenly moves his hand to make that whistle noise, and you just realise you’ve made it to the rocky outcropping.

His whistle catches the attention of Storm King and (Dragons Name). He quickly lets you down so you can run over to (Dragons Name). She immediately lowers her neck and you hop on, holding firmly onto her neck feathers as the sounds of clinking armour get closer and closer. Faraam and Storm King had already broken off into a sprint and hopped into the air, flying off a bit before turning and waiting for you.

You kick the sides of (Dragons Name)’s neck and she begins to run and jumps just before the cliff and just before the silver knights could reach you, one of them had swung at her and barely missed the tip of her tail. You look at Faraam and Storm Drake, waiting for you as you attempt to fly up to them.

A loud whistling noise suddenly makes itself known as you turn to see what’s making it, only to see a large bolt heading straight for you and (Dragons Name). You don’t have any time to react as the bolt pierces through (Dragons Name)’s wing and she lets out a roar of pain, before beginning to free fall.

“(Name)!!” You hear Faraam yell as he sees you beginning to fall and he dives down.

You scream as you fall, (Dragons Name) flapping her wings rapidly as she spins in circles and struggles wildly. Just as it looks as if you’re going to slam onto the ground, she suddenly spreads out her wings and corrects her position as she shoots into a wobbly glide. Only to start leaning to the side, and to the palace of Anor Londo, and you hardly have any control of her.

Faraam and Storm King desperately try to catch up to you and (Dragons Name) as fear clenches his heart. You scrunch your eyes shut as (Dragons Name) harshly slams into the side of the palace, shattering windows and caving in some wall before she flaps her wings again and flies forward. She slams through pillars and supports, knocking down numerous parts of the palace.

You try desperately to control her as the chaos unfolds, but it’s near impossible with her horribly damaged wing and she’s quickly losing altitude. You hardly manage to get her to turn away from the palace, and to the open air. She desperately flaps her wings as she tries to climb the air but fails.

Your heart races as you try to find any way to help her, but it seems hopeless. That is, until you see Faraam and Storm King racing to you. Storm King out stretches his claws and you duck down before Storm King grabs onto (Dragons Name)’s body and begins to lift her. He’s slowed down by her weight but he’s strong enough to fly with her in his talons.

Faraam quickly looks over from the side of Storm King and shouts down to you, “are you alright?!”

You struggle to speak, rattled. “I-I’m alright, but (Dragons Name) isn’t. We need to get to the Peak.” You’re more worried about (Dragons Name) then you are your own safety.

Faraam nods and commands Storm King to fly faster, to the point the forest is blurring beneath you. You look back one last time at the palace, seeing the mass gathering of silver knights, and even Lord Gwyn stares at you and Faraam as you both fly away. A glimmer of gold catches your eye in the crowd, it’s Ornstein.

You don’t know what it was about or where it stemmed, but you have a feeling that this won’t be the last time you see that golden knight as he stares through his golden mask as you and Faraam get smaller and smaller with distance.

—----------------------------------------------

“You two stay with the wyverns alright?”

“But do we have to?”

“Yes you have too, you can play with the fledglings while you're at it.” You smile and try to make the deal sweeter, you know they both want to come with you and Faraam but it’s a date night tonight.

“Aww, but we want to come with you and dad on a ride!” Your first son complains.

“Yeah!” Your second, younger son chimes in.

It had been many years since that fateful night when you left Anor Londo, about fourteen years to be exact but it felt like the blink of an eye. In that time, you and Faraam had two lovely sons. At first, you were reluctant to rear children in the crumbling Peak but Faraam assured you that they would be perfectly safe. And he was right, especially with the drakes and massive wyverns watching over them.

And in that time, Storm King and (Dragons Name) had become bonded and produced a clutch of eggs, which had hatched at the exact day your first son was born, it was almost like fate had picked out his future drake.The fledglings and your sons had gotten along surprisingly well, acting as if they were siblings.

“Sorry, no can do. Maybe next time.” You ruffle your older son's hair. “It’s just me and your father for tonight.”

“It sure is” You hear Faraam behind you before he kisses your cheek, clearly excited about the date night.

“Eww,” your son say in unison.

“Oh hush, you’ll understand when you get older and fall in love.” you give Faraam a kiss on the cheek back. “Now, go on.” You shoo them away and they reluctantly go to the drake nest, where the fledglings happily awaited. You turn to Faraam and smile, “ready for our date?”

“Oh yes I am.” He whistles and calls of Storm King, with (Dragons Name) in tow, landing in front of you. Luckily, (Dragons Name) wasn’t permanently injured by the bolt she sustained during that night but did fly a little weird now, but you suppose it was a miracle she could fly at all so you weren’t complaining.

(Dragons Name) lowers her neck so you can get on, and you hop onto her saddle. Faraam had managed to create a saddle for (Dragons Name) in the years you were in the Peak, it wasn’t the best of course, but it worked perfectly and prevented you from constantly needing to pull and tug on (Dragons Name)’s feathers.

Faraam takes off first and you immediately follow after him with a smile. You fly next to him, before giving him that familiar stare of a challenge. Date nights with Faraam were different than most, because they usually included a flight on your drakes and a race or a chase.

Faraam returns the stare as he shoots off into the clouds, and you follow him, but before you burst through the clouds, you decide to stay just under them. Faraam emerges from the top of the clouds, and looks around, confused.

You suddenly burst through the clouds right behind him and scare him as you laugh before diving and he begins to chase you. The wind blows past your ears as the ground gets closer before you turn up and speed around the mountains with Faraam right on your tail. You wear through the many tips and sharp tops of the mountains, attempting to evade him.

But he’s persistent and you look behind you, only to see nothing. Huh? Where could he have gone? As you look back, you let out a gasp of shock as Faraams face is inches away from yours and upside down. He flies directly above you, Storm King flying upside down.

You laugh as he smiles and you give him a peck on the lips before diving again to continue the chase as he goes right-side up and flies after you. You dive down to the ocean and veer through the rocky spires, like you’ve done all that time ago. You dive and weave through the holes in the rocks and even jump off of (Dragons Name) to free fall for a moment before she catches you.

Faraam follows closely behind, never being more than twenty feet behind. He catches up to you again before he gestures to the beach, and you make a wide turn to land on the beach. You land and Faraam follows close behind, kicking up sand as Storm King lands.

You slide off of (Dragons Name) and she immediately goes to preen Storm King as Faraam gets off of him and walks over to you.

“Looks like I won the chase.” He says pridefully.

“I let you win.” You light-heartedly retort before you sit down on the sand, and Faraam joins you. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Well, I would’ve won irregardless.” He laughs and you playfully swat him as you watch the sea. The waves gently reach onto the shore before backing out, and the setting sun paints the sky beautiful colours. You yawn and feel your eyelids grow heavy, and you hear Faraam say something before you succumb to your nap. “Love you.” He kisses your forehead.

You really couldn’t have asked for a better life.

Chapter Text

Content: Reader fucking dies, this fic is a bit of horror but it’s mostly cutesy stuff. I’m not spoiling it any further, just read it. No sex though, but I was really tempted to add a scene.

The streets of Yharnam are lonely, stained with the stench of blood, wet with recent rain, and ripe with beasts. You cut through them with ease, their blood staining your hunters garb as their guts spill onto the ground. A hunter's life really isn’t easy, but it's honest work and keeps the streets clean of these crazed beasts.

And a hunter’s life really doesn’t have time for other things, such as friends, unless they are hunters themselves. Even then, it’s a major chance they will die young and then no time for making more friends. Hunters hardly even have time for romance or families, which you wish wasn’t the case.

Sometimes you felt jealousy towards some beasts, even when you cut them down, even when they snarled and lunged like rabies-infected hounds. The jealousy stemmed from their lives before this, as you recognized some of them in the time you lived in Yharnam. They were people with families, friends and lovers. All things you couldn’t have. And that made you green with envy.

Well, you sort-of had one of those things a time ago. It has been about a year since you encountered that strange hunter who seemed oddly infatuated with you. The same hunter who you got rather ‘close’ with in an abandoned home. The memory is a pleasant one, and sends shivers up your back. But again, it has a sour after-taste.

After that encounter, he had left and vanished into the night. Which, you had to admit, hurt quite a bit. Even if he was a fellow hunter, always on the move, always with something important to do, he could’ve made an effort to take you wherever he went. But he just vanished, never to be seen again.

But that's not entirely the truth, nor is it a lie. As of late, you’ve been having very strange dreams. It’s hard to describe them, even thinking about them too hard makes you have a major headache. One time you tried to recall one by writing it down on a piece of paper as fast as you could, but you blinked, and suddenly nothing was on the paper and your nose was bleeding.

Your most recent dream, or nightmare? Was the only one you were able to recall. You were standing in a long, infinite field, covered to its brim with beautiful white flowers. The sky had no moon or sun, not even clouds. It was just a dull, light grey endless expanse of sky. Somehow there was light, which you didn’t understand where it was even coming from, but it was welcomed. There wasn’t even any wind there

You had walked around for some time, finding nothing of note for the longest time. Until something in the distance had caught your eyes, it looked like a humanoid figure. Of course, you had attempted to run over to the figure but it never seemed to get closer, as if you were running in place. The flowers were moving and being crushed under your feet, so that wasn’t the case. Was the figure itself moving away?

Stopping, your breath heaves up and down as you simply stare at the distant figure. Something was off about it, way off. You could see the occasional jitter and something poke out of it, like a spike.. Or a tentacle? That's when it began to walk toward you. At first, it was hard to tell if it was getting closer or moving farther away, but as it got larger, you could tell it was coming straight for you.

As it got closer and closer, it looked like the dream's reality was collapsing. The flowers began to rot and wither away, as the sky began to darken and the ground was dissipating. You wanted to run, but your feet were tangled in sudden roots. Such is the nature of dreams, chaotic and they don’t make sense.

You began to see its features more clearly now, it looked like the figure of a hunter.. No, not just any hunter, your Hunter. He looked..wrong, and his very presence made a terrible ringing in your ear and your brain feels like it’s being dipped in fog. There wasn’t anything inherently different, no extra limbs, no beastly form to be seen, but there was something odd.

That’s when you seen the small slither of his face just below his cap. It has always been hard to see it, as it is obscured by the darkness of Yharnams night and shadow of his cap, but now, it was just a black void. He reached you right then, and stared directly at you. It felt like your brain was melting as blood seeped from your nose and mouth.

His hands came to cup your face as he brought his own closer to yours, the inches it got closer, the worse you felt. Your eyes were trained on the pitch black void that was his face beneath his garb as something in that void moved. It was a batch of tentacles, coming out of the void of his face to feel at yours.

There was no malicious intentions behind his actions, but you just couldn’t think straight. Just as he was about to close the small gap between your faces, you had woken up with a horrible start. Heart pumping wildly, and it felt as if the blood flowing in your veins was on fire. Your head pounded with an ache and your nose was gushing blood.

It took you a bit to get over that dream, it haunted you for the entire day and still poked at your brain during this hunt. But that thing that remained constantly on your mind was, why him? And why did that dream feel so real, yet so disconnected and why did it follow you into the waking world with its effects? And why did he feel so real when his hands cupped your face?

You supposed that by now, in the waking world, he’s probably dead, perhaps caught up in a beast hunt and ended up as the countless other hunter bodies adding to the corpse litter on the streets of Yharnam. If he is alive, it would be near impossible to find him during the normal months of Yharnam as well. You never saw his real face, the most you saw were his eyes. You hold onto the faintest glimmer of hope that this hunt, he will show up again.

Slashing through beasts, you rush through the streets, aiming to rack up as many beast kills as you possibly can. You’ve heard of rumours around this area that a Cleric Beast has been spotted, and that sounds like wondrous prey to add to your list of successful hunts. Hmm, would it be morally questionable-able to take its antlers as a prize? Well, no one has to know. Besides, no one really visits your home that often.

The streets twist and bend, suddenly ending and suddenly beginning as you hear the distant screams of a Cleric Beast. You’ve faced beasts of similar stature and power before, but you knew never to be too cocky. Every beast is different after all.

You run out of the cramped streets and see where the screams of the Cleric Beast were coming from, the bridge. You take off immediately and weave around any smaller beasts attempting to swipe at you or lunge.

It doesn’t take long until you're rushing up a flight of stairs and running across the bridge to your huge adversary. It snaps its head towards you, growling with horrid, blood-stained teeth as it turns its entire body to face you.

The huge arm, covered in matted fur, slams down on the ground as it roars furiously at you before beginning to hobble its way over. It’s almost sad how slow these beasts can be, but makes it all the more easier to catch and hunt them.

You grip onto your weapon and unseathe it, its blood bitten blade shining in the moonlight. You aim for its largest arm first, your blade opening wounds and mending bone as it howls in rage and pain.

The Cleric Beast jumps up and attempts to crush you under its immense weight but you dash out of the way in time as it lands, cracking the ground with its size. You take the few moments it’s turned around to land a few hits.

But the beast suddenly reels around, swinging its large arm to grab you. Its claws scrape at your skin as you struggle in its hold and it roars in your face, its rotten breath making your nose scrunch and you gag.

It suddenly brings you up over its head before harshly throwing you and you sail through the air, slamming and rolling on the ground a few times before finally stopping. The pain is horrid as you hear your body crunch like paper from any slight movement.

Getting up, you wobble as your vision goes in and out. You landed pretty damn hard, and your head took a great hit. Your hands struggle to keep hold of your weapon as they shake and open by themselves.

The Cleric Beast begins to hobble its way over, breathing heavily as if it can sense your weakness and its craving for more blood inflates its aggression.

Spitting out a few droplets of blood, you try to run up to the Cleric Beast, but it’s more of a wobbly speed-walk. You dash through a few swipes as you bring down your weapon on its large arm, breaking its bone as blood spurts out.

You take the small window and viciously beat at the Cleric Beast, but it seems oddly stronger than its previous brethren you fought. Usually a Cleric Beast would keel over and die by now, howling in rage. But this one was stubborn.

It swings at you and hits, cutting open large wounds on the side of your stomach. You cough up more blood as your ribs rattle. You hardly have any time to react before suddenly being picked up again, held harshly in its clawed grasp.

You’re suddenly slammed onto the ground, the air being knocked out of you and you gasp harshly. Its clawed hand keeps you down on the cold ground before it lifts it and brings it down onto your head.

The last thing your eyes register is a horrible crunching sound before everything goes black.

——————-

Your heart beats wildly as you take a greedy breath of air in and you sit up, your face burns and your entire body feels weird. You cough as your lungs take in the air they so desperately craved and your mind races.

Where was that Cleric Beast? How are you alive?… where are you? It takes a handful of minutes to finally ask that question and look around at your surroundings.

…oh no..

It’s the field again, the very same one in your dream earlier that night. Everything is the same, endless expanse of a white-flowered, flat field. No wind, and perhaps no temperature either. There's no sounds other than your own heartbeat and irregular breathing.

The only thing that had seemed to change in the slightest of this… Dream? Was the large, red moon that hung in the sky. It was the only thing in the sky itself, everything else was just a grey slate. It felt.. horrible..

It’s hard to describe the exact feeling, but it feels as if the moon is an intruder, something that shouldn’t be there. And it feels as if it’s watching you. You cautiously take a step, staring into the moon for any reaction. It offers no reaction.

Why do you suddenly feel like prey? Watching its predator from a distance, waiting for it to suddenly start chasing. But the more steps you take, the tiniest more confidence you gain as the moon doesn’t come careening down or turns to look at you like an eyeball.

Walking around offers little to see, as expected. Just the endless field of flowers, and the watching blood moon. Suddenly, you feel it and hear it, that ringing in your ears, the fog clouding your mind. Your body begins to shake, and the flowers start to wilt.

You remember why you feel so much like prey now as you spot that distant figure. Panic grips your aching heart as you turn tail and immediately begin to run the opposite way, occasionally looking back to see that the figure was not getting any farther or any closer.

The moon looks as if its setting as it begins to fall beneath the lands and behind the figure, giving It an even more terrifying backdrop. You keep running and running until your tired legs force you to stop and you breathe harshly, drool falling from your mouth.

Looking back, your eyes widen as the figure begins to get closer. It doesn’t even look like it’s walking, more of floating across the flowery field. It’s dark body starts to take more form, back into your dearest Hunter as it gets closer.

Your brain gets more fuzzy as you yell in pain, keeling over. Whatever it was, suddenly seemed to stop and hesitate to the sound of your cry. Oh gods, it hurts, everything hurts and feels so wrong.

Blood seeps from your nose and trickles out of your mouth as the thing gets closer, until eventually it stands, or floats, over you. It feels as if your body and mind are collapsing because of this thing.

It, or more accurately, he, stares down at your pitiful form. He's gone beyond normal emotions, but he still feels sympathy and he clearly recognizes you. He brought you here for a reason, to finally reunite. Although, it looks like you don’t recognize him.

He reached down, intending to feel the familiar warmth of your skin, but the moment he touched you, you yell in pain. It feels like his touch is fire itself. His form is too much for your mind and body to comprehend, or dare to even touch.

Reeling back, he keeps his hands to himself before feeling his body shift into something more suitable, something you can gaze upon with no pain. The void that was his face begins to mend and twist, forming into his old, mortal skin. He was back to his ‘normal’ self.

Your brain still feels fuzzy, but it starts to dull and the blood that was gushing from your nose and mouth starts to ease up, slowing into a trickle. Was it gone? You look up to the being, and your eyes widen, to see your Hunter standing over you.

“Wha..” you can hardly find the words, wasn’t some imposter of him just standing there? Some sort of abyssal beast? “H-Hunter?” You stutter and he tilts his head, receptive to his given name.

“How are you-“ you can hardly find the words as you prop yourself up, concern etching your features. “Here? Where were you?” You want to fire off so many questions, but you stop and stare at the slither of his face beneath his hat. He still looks wrong, “what are you?”

At that question, he looks away to the moon and then back. He was never good with his words, so he never chose to use them, and in his ascension, he’ll never need them. You're smart and can understand it nearly right away.

“You’re not yourself anymore, are you?” It’s hard to rack your brain around it. But you know clear as day, the great ones of Yharnam work strangely and sometimes, a new one can appear.

He nods, his visage slipping slightly as he twitches lightly. This form feels so small, so constricting. But it’s what you can perceive, to a degree. He can still see the tiny trickles of blood coming from your nose.

“Is this where you’ve been this entire time?” You ask, standing up to face him. Yet again, he nods. So that’s why you never saw him around after that fateful hunt, he was no victim to the hunt, he’s ascended beyond it.

But a small spark of anger flares, “why didn’t you ever come sooner? I thought you were dead.” Your voice is a little more stern. “You can’t just up and leave after our time together.”

He looks at the ground, almost looking guilty. How can he communicate this? Ah, he knows. He reaches out his hand for you to take. You hesitate but he’s insistent and you grasp onto his hand, feeling that terrible burn.

The rushing memories of the strange dreams you had come flooding back like a tidal wave, all things once forgotten, now remembered. You let go of his hand, groaning and with a pounding headache.

“You.. you were sending those dreams.” You come to the realisation. Every dream you had somehow involved him, or that shadow-y form of him. But your mind was too weak to keep those memories in, so they forgot them once you awoke.

“You didn’t leave me, you were trying to contact me this whole time.” Your hands tremble. So many nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering about him, hoping you’ll see him again. Only to never realise you have been, for the past few months.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ you clutch your head, feeling that ache. “Shit, that hurts.” You hiss through your clenched teeth and he comes right up next to you, his gloved hands coming to your forehead. And suddenly, the ache is gone.

You breathe a sigh of relief as it fades, although something new is there. “Hunter, wh.. what did you do?” It feels like something is moving around in your head, something blinking and seeing.

He points to his eye and then to his head. You’ve heard of it before, eyes lining the brain. Did he just put eyes on your brain? Your eyebrows knit together, trying to know if he did.

As you ponder, he slowly reaches out to touch you again. Perhaps you can perceive him well enough for him to freely touch you. His finger grazes your skin and you instinctively flinch. “Hey that-!” You cut yourself off. “Didn’t hurt..”

You fully expected it to burn like it did before, to feel like your skin was melting, but it only felt like his smooth gloves that touched you so eagerly back then. You reach out to hesitantly touch him, poking his chest with your finger.

When nothing happens, you put your entire hand on his chest to test it further. Again, nothing out of the ordinary happens. You can touch him, he can touch you… he can touch you! You're suddenly tackled by him as you roll a few times, kicking up flowers.

“Oh! Careful, careful!” You say, not wanting your sensitive body to get hurt. But wait, where did your injuries go? You could have sworn your body was cracking like clay only minutes ago, but no there’s no pain to be found.

He knows this as his hands eagerly hold you, his face finding the crook of your neck. At last, he has what he's been yearning for and he’ll get to keep it all to himself forever more. You have nowhere to go anyways.

“I’m glad to see you too, Hunter.” You laugh as he practically cuddles up to you, one of his hands coming down to squeeze your thigh. He’s always had a weird liking towards them, but you don’t mind.

He keeps his grip tight, as if he was afraid of leaving you again, even if it means for a moment. Though he doesn’t have the need to breathe, he takes a large inhale, smelling your scent, before he lets out a relaxed exhale.

You both lay in the bed of the flowers for a while, just enjoying each other's company. You had thought the Hunter fell asleep on you with how quiet and still he is but the occasional jitter and adjustment proves you wrong.

It’s peaceful and a cry far from what you were just doing. Speaking of, how are you even here and where are you? You lift your head to speak to him. “Hey Hunter, where exactly are we?”

He tenses up, unsure of how to answer. He sits up and you follow, looking at him as your brain racks on where you and him could be.

It’s infinite, strange and very out-of-this-world. So you’re nowhere in the normal world, perhaps you are above, or maybe below.

The Hunter can hear your thoughts as he points up, as if to signal you are above.

“Oh, I see.” You look up again at the grey slate sky. Well, was it really a sky? If you were already above one? Maybe this is some sort of edge or barrier before the sky breaks.

“And how high are we?” You ask and he brings his hand flat out. “That’s the land, right?” You ask and he nods. He brings his finger to ‘stand’ on the flat of his hand and starts to go up and up. Until eventually, his hand is fully up, as high it can go.

His arm does a nauseating crack as it bends awkwardly and begins to extend beyond normal length, snapping every time it bends even the slightest. You grasp his shoulders, “alright I get it, put your arm back.”

His arm immediately collapses as it pulls back into itself, that disgusting crunching noise of his bones getting smaller and falling in on themselves. It makes a horrible shiver run up your back and you nearly gag, “don’t do that again, please.” You feel like throwing up.

The Hunter nods, feeling a little bad. But he perks up again as you ask another question.

“So if we are,” you look up to signify, “that high.” You think for a moment, feeling so confused. “How did we- I get here?” You correct yourself and the Hunter looks tense for a moment.

He brings his hand up and brings it across his neck, as if he's using his finger to slice his neck. You raise your brow, still confused. “I’m not getting what you mean?”

He leans over, bringing his finger to ‘slice’ across your neck. He brings his hands back, and makes a snapping motion, as if he’s breaking a twig between his hands. That’s when you understand it, you died.

Your heart begins to race as a cold sweat runs down your forehead and your hands become clammy. The Hunter can sense it as he immediately grabs you to pull you against him, his hand coming over to your chest and feeling your beating heart. He can quell it, but he’s not sure if he should. He doesn’t really know his own strength.

You breathe heavily, feeling strange. You’re dead, fully dead, your corpse most likely still in that bridge with the Cleric Beast and is likely being consumed as seconds go by. This feels so wrong, you can still perceive everything and feel the blood running in your veins and your heart beating in your chest. You could’ve thought that death would feel cold, painful or fully numb.

The Hunter holds you even tighter as he feels your panic. He feels so guilty, he brought you here after your death and it’s now the cause of your distress. Maybe he can do something to calm you? His hand held over your heart starts to feel oddly cold. He places his other hand on your forehead again, as it starts to feel cold as well.

You look up to him, your pupils shrunk with panic. His hand on your forehead lightly presses down as that blinking, moving sensation on your brain intensifies. His hand held on your heart gets ice cold before suddenly turning warm as your heart is forcefully brought to a normal pace.

The sky begins to turn strangely as the eyes on your brain settle. It’s not a grey slate anymore, it twists and turns with thousands of colours in millions upon millions of different patterns. It’s clear that this ‘sky’ is endless, and beyond words. You're so distracted by the twisting ‘sky’ that you don’t feel The Hunter starting to become cold again.

His hands aren’t gloved anymore, they almost look like tentacles mimicking a hand. They are slimy and cold, getting bigger and bigger as his entire body starts to transform. He thinks you have enough sight to see him properly. Although his great form isn’t fully grown, and not at its strongest, he just wants to be his new true-self with you.

You feel yourself being lifted as the cold, slimy body of the Hunter shocks you out of the trance you were in as you snap your head to look at your Hunter. You gasp, and shut your eyes, afraid of what would happen if you gazed upon him. But the feeling of his tentacled hand, grazing against your face, poking and prodding, makes you hesitantly open your eyes.

The sight that greets you is all the more strange. Your dearest Hunter is huge, about slightly bigger than a Cleric Beast. His face is made up of tentacles and is nearly unrecognisable, although his signature cap seems to be melded onto the top of his head, also made of the odd shiny coat his skin seems to be made of. His arms are long, and his hands are more of flexible tentacles. His body was skinny, with imprints of ribs on his chest and an impossibly hollow stomach. On his back were a tangle of out-reaching tentacles, like thousands of twisting branches sprouted from his back.

He holds you gently, cradled with one arm as he looks down at you. Looks, is a stretch as he doesn’t even have eyes, or a nose, or a mouth, or anything. You tremble at the sight, but yet again your heart is forced to stay at its normal pace. “H-Hunter..” You stutter, “is this what you’ve become?”

He nods his head, feeling a tangle in his chest, hoping you won’t be afraid of him. You stare with big eyes, taking it all in again. But this was your Hunter, tried and true, even if he looked a little different. Okay well, a lot different. He acted mostly the same from when you met him during that hunt. He was gentle and tender, being careful not to hurt you. He even gave you more insight to perceive and touch him without him causing you pain.

“Uh, this isn’t what I really expected.” You admit, moving a bit in his cradled hold. “You look so.. Strange.” You reach out your hand to feel at his ‘face’ and he brings it down to meet your hand. His facial tentacles wrap around your hand, entangling themselves in between your fingers and around your arm. It tickles.

You stifle a laugh as he seems so eager to stay close to you. “You look different, but you're the same old you.” The fear had seeped out of your mind and body. Your other hand comes over to attempt to touch his face, only to be greedily tangled in the tentacles as well. They don’t have suckers nor can you feel any beak in the mass somewhere, so they almost feel like slimy, massive worms.

“Eww.” You wrestle your hands out from the mass, seeing them covered in thick slime. “I get you’re excited to be with me again, but let's try not to get me dirty.” You say and he understands, although a bit saddened. You reach up again and he dips his head, allowing you to essentially pet him.

You can feel yourself shiver from the rumble coming from him, was he purring? Oh, he for sure was. You laugh and keep petting him, the tentacles from his head moving around excitedly and the tentacles on his back share the same motions. A pair even forming a heart. His arm that you were nestled in, brings itself closer to his chest as your body is pressed up against his bony chest.

You stop petting him as you put your hands onto your lap, looking back out at the sky. “If I’m dead, I have nowhere to go, right?” You ask, seeing him nod in the corner of your vision. “Well.. I suppose that's fine with me, I have all that I need here.” As you say that, he nuzzles his head up to you, wanting to be caressed again.

You oblige and do so, still keeping your eye on the twisting skies. If this will be your eternity, then so be it. “Well then, let’s just sit a while..”

Chapter Text

Content: Sesbian Lex. They both really hate each other at first. Reader is a bit selfish at first. Sex scene is a bit out of nowhere but I had to get this done guys. Asphyxiation, eating out, biting and marking, fingering

Your legs slam onto the rotten ground, crunching dead twigs and scarlet-infested foliage as your breath heaves in and out. You nearly trip over a large root as you jump over it, your legs aching by now. Looking behind you, you hiss in annoyance as the wretched invader is still hot on your tail.

“Leave me alone, you mad woman!” You yell over your shoulder. However the insult doesn’t seem to affect the butcher-knife wielding finger maiden. Was she even a finger maiden? Definitely not if she is actively chasing you around, trying to cleave you in half. What a horrid disguise for someone to assume.

Normally, you would charge towards the invader, your weapon held high and ready to send any rotten intruder back to their world. But this was different, you were at a horrible disadvantage. The terrible fauna of Caelid, the giant dogs, terrifying bird things and so many others had attacked you on your travels. It left you injured and without any flasks left by the time this horrid beast of a woman stepped into your world.

You hear the ‘shing!’ of the blade being brought down just behind you, missing you by a hair. You're starting to tire and she's catching up. Soon, you're going to have to turn and face her. Running over more rotten terrain, you pray that you don't catch any other creature's attention and so far you haven’t.

You look back again, seeing her right at your heels and unfortunately, not seeing the big uprooted rotten root sticking out of the ground in-front of you. Your foot catches underneath the root and you let out a yell of surprise, slamming face first into the ground. The butcher catching up to you in seconds, attempting to slam the blade onto your leg.

Bringing up your leg, the blade digs into the rotten root and gets stuck as she struggles to wiggle it out. You scramble to get up, stumbling over your own feet for a moment before standing up. There’s no use in running anymore, she’ll just keep chasing for who knows how long. Unsheathing your weapon you prepare for a fight as she pulls her cleaver out of the root.

She glares at you as you both begin to slowly circle each other, each waiting for one another to strike first. You keep your eyes locked onto her own, they were such a piercing yellow. She suddenly rushes at you, the blade lifted over her head but you dash to the side, slicing her shoulder.

She grunts in pain, retaliating only moments after by swinging her butcher's knife at you. The blade nicks your stomach and a burn of pain cuts through you. The tiniest trickle of blood seeps through your armour.

The evidence that you’re hurt is all that she needs as she rushes you again, using wild strikes. You put up your blade, attempting to block the onslaught of attacks. Your blade collides with hers and the feeling of them hitting each other sends unpleasant feelings through your bones, as if they were rattling.

Your grip falters as she swings a particularly harsh attack. The moment you stumble, she kicks you in the stomach, sending you onto your back, your weapon flying out of your hands. She hops onto you, straddling your hips as she wastes no time in attempting to cleave your face in half.

You move your upper body out the way in time, her butcher's knife digging into the ground beside you. You attempt to block the second attack with your arms, and it ends just as well as you think it would. The blade sinks into your arms flesh, touching the bone. But the adrenaline coursing through your veins accompanied with the shock numb the pain.

Biting your tongue to prevent screaming out, you harshly punch the butcher across the face. Her head careens to the side and droplets of blood fly out of her mouth. You take the small window to harshly shove her off and get up. She lands on her back and your head swings around, looking for your dropped blade.

A glint catches your attention and by your luck, it’s your blade, stuck in the ground sticking directly up. You run over and pull it out, grimacing as your muscles tighten and the wounds on your arms open further, blood spurting out. Hopefully the adrenaline and shock stays just long enough so you don’t collapse in a heap of pain.

You twirl the blade in your preferred hand, gripping it tightly. You can see the buttress starting to get up, her back towards you. You run over, your feet stomping on the ground and just as she turns around, you reach her. Your blade sinks into her leg, causing her to collapse again. You hop onto her, your knee digging into her stomach.

Now it’s her turn to be the one on the ground. However, she still has her blade and uses it to block your own wild swings attempting to hit her in the face. A small crack appears in her blade from your strikes, and it only gets bigger and bigger with each swing. A sudden jolt of pain makes you stop, the adrenaline beginning to wear off as you hiss in pain, clutching your bleeding arm.

Suddenly, her fist comes up and socks your jaw, your teeth harshly clacking together. The taste of blood fills your mouth and something hard gets caught in your teeth. You spit out whatever is in your mouth and it lands on the dirt. It’s your tooth, cracked and bloody. “You.. knocked out my tooth! You bitch!” You become outraged.

The rage blinds your actions as you drop your blade and choose to use your hands instead, harshly grabbing onto her neck and trying to strangle her. Her own hands come up and scratch at yours, attempting to get them off, but you keep them wrapped around. The skin around her neck is already beginning to bruise.

She brings down one of her hands and brings out something from her pocket and makes a severing motion. Before you can realize what she's doing, her body dissipates and vanishes from your world. She’s fled, and you're left crouching on the ground where she once was.

You breathe heavily, spitting out a few more droplets of blood as you start to come down from your raging high. The adrenaline finally wears off and you nearly scream in pain, covering the massive wounds with your hands, you can even feel the pearly-white bone. You wobbly get up, nearly falling over from blood-loss and exhaustion.

You look towards the church, where you originally wanted to go, but was so rudely interrupted. You wobble over to the church, seeing the trail of grace starting to form. Oh thank gods, if you can rest here, the wounds will heal and the pain will be gone. You walk in and your eyes immediately find the grace, sitting so enticingly in the middle of the church.

With great relief, you nearly collapse next to the grace as it lights up. The medical effects of the grace are already seeping over your exhausted body. The wounds on your arms start to close and fix itself, the pain fading away with it. You take a deep breath and let it go, feeling your chest go down.

You should really find more golden seeds to get more flasks. You made a mental note of that before sitting up, feeling better already. Your tongue moves around in your mouth, feeling the spot where your tooth was. Unfortunately, the grace didn’t repair your tooth, only closed the wound and stopped the bleeding.

Damn that butcheress bitch, you hope you never encounter her again.

—-----------------------------------------

You and Torrent ride around Mt. Gelmir, his hooves slamming down on the rocks as you command him to run around. You’ve been trying to find out how to climb this mountain for a few minutes, it just seems like such a maze. So many bridges, dangerous ledges and ladders littered around. Not to mention the hundreds of caves around making you wonder if the way up is on one of them.

But you wanted to go around the more open parts of the terrain first, just to make sure. Your nose catches a horrid scent as you nearly gag. God, what is that? As Torrent turns a corner, you can see the source of the terrible smell. Hundreds of piles of burning bodies laid out in-front of you, and a dilapidated shack standing in what looks like the center of them.

You immediately close your nose with your hand, not wanting to smell the burning and rotting flesh. This wasn’t exactly a new smell, or hell, even a new sight in the Lands Between. But you just really hated the stench, it stinks and clings to everything so unpleasantly and even makes your stomach ache if you inhale too much of it.

As you command Torrent to slow down, his ears suddenly go back as he snorts and hooves at the ground. “Torrent, it’s just a burning pile of bodies, there's nothing to be afraid of.” You say and try to command him to keep walking, but he stops completely and whinnies, huffing angrily and stamping his hoof down.

“Come on, Torrent. I get you’re mad I haven’t given you any rowa raisins. But I’m busy right now and we need to get to the top, I promise I’ll get you some then.” But your promises go in the steeds ear and goes right out the other side as he whinnies louder and rears up. You grab onto his reins to stop yourself from falling off and possibly calm him down.

However Torrent seems inconsolable as he rears up again and begins to fade, going back into the whistle as you fall on your back. You grimace in pain, rubbing your back before getting back up, looking around to see just what set off Torrent so badly. That's when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, goosebumps litter your skin.

An invader, of course. You crack your neck and check your flasks, this time, you're full on flasks and completely unscathed, so this will be a piece of cake. You see the red swirling circle of an invader breaking into your world as a familiar figure comes out, the massive butcher's knife catching your attention before anything else.

“You again.” You grit your teeth. You surely haven’t forgotten this particular adversary as your tongue glides over the spot where your tooth was supposed to be. She recognizes you as well as you can see her piercing yellow eyes glare into yours. Her blade seems to have been repaired, as cracks no longer litter its surface.

“We both know how this is going to end, so how about you sever and leave my world.” Your comment seems to infuriate her as she begins to walk over. The grip on your blade tightens, waiting for her to rush over to you and begin to swing like a wild woman. However, she keeps her distance and circles around. “Now that I’m not hurt and have flasks, you're suddenly not so aggressive.” You try to bait her into attacking first.

She keeps her glare straight on you as you keep your own gaze on her, not wanting her to get behind you. “Come on then, don’t be a coward.” You keep challenging her, but she's not as easy to do so with others you’ve encountered. If she’s not going to be the aggressive one, then you guess you will take the role this time.

Throwing a fire pot, she puts up her blade to dodge it and you use it as a distraction as you run over. Your blade clanging with hers, surprising her and she stumbles back before retaliating. It’s the same dance over again, your attacks blocked by her and her attacks blocked by you. A few times you nearly slip in the corpse pile.

But the battle is suddenly halted as you both look around, feeling that familiar feeling of another invader. You crane your neck to see where this invader could be but you don’t catch the full sight of them, only a glimpse of bright red against the grey rocks. Whoever it was, was directly above you and her upon a cliff.

However, they weren’t as important to you as getting rid of this terror. You both return to the fight, this time, you land the first hit against her leg as she stumbles down onto her knee. You must have nicked an important muscle or a tendon as she struggles to get up, but before you can bring your blade down on her neck, a loud ‘bang!’ catches both of your attention as you both look up.

A hurling ball of fire comes into your vision and it blazes as you so fast you have no time to react. An explosion erupts right beside you and the butcher as you're both thrown into the air and you tumble on the ground, rolling a few times before suddenly falling. Your heart jumps into your throat as you feel yourself rolling off a high cliff, the wind beginning to rush past you.

Only for a moment are you stunned, but you regain your bearings only moments after as you angle yourself upright and stab your blade onto the side of the cliff wall, digging it into the side as your body lurches from the sudden stop. A few sparks erupt from the blade but it seems otherwise in good condition.

You look down, seeing a long drop into a large gorge that looks like it could span miles around the Lands Between. And you could clearly see there was no way back up. You look up and your eyes widen as you see the butcher falling, and who is about to land directly on top of you.

You have a few seconds before she falls onto you, you swing your body to avoid her as she falls past. Only for a sudden tug and massive increase in weight threatens to drag you down. You look down and see her grabbed onto your leg. “Wha- Let go of me!” You kick your leg, attempting to get her off but she holds firm.

“You’re going to drag me down!” You keep kicking and struggling to get her off, but nothing works. “We’ll both fall!” You yell and the prospect of falling seems to ignite a fear in her face as you can feel pity. She suddenly gasps as she points up, and you look to see what she's pointing at.

Looking back up, you can see the second invader leaned over the cliff and looking down at both of you before aiming his jar cannon again. ‘Shit’ is all you can think of as a loud ‘boom!’ rings out again and a ball of fire comes straight for you and it makes contact with your blade and to your horror, you hear the blade snap in half and you're in a free fall again.

You scream as the wind rushes by, your heart in your throat as you fall and fall, the invader with the jar cannon getting smaller and smaller. The fall only lasted for ten seconds, but it felt like forever until you harshly landed on the rocky ground and passed out.

—------------------------------

When you come to, it’s clearly been a few hours. The sun had set hours ago, and the moon replaced its bright sister. Stars twinkled in the sky as a nebula of colours was visible. You’d appreciate the view if you didn’t just fall off a huge cliff into a gorge with no exit. You groan and slowly prop yourself up, feeling around for your flasks.

Luckily, most weren’t crushed in the landing but a few had a more unfortunate fate as they lay shattered. You could also count yourself lucky that you didn’t land on the glass, that would be hell to pick out in the darkness of the night. You immediately chug a flask as your wounds mend and bones heal back up, and soon enough you feel good enough to finally stand up and assess your surroundings.

It’s dark of course, but you can clearly see the steep, tall cliff walls spanning on for longer than you can even see. There’s very little shrubbery around, figures, anything growing down here hardly has anything to sustain itself. Many caves dot the walls of the cliffs, a few with jutting outcroppings. And a lump of tan clothing.

Wait what? You look again and you recognize the lump, who landed not so far from you. It’s the butcher, still knocked out cold from the cold. You know she's knocked out and not dead as you can see her back go up and down with deep breaths. Great, now you're stuck in here with an invader and Torrent won’t answer his whistle because of it. Although strangely, she now lacks the ugly red of an average invader, instead replaced with her normal coloring.

Weird, but that’s not your problem. You take notice that she's missing her butcher's knife and a glint catches your eye. It’s embedded high up in the cliff wall, and it certainly isn’t going to fall out anytime soon. But another glint catches your attention. Right next to the blade is a much smaller, golden object. A finger severer caught in the cliff as well.

You huff, now she can’t leave unless she dies. Though you doubt that she would want to do that to escape this, it sounds a bit drastic. And you know that you yourself can just let yourself die and wake back up at a site of grace and be on your way, but your pockets are filled to the brim with runes and you don’t want to lose them. You die down here, you won’t be able to get the runes back.

Now, how are you going to get out of here? You squint your eyes and look around again, the only notable thing that catches your eye is a large cliff opening behind you. But a groan makes you snap your head back to the heap of the butcher as she begins to move, waking up.

Hmm, maybe she could prove useful. More numbers mean a bigger chance to survive, and besides if anything goes wrong, you can just use her as the scapegoat. It sounds morally bad, but this is the Lands Between and you must do anything to survive and progress further in your journey.

You walk closer, nudging her with your foot. “Hey,” you say, hoping to catch her waking attention. “Hey.” You say a little louder after she doesn’t respond. “Come on, get up-” You’re rudely interrupted as she suddenly wakes up in a violent jolt, grabbing onto your leg and dragging you down. “What the hell!”

She immediately attempts to fight you as she claws at your skin and swings at you as you grab her fists to stop her. “Quit it! I don’t want to fight you!” However your words fall on deaf ears as she only frees her fists from your hold and keeps on her assault, her knuckles just barely grazing against your face as you crawl away.

You get back up as she does but she immediately tackles you and you both roll on the ground, attempting to get the upper hand over each other. You play the defensive while she plays the offensive, scratching and punching, even biting at you. You could feel her teeth sink into your arm and you let out a yell of pain and surprise before shoving her off.

You get up again and rush over to her, holding her down. “I’m not going to fight you!” You try to reason, but she seems intent on spilling your blood. “Stop! Stop! Look around!” You gesture and for once she stops trying to hurt you as she takes a glance around, and you feel her relaxing beneath you.

She looks at you and glares before she wiggles out of your hold and stands, dusting her tan finger maidens attire and you stand as well, crossing your arms. “It goes on for miles.” You chime as she looks back and forth, getting a full view of the near endless ravine.

“Look,” you say and she turns to face you, “we both don’t like each other.” You run your tongue where your back tooth once sat. “But if we want to both get out of here, it’ll be better to stick together.” You offer, however she doesn’t seem all that willing as she digs into a pocket and attempts to pull something out. However when she can’t feel anything, nor pulls anything out, she starts to panic.

“Can’t find your finger severer?” You point up to the cliff wall where her butcher's knife and the finger severer are stuck inside. “Those aren’t coming down any time soon.” You tap your foot impatiently as she looks up, looking mildly distraught but mostly annoyed. “We both don’t want to die, so just follow me and we might get out of here.” You don’t wait for any answer as you turn around and begin to walk away

For a few seconds, you don’t hear any accompanying footsteps but eventually you hear the ‘tap, tap, tap’ of following footsteps as she falls in behind you. You look around again, looking for somewhere to go. Hm, what about the massive cave behind you? It’s better than nothing. You turn to head into the cave opening, feeling a cold breeze blow by.

Behind you, the butcher follows, albeit reluctantly.

—-----------------------------------------

The cave was much bigger and more complicated than you thought. You’ve reached a crossroad already, and you’re unsure of what to take. “Uh.” You mutter, holding up a self-made torch you managed to scavenge. The butcher crosses her arms, waiting for you to make a decision.

“Let's take the left.” You make the decision on the whim and begin to walk through the tunnel, the butcher following behind you. A few times in the past hour you’ve thought of making her go first, so if anything aggressive comes by, she will be attacked. But so far, nothing has jumped out and you aren’t feeling very anxious.

Wind blows through the tunnel and you swear you could hear something as you both continue down the path. The strange sound almost sounds like..breathing? Heavy, animalistic breathing. A jolt of anxiety jumps through you as you suddenly stop and turn, handing her the torch. “How about you go first? Be the leader for a little bit,” You smile.

However she isn’t stupid and shoves the torch toward you, putting it back in your hands. You huff and decide you don’t want another scuffle as you turn back around and continue going, the loud breathing getting louder. Then the smell hits you, it’s fleshy, and musky, like a wet dog.

The tunnel begins to open up and you can notice scratches in the walls, massive scratches. You step into a large opening and you finally find out what’s been making those noises. A gigantic rune bear snores in the middle of the cave, resting on a bed of old leaves, twigs and bones. Beside it, laid two rune bear cubs, sleeping soundly.

You hear the butcher gasp behind you and you slap your hand over her mouth. “Shh.” You shush her and start to tip-toe, not wanting to wake the sleep rune bear. Rune bears are already the bane of your existence, they are far too aggressive for your liking and this one has cubs, so you can only imagine how aggressive it will be if it finds two people in its den.

You and the butcher walk carefully. The stench makes you feel like you're suffocating and you put your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from gagging. But your heart jumps into your throat as your foot crushes a bone beneath it with a horribly loud ‘snap!’ You and the butcher look at each-other before looking at the rune bear.

The rune bear stays asleep for only a moment long, before it sniffs and sniffs again and it opens its eyes. You and the butcher don’t wait a moment longer before taking off running as the rune bears roar loudly, giving chase. You don’t need to be faster than the rune bear, just faster than the butcher.

The rune bear slams down its claws behind you, getting closer and closer as you both run. The bones in the rune bear's lair nearly make you fall over as you jump over them and a small tunnel ahead of you catches your attention. If you can make it, then you’ll escape the rune bears clutches.

The tunnel gets closer and closer as you breathe heavily, still hearing the rune bear following behind you as it snarls angrily. But you don’t dare look back and you dive for the tunnel, stumbling for a few moments before whipping around, expecting the butcher to follow in. But when she doesn’t fall in with you, you look at the cave again.

She’s fallen behind as you can see her stumble over a bone, the rune bear turning around to face her instead. It growls and snarls as it begins to walk over, its claws clicking on the ground. You can’t help but feel.. bad.. This really was the first time you would’ve left someone to die.

You can see the fear on her face as the rune bear gets closer. It reminds you of yourself, double-crossed and left to the wolves. Ugh, why can’t you be like the other cold-blooded tarnished of the lands? You try to keep up that facade, tell yourself that's who you are but it really isn’t.

Scoffing loudly, you wonder if this is the right thing to do. She did try to kill you a few times but you suppose you’re both on equal level now, without weapons and near defenseless. And against your better judgement, you get up and pick up a rock before throwing it at the rune bear.

The rock hardly does anything but bounce off the rune bear's hide, but the rune bear snaps its head towards you, taking offence at the action as it begins to charge. Alright, you’ve dealt with some rune bears before, now let's see if you can evade a momma rune bear. Gods, you hope this will work.

You dash out of the way as the bear's claws slam down, cracking the ground beneath you. It swipes and nearly catches you but you dodge underneath it’s huge claw, feeling the wind of the swipe breeze by. In the corner of your eye, you can see the butcher scramble up from her feet and to the tunnel, disappearing inside.

Now you need to escape the rune bear, you jump over and duck under some more swipes as you back away, nearly stumbling over your own feet. This would be so much easier if you had your weapon with you. The rune bear roars in anger as it suddenly attempts to grab you and you hardly make it out of the way in time.

You look towards the tunnel, seeing the butcher leaning out of it and you duck under another swipe before taking off and attempting to get to the small tunnel with the rune bear hot on your heels. It’s claws nick at your hair, pulling a few strands as it swipes and roars. Just as you’re about to reach the tunnel, its claw catches your leg and claws the back of your thigh.

The pain seers up your back as you run into the tunnel, clutching the back of your thigh. The rune bear attempts to dig its claws into the tunnel but you and the butcher move further down, breathing heavily in fear, exhaustion and for your case, pain. The rune bear claws around, attempting to get at both of you but huffs angrily at it realizes it won’t fit in the tunnel.

Eventually, it roars one last time before turning around and going back to its bed and settling down, its eye’s still trained at the tunnel. You breathe a sigh of relief before letting out a cry of pain, feeling the blood pour from the claw wound on the back of your thigh. You struggle to walk as you limp into the tunnel, the butcher following behind you.

Breathing heavily, you continue down, a trail of blood following you and you're getting weaker and weaker by the seconds.

—----------------------------------

It doesn’t take long until you have to stop, the blood loss getting to you as you get dizzy. You sit on the dusty ground, breathing heavily as the butcher sits across from you, looking down at the ground and avoiding any eye contact.

You hold your hands to the wound, feeling the warm blood coat your hands. You need something to makeshift a bandage. But you don’t have anything that could soak up blood, like some sort of fabric.. Your eyes look towards the butcher, looking at her finger maidens dress. Its fabric looks coarse and looks good enough to soak up blood.

Leaning over, you grab onto her dress and she looks at you confused before you harshly tug and the sound of it ripping echo’s before you take a good chunk of it. She looks astonished as she kicks your hand away, but misses as you lean back and start to wrap the ripped piece from the dress around your thigh.

You can see her staring at you, clearly outraged. You look back, “think of it as repayment, I saved you from being eaten by a bear and you give me something to wrap my wound in.” You don’t give any room for argument but you hear her huff and look away, not having any argument anyways.

The material of the dress soaks up the blood nicely, preventing more from leaking out. You breathe a sigh of relief as you can relax now, leaning on the cave wall. The accompanying silence feels uncomfortable as you both don’t look at each other, but just sit without talking. And the awkward-ness of the situation is suffocating.

“I never learned your name.” You speak up, wanting to get rid of the awkwardness settling in the cave. “What is it?”

She looks away, before picking up a nearby stick and beginning to scribble in the dirt. You get a little closer to see what she’s writing.

‘A-n-a-s-t-a-s-i-a’

“Anastasia, well, that’s a nice name.” You don’t really know how to go on, but you remember something. You haven’t told her your name either. “Well, mine is (Name).” You sit back to where you were before, again, another awkward silence.

“So uh, what's with the finger maiden outfit.” You ask and she scribbles in the dirt again, taking a few seconds.

‘To trick tarnished’ she writes.

“Oh.” You should’ve guessed it, what kind of finger maiden wields a butcher's knife? “But why?” You know some people just want to kill for the sake of killing but she doesn’t seem like that.

‘To eat’

Well, that was an answer you didn’t expect. “Alright, um.” What can you even say now? “Don’t eat me then, I doubt I taste good.” You comment and let the silence fill the cave again. It’s a bit less awkward but it’s still tense. You tend to the wound again, making sure it’s tight enough to stay on your thigh.

Hesitantly getting up, you test out your leg and bandage. You can only limp instead of walk but it’s better than being ridden to the ground. Although it hurts to walk around, it isn’t crippling and you don’t want to stay here for too long, you want to get back to the top of Mt. Gelmir.

“Come on, we should get going. I don’t want to stay here much longer.” You say and begin to limp off and Anastasia joins you, albeit going terribly slow to match your speed. You both walk and walk for a few minutes, in near complete darkness as you had dropped the torch when you ran from the rune bear.

Anastasia’s annoyance only adds with how slow you're going as she sighs, waiting for you to get five feet farther until she takes a few steps herself. You’re both hardly getting anywhere and she wants to speed it up, but she can’t leave you behind nor can you leave her behind. You both need each other for better survival chances, and.. A bit of gratitude.

Anastasia isn’t sure how to feel about what happened, when you distracted the bear. You really didn’t have to, you could’ve just left her to be eaten alive but you took the risk and ended up injured because you saved her. She supposes that she feels obligated to stay and help, even if she did hate your guts near a day ago.

Although, no matter how confused her feelings are, she knows one thing, she wants you to hurry up. You continue your pathetic limp, but suddenly feel hands go under your legs and you're thrown up and onto something. “Hey! What are you doing!” You struggle in her hold as you realize she’s put you over her shoulder.

“I can walk perfectly fine!” You try to get off, feeling her wobble a bit from your weight and struggle. She keeps her hold, not letting you down, she doesn’t want to be slowed down again. The pain from your wound stops you from attempting to kick or struggle all that much as you just let yourself go limp, huffing angrily.

Anastasia goes down the tunnel, finally getting to a natural walking speed and not so slowed down. You’re damn heavy but if she could wield her massive butcher knife, she could carry a person for an hour or two. Her shoulder is already sore, but she doesn’t want to let go.

—-------------------------------

The walk down the winding and confusing tunnels are boring, especially if you were just facing the back the entire time. You could’ve continued your protests and struggles long ago but you decide this is better for your leg and energy. When you get out of this cave, you are heading straight to a site of grace and healing up and getting your weapon back.

Anastasia goes through many twists and turns before she suddenly stops and you crane your neck to see what made her stop. It’s an old bridge, looking as if it’ll collapse at any moment. She lets you off of her shoulder but keeps an arm hooked under your armpit to keep you from collapsing.

“Damn,” you say and hesitantly put a foot on the bridge, hearing it groan in protest. “Thing’s going to break if we both go on.” You can see the worn ropes and missing planks of wood on sections of the bridge. You move from Anastasia’s hold, still limping. “I’ll go first, you go after me.”

She has no protests, she clearly doesn’t want to risk being the first to possibly fall through or to break the bridge. You hobble to the first board and cringe at the sound of the ‘creakkk..’ but you put your full weight onto the board and it luckily doesn’t break. You keep going board after board, clinging onto the worn rope as your legs wobble in fear.

Every step makes you feel as if the board beneath you is going to snap in half and you plunge to your untimely death. A few times you have to step over a missing board, quaking in fear as you do so. You don’t dare to look down, not wanting to freak yourself out further so you only keep your eyes locked onto the edge of the bridge.

A horrid ‘creak’ makes you stop in fear as you hear a ‘snap!’ and a board just behind you falls away and it takes a handful of seconds to hear it ‘bang’ against the rocky floor below. It almost feels like you’ll puke with fear as you continue your slow walk across the bridge. It feels like an eternity before your feet touch rocky ground and when they finally do, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Turning around, you can see Anastasia on the other side of the bridge, now she just needs to get across. “Come on! The bridge will hold!” You yell across, your voice echoing around the massive cavern.

Anastasia clearly hesitates before she steps on the first board, and that horrible creak makes both of you cringe. It feels like a lump forms in your throat as you watch her slowly walk across the bridge. The bridge clearly shakes with how Anastasia shakes with fear herself, and it only makes the lump in your throat worse.

As she gets closer and closer, the bridge groans much louder than it did for you. The bridge has weakened from your travel and it looks as if it’ll collapse with Anastasia’s weight, and she knows that as well. Her knuckles turn white from the grip on the old rope, and she refuses to move.

“Keep moving!” You yell over but she fervently shakes her head. “Ugh, alright just- stay there and I’ll come to you.” This really isn’t a good idea with both of your weight on the old, dusty bridge, it could snap in half. You really need to keep your cold-blooded mindset and translate it into your actions, but yet again, you fail at that.

It’s hard to keep your footing on the shaky bridge, but you very slowly start to come over to Anastasia. But you stop about twelve planks away, not wanting all the weight to converge on one spot. “Take a few steps towards me.” You say and she can only take one step, still terrified.

It’s getting a bit irritating and you both don’t have all day and against your better judgement, you take a few steps closer and the bridge groans louder in protest. “Anastasia, the bridge is going to fall, we need to get across.” You say sternly, trying to get her to move. However she doesn’t budge and shakes her head ‘no’ again.

Sighing, you take just two more steps and you reach out to offer your hand. “Ugh, take my hand and I'll lead you acro-” you don’t need to finish your sentence as she practically digs her hand into yours, her nails scratching at your skin. You wince in pain because of her death grip but it’s better than nothing.

You have to tug her a bit to get her moving but she starts to walk across plank after plank. You make sure to keep a few planks away, hoping that the weight distribution might stop the bridge from snapping in half or a plank falling out from underneath you or her. The end of the bridge is only thirty feet away, which feels like one hundred with how anxious you are.

“We’re almost there, there’s nothing to-” You cut yourself off as a echoing ‘snap!’ sounds out and your eyes widen, looking at the start of the bridge. The ropes had snapped and gravity is beginning to pull the bridge down. “Run!” You shout out and nearly tug Anastasia’s arm out of her socket as you both try to run across the bridge, but the falling bridge catches up to you as you and her scream, falling for a moment but you manage to dig your hand onto a plank. It felt like she'd break your hand with how hard she’s holding onto it, dangling.

‘Creakkk’ The board you’re holding onto cries with the weight dragging it down. If you hold onto the plank for much longer, it’s going to give out and you’ll both fall. Looking down at Anastasia, you have to make a quick decision. “Anastasia! I’m going to swing you up, grab onto a blank and pull yourself up to the top.”

She shakes her head ‘no’ clearly terrified but you don’t have any time to think of another decision. You start to swing back and forth to gain momentum. Anastasia’s nails dig harshly into your hands, not wanting to let go but she’s going to have to when you let go. You swing a bit harder, cringing as the board cries again.

You do one last swing and use all of your strength to pull Anastasia and throw her up. She lets out a yell of fear as she’s hoisted up and latches onto a plank a few feet above you. She shivers in fear as she has a death grip on the plank. She stays still for a few moments before looking down and seeing the height of the fall, activates her fight or flight and she chooses flight.

She quickly climbs up the planks, wanting to get onto solid ground as quickly as she can and you see her reach the top, clearly relieved. Now you need to get up. You dig your hands onto the tops of other planks and begin to pull yourself up, slowly but surely. However, just as you’re about to reach the last three planks, your weight breaks through the planks below you and you dangle.

“Anastasia!” You yell for her, needing her help. “Give me your hand!” You plead, unable to hoist yourself up as you dangle from the old board. You see her look over and down at you, but she seemingly ignores your plea as she disappears from view. Damn, damn, damn, damn! You knew you shouldn’t have trusted her!

Now you’re going to fall to your death and lose all of your runes- you cut your thought short as you suddenly see her reappear again and start to reach down her hand to you. You feel a huge wave of relief wash over you as you use all of your remaining strength to reach out to her. Your fingers graze against hers before she reaches down farther and grabs onto your wrist.

She struggles to lift you but she slowly begins to pull you up and soon enough, you hoist yourself up with her help. You breathe a huge sigh of relief as you lay on the ground, putting your hand over your racing heart as the adrenaline from nearly dying still floods through your veins.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.” You thank Anastasia, keeping a grip on her hand as you get up and engulf her in a tight hug. “I thought you left me.” You admit, feeling the adrenaline starting to calm.

You look back at the collapsed bridge, knowing you can’t go back. You hope this is the right way. “Um.” You clear your throat and quickly let go of her, “sorry, let's get going.” You feel a bit embarrassed as you speed-walk by her, or at least as fast as your injured leg can let you go. She follows after you, keeping her distance.

The only way you go is forward as the tunnel continues on. You let your thoughts invade your mind as you both silently continue through the cave system. You thought she was untrustworthy, you thought she left you for dead when she didn’t immediately reach down and pull you up. Well, you guess it makes you both even, you saved her life from the rune bear, she saves you from falling.

You still had a bit of reservations with her, but they were starting to fade as you both went on. She did help you before you went to the bridge, even if you didn’t want help. You were a bit grateful for her carrying, you are sure your leg would feel like it was on fire if you kept walking all that way. Hmm, her shoulder is probably on fire from carrying you.

You yawn, feeling the wave of exhaustion hit you. You really haven’t been able to take a rest in hours, nor has she. You trek on further until you don’t want to go any further and sit down, cradling your injured leg. It doesn’t hurt all as much anyway but it’s still sore.

“Let’s rest here.” You say and get comfortable, going to tend to the makeshift bandage. Anastasia sits across from you once again, fiddling with the stick she uses to write with. The makeshift bandage is highly sullied, already brownish red with oxidised dry blood. It’s not going to hold up very well for longer and you need more.

You lean over to grab at Anastasia's dress again but she puts her hand up to block you, and moments after she grabs her own dress and rips off a chunk, handing it to you. “Oh, thank you.” You’re a little surprised but gratefully take it and unwrap the old bandage and begin to wrap your thigh in the new bandage.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t bleeding as much so not much blood spilled onto the ground. You wrap the bandage tight and put a little bow on the top. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of the wind trailing through the tunnels and you know you're approaching the end of the cave, although you're both too tired to keep going.

Though the wind is a blessing, it is also a curse. You shiver and cross your arms, trying to conserve heat. Across from you, Anastasia hardly seems affected by the hold. Her finger maidens attire was surprisingly good with conserving heat, even with the large rips. You’re not sure if you want to do this, but you don’t want to freeze.

“Hey Anastasia,” you start and sheepishly grin, desperately wanting warmth. “Could I uh,” you shuffle closer to her. She seems to already understand what you want as she nods and pats the spot next to her, to which you immediately take the offer. The heat from her body already feeling far better than the cold wind of the caves.

You’re a bit stiff, unsure of how close you’ll be able to get with her and you can tell she is stiff as well. Another wind blows through and you subconsciously get closer to Anastasia, who stiffens further. But the exhaustion and tiredness clouds your mind, as you fall asleep on her shoulder.

—--------------------------------------

When you awake, you’re pleasantly warm and cuddled up against something which holds onto you. Your eyes are still closed for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth before you finally decide to open them and shock fills your bones. You’re cuddled up with Anastasia, who sleeps soundly.

You’re a little surprised that she didn’t take the chance when you fell asleep to possibly eat you, like she did to countless other Tarnished. She must be hungry by now, you know you sure are. You shuffle a bit and slip out of her hold, adjusting your hair which had gotten messed up in your sleep.

In response to the absence of your own heat and her hold on you, Anastasia begins to wake and groans as she stretches out, cracking a few bones. You can both tell you haven’t slept for a long while as you're both still tired out of your minds, yawning and wanting to go back to sleep. But something rests in the cave, something you both can’t ignore.

You don’t look at her, as you can’t help but feel fuzzy and weird. You really hadn’t thought of cuddling up with another woman, but it was so pleasant. Ugh, what are you thinking? It was only for warmth, nothing more.. Besides, you just met her about a day ago.

Hands coiling around your waist and pulling you back makes you gasp, “Woah! Do-don’t do that, Anastasia.” You feel a blooming heat rise in your lower stomach. Night’s are usually so full of lust, and you haven’t been satisfied in a while. You try to keep those thoughts away, but they pester you like a thousand insects.

Anastasia feels it too, the tension in the cave getting tighter and worse. She’s been with women multiple times, and she’s rather enjoyed it and so did the other woman. You’re both going to be done with your little journey together soon, but she feels like she hasn’t gotten all that she wanted. You did save her life a few times, and she wants to repay you.

“Did you want something?” You try to remain normal, although you both know what's going on. Her chest presses up against your back and you can feel her breasts squish against you. Your face heats up immediately as you can feel yourself getting wet, far wetter than any man has made you and she was only hardly touching you.

Anastasia can only feel herself getting more turned on, she’s always liked being the dominant one and she certainly feels dominating with how you don’t stop her. Her teeth start to graze your neck, the sharpest canine fangs sending shivers down your back and goosebumps racing through your skin.

You bite back a small moan, still feeling so confused. If you let it continue, this will be your first time with another woman and strangely, that thought sounds way more enticing than anything in the moment. Anastasia hears the little moan, even if you try to hide it and she smiles before biting on your neck.

You inhale in shock as her teeth sink in, letting the smallest drips of blood trail down your neck. Her tongue and teeth so eagerly explore your neck and leave the evidence of their presence with hickeys and marks, all while you get wetter and wetter with every bite. It’s like she's trying to eat you.

Her hands move down to your stomach and eventually rest on your thighs, waiting. You look down at her hands, and you make the decision to fully delve into this. “Go on..” your voice is the slightest bit husky and hushed. She wastes no time as she begins to tease you, rubbing at your pussy through the fabric.

Your back arches as your breath gets hot and you nearly buck into her hand, needing more. No one is here to see, and no one has to know? So why hold back on your lust? She bites on your neck again as she spreads your legs with her hands before slipping them beneath your pants and teasing at your panties for a moment, before finally reaching your bare pussy.

Anastasia’s fingers circle around, feeling how wet you are and she smiles again. She was expecting some wetness but not for you to be so drenched, and she can’t wait to make you even more soaked. Her fingers easily slide into your pussy and you let yourself moan out as they feel around.

Her fingers go as deep as they can, getting soaked in your wetness as they explore for a few more moments and suddenly curl up, pushing up against your g-spot and you nearly cry out. It’s been so long since that immeasurable feeling of pleasure plagued your body and you desperately need more of it.

“Please, more..” You breathlessly say, feeling her fingers standing still but at the whine, she plays along and starts to slowly thrust her fingers in and out, curling up the slightest bit with each pump. With every whine and moan she elicits from you, the more pleasure she gets herself. She more of loves pleasuring other women, as it brings her her own pleasure.

She adds another finger and curls them up, feeling you shiver and hearing you moan. Three fingers pump inside you, getting shiny with the wetness of your pussy. Her free hand comes to your chest and begins to tear off your top, exposing your breasts to the cold wind and she doesn’t take long to fondle them.

A knot begins to tie in your stomach and Anastasia knows this, feeling how you squirm and tighten up around her fingers. Her hand that was playing with your breasts comes up your neck, squeezing it as she begins to asphyxiate you, leaving just enough for you to take the smallest of breaths.

You didn’t expect to like being choked, but gods did it make her fingers feel so much better. Your mind begins to get cloudy and light headed from lack of oxygen as she holds firm, seeing how you react. A bit of drool falls from your mouth, as you gasp for air and the knot tightens and tightens until it finally comes to a head.

Your muscles clench as you scream out, orgasming all over Anastasia’s fingers. Your thighs are coated with your own cum and Anastasia’s fingers slowly come out from your pussy, glimmering with your juices. She brings her hand back to her mouth and puts the soaked fingers in, tasting you. But it’s not enough for her, she needs more.

Suddenly, you're lifted and placed on your back. You’re still so light-headed from the asphyxiation and how hard you orgasmed, so you hardly feel her fully take off your undergarments and throw them away. Her hands come to your thighs, spreading your legs once again.

A tickle on your thighs makes you look down to see her place her face between your legs, her eyes locked on yours. Her tongue comes out to begin to lick at your clit and slide between your folds, wanting to taste all of you.

You shiver in pleasure, the feeling of a tongue is so strange and new but it’s so great. You reach down and your hands tangle in her hair, pulling her closer. She wastes no time as she sticks her tongue inside and begins to eat you out.

Your hands keep a firm hold on her hair as your legs shiver and sweat trails on your skin. Her tongue rubs against your walls and she occasionally takes it out to lick at your clit, making you twitch with pleasure. Her tongue swirls and reaches as far as it can, licking up every drip of wetness she can.

Anastasia takes her tongue out, a string of saliva and your wetness sticking to her tongue. She brings herself back down to focus on her cliff as she engulfs it, her tongue licking and swirling around it as she keeps eye contact with you, seeing how you struggle to take it. Tears brim at your eyes from the stimulation, already feeling another orgasm beginning to form.

She sucks and licks at your clit even more, enjoying every sound you make. She can feel herself starting to get close to her own orgasm, simply watching you struggle gives her pleasure as she feels herself dripping. Her fingers come to insert themselves inside all while she sucks as your clit.

She puts in three fingers and curls up and down quickly, and you can hardly contain yourself. Your mind is clouded with lust and pleasure, your face and body is so warm with sweat and want. You can’t help yourself as you wrap your legs around Anastasia and pull her as close as you can.

The orgasm that runs through your body feels like nothing you’ve felt before. Tears break free from your eyes as you buck your hips into Anastasia and cum. It feels like your stomach is going to cramp with how hard it was.

Anastasia laps up as much of your juices as she can, tasting every bit of you. To her, you tasted so heavenly. She finally lets up and moves her mouth from your pussy, her face covered before she wipes it off with the sleeve of her maiden's attire. You breathe heavily as you stare up at her, slowly coming down from your high.

When you get your reasonable mind back, you feel so strange. That was the best sex you’ve had in ages, and it was with another woman. You look away in embarrassment and she smiles, knowing exactly what she’s done as she backs away from you and lets you get dressed.

You finish getting dressed and look back at Anastasia who watches, which only makes you more embarrassed as you turn to face her. “Once we leave, we don’t speak of this to anyone.” You try to be stern but she doesn’t seem at all bothered as she shrugs her shoulders, which looks like a reluctant ‘fine’ to you as she rolls her eyes.

She suddenly begins to write in the dirt again, ‘let's do this again.’ She’s shameless.

“Fine..” You say, and cross your arms. “Next time we meet, that’s when.” You look towards where the wind was coming from and signal for Anastasia to get up and follow. “Since we’re both awake, let's just get out of here.”

Anastasia follows you as you listen and feel for the wind to lead you out of the cave. It’s confusing to traverse the complex system with how wind travels but the faintest glimmer of light gives you a major relief. And soon enough, you're both out of the cave as the morning sun begins to shine across the horizon.

You look at Anastasia, and give her a nod ‘farewell’ and she gives you a sly smile and a little wave goodbye as you go on your separate ways.

—------------------------------------

It’s been a while since you’ve encountered Anastasia but that moment in the cave plagues your mind nearly everyday. Sometimes you even thought of invading in hopes to find her but you didn’t.

As you travel through the consecrated snow fields on Torrents back, that horrible feeling of an invader crawls up your back and as you turn to see who it is. You can only smile as she walks closer to you, having already put her weapon down before she writes on the snow.

‘Uphold your promise?.’

You nod.

Chapter Text

Content: Lore has been altered slightly (or a lot) to support the story. Lets go lesbians lets go! Bad ending.. doomed lesbians… anyway, fingering and other lesbian sex stuff. Also reader dies, but yall know how my stories go <3. Suicide at the end. Terminally ill reader :(

You’re sick, far too sick to leave.

The cot creaks and groans under your weight as you cough violently, feeling your lungs ache and your ribs rattle. You put your hand up to your mouth, coughing into it and then pulling away, noting the blood staining your hands skin. However, that didn’t bother you now, it happened all the time so it was really nothing concerning.

Just what have you done to be stricken down like this? It started about a month ago, when you fell ill. It was nothing too concerning at first, just some coughs and a headache. You thought you were simply coming down with a cold or the flu, so you didn’t go to see a doctor, thinking it would pass on its own.

It didn’t pass, and only got exponentially worse. Whatever the disease was, it was spreading through your body like a wildfire. Your coughing got horrid, and it always felt like you were coughing up a lung. And then you began to cough up blood, and that’s when you decided to rush to the doctors for a diagnosis and possible cure.

Of course, they welcomed you in and put you in a patient's room. There they kept you, giving you medicines and monitoring your condition. But the medicine didn’t do anything to alleviate your pain and deteriorating body. The disease began to attack your muscles, eating away at your legs as they got weaker by the day. Until, they became too weak for you to walk.

Your skin began to take on a sickly hue, and it became terribly weak, bruising at any slight pressure and staying purple’d for days on end. You were in the hospital for weeks, feeling as if you were dying in your bed.

But one day, a strange man, who you recognized as a Healing Church member, came into the hospital and began to speak with your doctors. You couldn’t exactly figure out what they were conversing about, but the doctors sounded frightened.

After a few moments of muffled conversation, the door to your room was opened and in walked your doctors with the strange man coming in behind them. They told you that you were being moved, and to take what you wanted to bring.

The only possession you took was a handful of books, your favourite books. They helped you into a wheelchair and the strange man began to wheel you away. He was silent the entire time as he brought you around the ward and onto an elevator.

You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the strange man, and you wanted to ask where he was taking you but just talking felt like your throat was being cut open from pain. So you simply stayed silent and kept your questions to yourself.

He took you up another elevator as you both got higher up in the ward. Until, after passing a blooming lumenflower garden and up, yet again, an elevator, you arrived where he wanted to put you.

You passed by a golden plaque, engraved with the words ‘Research Hall’ and entered into a massive building. This Research Hall was multiple floors high, a twisting staircase in its centre connecting the floors like a spiders web.

The sounds of doors opening and closing, distant talking, clinks of medical tools, and rolling wheels made their way into your ears. As he moved you around the Hall, you read other plaques plastered on the walls.

The plaques read certain names, most likely of important doctors in the hall, a few plaques had the words ‘surgery’ on them and another handful were numbered, definitely patients' rooms.

He took you up one last elevator and to the second highest floor, before wheeling you into one of the numbered rooms. It was a large room lined with beds, only separated by soft blue curtains between them. There were clearly other patients in here, as you could see some lying in their beds or hear them whispering behind their closed curtains.

Until he came across one empty bed, and helped you out of your wheelchair and onto it. And it’s where you are now, one of your books splayed out on your lap as your eyes read over the familiar passages.

You’ve read your books from front to back about ten times each by now, and they were starting to become terribly boring. Of course, you could pull back your curtains and try to talk to your roommates but they weren’t the best people to have a conversation with.

You read the same page over and over again, sighing heavily before closing the book and placing it on a small, bedside table. You instead take to fidgeting with the blood transfusion needle stuck in the bend of your arm.

The doctors hated when you did that but what else was there to do? You scratch and fiddle with it as you feel the smallest sting of pain and wince. The transfusion needle has been given to you the first day you came, and it’s sort of helped so far.

You weren’t coughing as much as before and you weren’t nauseous all the time, so that was a plus. But the needle gave you such a terrible nightmare the first night you slept with it in. Even now it makes goosebumps crawl up your back.

But messing with your needle quickly lost its value, and just before you were about to go back to reading your book, a loud voice interrupted you.

“Oh Lady Maria! You’ve come!”

The voice is cheerful and almost sounds relieved. The shout had quickly set off a chain reaction as more voices joined the chorus.

“Lady Maria! Please come to me!”

“Lady Maria, Lady Maria! I’ve something for you!”

“Please talk to me!”

The shared room was quickly becoming far too loud and you heard a ‘shhh’ come from someone, most likely from that Lady Maria that they shouted about. Almost instantly, the room fell silent but the atmosphere of tension and excitement remained.

You can’t help yourself from peeling back your curtains and peeking out to see the object of the ruckus. However, you could only catch the faintest of a glimpse of this ‘Lady Maria’ before she disappeared behind a patient's curtains.

You let go of your curtains and let them fall back as you lay on your cot, disinterested now. Maybe this ‘Lady Maria’ was just some entertainer that the patients truly adored. Picking up your book again, you crack it open and begin to read.

However, your reading time is cut short as your curtains are unceremoniously pulled back and you jump in fright, looking up to see who did it. It’s a young woman, dawning a hunter's attire. Her skin is pale, her hair such a soft blonde it’s almost white, and tied back, and her eyes, the brightest blue you’ve ever seen.

She sees your surprise, “oh, did I scare you? My apologies.” She apologies, her voice is accented, an accent you don’t recognize but it sounds particularly soothing.

She smiles at you as she brings a chair to sit next to your bed, “I haven’t seen you before.” She keeps the small conversation going, but you know it’s going to be mostly one-sided. “I am Lady Maria, and you are?”

You aren’t sure if you want to answer, not because you aren’t sure of her, but you don’t want to hurt your throat. Well, maybe you can use your voice just this once. “(Name)” your voice is weak and strained, clearly pained.

Maria lightly cringes at the sound of your voice, “ah, I understand. You don’t need to speak if you wish not to.” Well that’s a relief. She goes silent as she thinks of something to say, looking you over.

“Hmm, I wonder what exactly it is that ails you.” She says, keeping her gaze on you. “You are not like the other patients in the hall, they are not as sick as you are.” She looks pitiful. “Ah, I have an idea. Please give me a moment.”

She says before getting up and leaving your bedside, vanishing behind your curtains. You can hear her footsteps leave the room, and feel the tension of the other patients awaiting their turn with her.

It takes only a minute for her footsteps to come back and for her to peel back the curtains, revealing her holding a notepad and a pencil before she outstretched them to you, wanting you to take it. “Here, so you won’t need to strain yourself.”

Taking the notepad and pencil, you look up at her in mild shock. She was certainly kind, and treated you much better than the doctors in the hall. The doctors hardly did anything for you unless it was vital for your health.

You begin to scribble on a blank page and turn it to present it to her, with two simple words on it. ‘Thank you!’

Maria smiles, “your welcome.”

It feels like you have a new way to express yourself with no pain as you turn it back to yourself, immediately scribbling a question on it before turning it to her. The question. ‘I don’t recognize your accent, where are you from?’ is written hastily on the page.

“I am from Cainhurst.” She answers, “it is not a common accent, I understand why you cannot recognize it. I’ve been told it is soothing to listen to.”

You nod, agreeing and she lightly laughs. “I am glad you agree. I’d hope it wasn’t scary, I wouldn’t want to frighten the patients.” She jokes with you and you have to keep from letting out a little chuckle, it would hurt otherwise.

But you can’t keep it in as you laugh, but it’s cut off suddenly as you begin to cough violently. Your chest pushes in as you take in gulps of air before continuing the coughing fit, feeling as if your throat was being torn apart as you put your hand up to your mouth. The moment you finally stop, your hand is covered in your blood.

Lady Maria looks at you in concern, before she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a white, pristine handkerchief. “Here, use this to clean it off.” She offers. You look at the handkerchief, it’s a clearly expensive one with subtle silver embroidery. You don’t take it.

“Please, I do not need the handkerchief. You need it much more than I do.” She gently takes your hand to pull it over to her, your bloody palm face up. Just as she's about to clean off the blood, she looks at you. “Ah, I should ask, would you be fine with me cleaning your hand? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You nod once again, accepting her kindness. She looks back down to press the handkerchief against your bloody palm, seeing the blood immediately soaking up into the fabric. It’s material was so soft, like nothing you’ve felt and the gloves she wore were rough but her actions so gentle. You could tell why the other patients so badly wanted her attention.

She finishes cleaning up the blood, and looks around to dispose of the bloody handkerchief before she throws it into a disposable bin next to your bed which was mostly empty because you hardly used it. And to your disappointment, she lets go of your hand and you bring it back to yourself to begin writing down on your paper.

Turning the page toward her, it reads. ‘Thank you again, you are very kind. Much better than the doctors here.’ Your handwriting is a bit messy, it felt like you couldn’t write fast enough to express how you feel.

“So I’ve been told,” she admits. “But I think of myself not as kind, but as normal. It is no effort for me to be merciful and kind.”

As you go to write a response, her gloved hand comes to rest on your arm. “I think we have discussed enough of me, I want to learn more about you.” She says and you stare up at her for a moment before smiling and nodding as she asks a question. “Where did you come from? You don’t look yharnamite to me.”

You write your response and show it to her, ‘I am not a yharnamite, I come from a city far away. I came here for the blood healing, I heard it works wonders.’ it was true, you aren’t a local Yharnam resident and it was evident in your features.

“That is quite interesting, I haven’t met a foreigner in a long time.” She says. “I do hope you are enjoying Yharnam, it can be quite the city at times.”

Writing a quick scribble, you show it again. ‘I am enjoying it, yes! Although the locals aren’t the friendliest to me, I’ve gotten tougher skin. I hope I’ll get better soon, I want to return to my normal life.’

Noticing the transfusion needle in your arm, she comments. “Do not worry, I am sure you will be healed soon, the blood will help you greatly.” She reassures you and you can’t help but feel a little more happy about your situation. “Ah, speaking of your ailment, what exactly plagues you?”

Your pencil writes quickly, feeling as if the words weren’t being transmitted fast enough from your racing mind. ‘I am unsure of it, and so are the doctors. I’ve already lost the mobility of my legs, I hope I’ll get them working again.’

“I’m terribly sorry.” She says, feeling bad for your predicament.

‘Don’t stress yourself out about it, you didn’t do it. Ha-ha.’ you write the laugh you so badly wanted to let out at your own joke.

Maria giggles, “you are right about that.” She pauses for a moment, before looking at the curtains and sighing. “Again, I’m sorry but I must go, the other patients want to speak to me.”

You nod in understanding and watch as she gets up, taking her chair with her and just as she’s about to leave, she looks back at you. “Would you like me to come back tomorrow?” And needless to say, you accept with a smile. “Goodnight.” She says as she vanishes behind your curtain, and hearing her footsteps walk to the other patients.

Snuggling into your bed, you put the notepad and pencil on your bedside table and let out a heavy sigh of happiness. You were beginning to become depressed with this monotony, repetitiveness, and fear of the Hall so Lady Maria was a greatly welcomed change in your schedule.

Your cot feels much more comfortable than it was before as you stare up at the ceiling, thinking of tomorrow. Right now, she was really the only thing to look forward to in here, or to wait for. The essence of sleep drowns out your other senses as you let yourself go, sleeping comfortably for the first time in many nights, on your cot.

It felt like the hours stretched out so terribly as you sat in your cot, twiddling your hands anxiously as you waited for Maria to come. You aren’t exactly sure when she’ll be back, but she came around this time yesterday, maybe she’ll come at this exact time.

The clock ticks as seconds go by, and it only makes it feel like time is going by slower. It was dinner time, so all of your roommates had left already to go eat while your food was delivered to you. You suppose that was a plus, they wouldn’t be vying for Maria’s attention and you could talk uninterrupted.

You reach over to your nightstand and grab your notepad and pencil, twirling the pencil in between your fingers. A few notes had been scribbled on the page, mostly questions to ask Maria. Such as: ‘how was Cainhurst like? Are you a hunter?’

On second thought, that question had an obvious answer and you crossed it out, looking at your other miscellaneous questions such as favourite things and maybe what she does all day. She must be very busy.

Hearing the door to the room creak open makes you look up, excited. You had moved your curtains to the side just to see if Maria was coming in, and to your luck you can see her familiar figure walking over to your cot.

You smile up at her as she comes to the side of your bed and speaks. “I’m sorry I was late, I have been very busy.” She quickly apologies, and you can smell that strange waft of beast blood. And you can see a bloody weapon equipped on her back. But it looks like she tried to wipe off as much blood as possible.

Flipping over to a fresh page, you scribble down your response. ‘I understand and that’s fine, there’s no one to interrupt us so we can talk for all your free time.’

Maria looks around, noting the absence of the other patients. “I’ve noticed, and where have they gone?” She says, a bit confused on why the room is suddenly empty.

‘They are eating, I have my food given to me here.’ You write before turning the page back to you, writing more. ‘It’s rather lonely, I’m glad you're here.’

Maria smiles, “I’m relieved I can ease loneliness. Now we can talk, could I ask questions about you first?” She asks.

You nod and wait for the questions, pencil poised to a blank page.

“How long have you been here?”

‘A few weeks by now, entirely in this room’ you write.

Maria hums, her face looking a bit concerned. “That must be terribly boring, isn’t it?”

‘It is, it feels like I’ve been trapped here for ages’ your writing is a little sloppy as you quickly write but it’s eligible. ‘Usually, I’m all by myself’

“I’ll be visiting much more often, so you needn’t worry about that last part.” She smiles and that glimmer of hope flutters in your chest.

‘I’m glad!’ You smile but the smell of blood clinging to her distracts you. ‘Did you just get back from a hunt?’ The hunts were a relatively new-ish thing by now, but everyone has become aware of them.

An embarrassed blush flushes over Maria. “Yes I have, is the blood distracting? I tried to get as much off as I could.”

‘The smell is a bit strange but I can bear it.’ You write.

Maria hums, not exactly believing you. And to your surprise, she brings her hands to start taking off the long, draping coat which was what produced the odour. She takes it into her hands and folds it neatly, setting it on the floor beside her.

The smell was a lot less noticeable now, only catching the tiniest of whiffs. “Is that better?” Maria asks.

‘You didn’t need to do that.’ You feel a bit bad.

“It’s alright,” she says, noticing that look of guilt on your face. “I wanted it off, it is quite hot in here.” She smiles.

‘If that’s what you wanted.’ You write and shrug your shoulders and something suddenly worms itself in your brain. Quickly scribbling down, you ask her a favour. ‘Could you tell me about one of your hunts? I just want to hear a new story, I’ve already read the ones on the page, could I hear one from you? If it’s fine with you.’

Maria takes a moment to read the note. “Ah, a story about one of my hunts? How unexpected” She seems a bit surprised at the peculiar request and visibly thinks for a moment, racking her brain for a story to tell you.

“It’s a bit of a long one, if you are alright with that.” She says and you nod, excited to hear a story. “I was still under the guidance of the Beast Hunter, Gherman. I had only begun to hunt, and I was not as skillful as I am now.”

You patiently listen as she tells her story, imagining the details in your head. She continues to speak. “It was my first hunt, and I was excited to begin. My first beasts fell easily, torn by my blade.” She seems a bit proud. “But as the night went on, I became more confident in my abilities.”

She pauses to remember more details. “Either for the better, or the worse.” She lets out a small laugh. “I had challenged a hulking beast, I thought I could hunt it by myself.” It almost sounds like a cautionary tale. “But I was wrong. I was not prepared to handle a beast of that strength.”

‘What did it look like?’ You write.

“Hm? I am not the best at descripting.” She hums before looking at your notepad. “Perhaps I could illustrate it? If you’ll let me.” You can easily tell she wants the pencil and notepad and you give it to her.

She takes them and flips to a fresh, blank page and begins to scribble. You lean over to see what she’s drawing but you can’t exactly make it out. It’s clearly big, and it has horns? Or are those lumps? You raise your brow, confused when she presents it to you.

Taking the notepad and pencil back, you take a closer look, maybe you’ll figure it out that way… nope, it was still just a bunch of scribbles loosely making up a shape. You flip to a page and write, ‘I can’t make this out.’

This time, it’s time for Maria to be confused and she leans over, flipping the page back to her drawing. She points, “that was the beast's horns.” They look more like a mangled mess of twigs. She points again, “and this was its claws.” One of them was tiny, the other obscenely large.

‘That’s not what it looks like to me, it just looks like scribbles’ you write on a different page. Maria looks a little embarrassed.

“I am not the best at it.” She admits, looking away. “Ah, but I should continue with my story.” She says, changing the subject. “The beast nearly killed me, I got in over my head and thought I would come out victorious.”

As she speaks, you flip to a new page and decide to try and recreate what Maria drew. Of course, all beasts had canid-like features, so you began with its face.

“It proved me wrong, and unfortunately I had been hurt by its claws.” She suddenly pulls up her sleeve, revealing her shoulder which was marred with a large scar. You gawk at it before she puts her sleeve pack down. “Gherman had to lend me his aid, and in the end the beast fell.”

She smiles, remembering. “He got quite peeved with me afterwards,” she says, stifling a laugh. “I had learned, harshly, that day, to not be so overconfident.” She ends her story.

To your luck, the moment she finished her story was the moment you finished your sketch. Turning it around to her, a small note on the side asks, ‘did it look like this?’ And she leans in to get a good look at the rendition.

“Yes it did,” she looks awe’d. “You have quite the hand.” She compliments your art and you feel a little fuzzy in your chest.

‘Thank you, I’ve had plenty of time to practise.’ You were already a good artist before now, but with all this free time you used it to hone your skills further on spare papers the doctors forgot about.

Turning the paper back to you, you write again. ‘Could I hear more stories?”

Maria smiles, “of course. We have the rest of the day, and I have many stories to share.”

It felt like the days blurred together with Maria around. She was always right next to your bed, hardly leaving your side. She only ever left to speak with other patients or for the night, or the occasional chore. But it was mostly only you and her, and you only got closer with each other.

You often found yourself having to hold in a laugh or just having a great time whenever Maria was around. The worries of your world had quieted when she was around and the pain of your body went silent.

The feeling of your leg moving a bit reminds you of the good news you wanted so desperately to share with Maria. Lately, you have been getting better and better and haven’t felt terrible in a while. While you still couldn’t talk without pain, the doctors told you you could start therapy to walk again.

And so far, you’ve been able to hold yourself up just for a bit, with some help of course. Maybe you could take a walk with Maria today? You sure hope so.

The sound of the room's door opening and familiar footsteps makes you perk up, leaning out to see beyond your half-closed curtains to see if it’s her. And sure enough, it’s Maria who comes eagerly to your bedside.

‘Maria, it’s good to see you’ you write. It’s been a few days since you saw her. ‘What have you been doing all this time?’

“I have been attending to some duties in Yharnam. Terribly sorry but they kept me far busier than I thought.” She quickly apologises, remembering how she missed the day she promised you she would be back.

‘It’s fine, I understand. You’re a very important person, I would be more confused if you had a free schedule.’ You write, unintentionally flattering her.

“Thank you, but I’m not the important person.” With how pale her skin is, it’s easy to see the dusting of pink in her cheeks. “I was attending with Gherman, he is an important figure.” She tries to stay humble.

‘Not to me. You are very important to me.’ You write and stun Maria for a moment as the blush on her cheeks only gets more prominent. And to which she takes off her hat and uses it to cover her face.

You audibly laugh, visibly shocking Maria as you don’t immediately burst into a coughing fit. It reminds you of the great news you wished to share. ‘I almost forgot to tell you.’ You write and catch her attention again.

Flipping to a clean page, you begin to write a small paragraph. ‘The doctors have told me that I’m getting better. They said I’ll be able to talk again, I really can’t wait. And the best part, they told me I’ll regain the mobility of my legs in a few weeks time. It’ll take less time if I do my exercises too!’

Maria takes a moment to read the entire note before her face lights up and she quickly puts on her hat before she engulfs you in a hug suddenly. Her hug is crushing for only a moment before she remembers to be gentle.

Your eyes widen in surprise but you put your hand on her back and pat it, smiling softly to yourself. Surprisingly, even with all that gear on, she’s quite comfortable to be held close.

“I’m so glad.” She near whispers, trying to hold in her emotions. “That you’re feeling better.” She slowly pulls away, smiling at you as she sits on the edge of your cot. She has to take a visible breath to keep her held-back emotions in check.

‘I actually want to ask you a small favour.’ You write.

“And what would it be?”

‘I want to exercise my legs but I’ll need help. If you're alright with it, could you help me get up?’ You had more trouble with getting up than walking. You outstretch your hand, waiting for her answer.

Maria nods, “I’ll be glad to help.” She takes your hand, her tough gloves feel so strange against your bare skin. She begins to pull you up, making sure not to hurt you while doing so.

You swing your legs to dangle off of the bed and Maria moves to put your arm around her shoulder and her other hand wraps around your waist to support you.

Slowly, you begin to slide off the bed and your bare feet touch the cold, wooden ground. But the sudden weight of your body causes your legs to momentarily give out as Maria strains to lift you back up. It takes her a moment but she helps you stand as you lean against her, feeling how weak your legs are.

You want to apologise for nearly dragging her down with you, but you don’t have your pencil or notepad as it lies on the bed. Besides, one of your arms is wrapped around Maria, so you really wouldn’t be able to write anything.

“There, can you stand?” She asks as you steady yourself. Your legs buckle, struggling with your weight but you nod and take a step. Maria steps with you, feeling you put your weight against her to not fall over. When you try to take another step, she attempts to step with you again but your leg gets tangled in hers for a moment.

You both stumble and lean to the left as you both try to keep from falling over, only succeeding in getting further tangled and stumbling around the large room, nearly hitting a few objects. Maria hits a wall and finally stops moving around, her grip is tight on you, not wanting you to fall.

Maria laughs lightly, “you told me your legs are getting stronger?” She jokes and you playfully hit her. You take a cautious step forward, and this time Maria doesn’t tangle her leg around yours. You both take more steps, starting to get into a small flow of walking in-tune with each other in order not to drag the other around or trip up.

With each step, your legs got better with carrying your weight. Even if they still wobbled and ached the slightest, you didn’t lean on Maria as much. You slowly walk to your cot, Maria still supporting the weight you couldn’t bear. Reaching down with your free hand, you pick up your pencil and notepad.

You look at Maria and hand her the notepad, to her confusion. “What is this for?”

But when you press the pencil against the blank page, she figures it out. ‘I need you to hold this while I write, I can’t carry both of them.’

“Alright, I’ll do that.” She keeps the notepad held out so you can keep writing.

‘I want to go somewhere.’

“Where do you want to go?”

‘Anywhere, I just want to get out of this stuffy room.’

“Let’s take a walk around the hall.” Maria suggests and you wouldn’t mind that s you put the pencil away, indicating your done talking and she puts the notepad to hang on her belt.

She takes a few steps, making sure you're in sync with her before she starts to walk normally with you by her side. She walks to the door and opens it, going through with you. When you finally leave the room, it feels like an immeasurable amount of relief flows through you.

It’s been so long since you’ve been outside that room, that you nearly forgot just how grandiose in size the Research Hall was. You walked closer to the railing, Maria by your side. Peering over the railing, it’s almost dizzying with how high up you are. You remembered you were on the second to last highest floor the moment you looked down, so it came as a friendly surprise.

On the other floors were doctors walking around, patients mingling and surprisingly, some people dawned the garbs of the Healing Church as well. Numerous doors opened and shut, the occasional medical assistant wheeling something or someone out or in. It really reminded you of how alive this place is. Being trapped in that room for weeks on end, really distorted your view.

And now that you're out, it fuels your need for more. You suddenly take a few steps back and turn, surprising Maria as she has to quickly sync her walking with yours.

You begin to walk to the left, taking your time and looking around the floor. Golden plaques with doctors' names engraved on the top of certain doors, or numbered patients' rooms pass by you and Maria.

Maria can see how excited you are and she smiles, “I know you're excited, but I think you should slow down.” She comments, noting how fast you're trying to walk.

You start to walk slower, taking in her recommendation. A few patients walk past both of you, some of them looking at you weirdly for leaning so much on Maria. But you happily wave to them, being in such a good mood.

You take out your pencil and Maria takes your notepad from her belt, holding it out so you can write. ‘There’s not much on this floor, can we go downstairs?’ You put back your pencil and Maria puts the notepad back on her belt.

“Yeah, there are not many things to see on this floor.” She should know, she’s been all around it countless times. She begins to walk with you into a room where she knows an elevator is, but she suddenly stops, feeling a tug as you keep your feet firmly planted on the floor, refusing to move.

“Is something the matter?” She asks and then she notices you point to the stairs. “You want to use the stairs?”

You nod, wanting to exercise your legs further and, you admit, to impress Maria that you're getting stronger. Strong enough to go up and down the stairs and not have to always use the elevators.

“Hmm, are you sure? It might be too much strain.” She says, a bit worried.

But you stick with your decision and give her a little tug, confirming you wish to use the stairs. Maria gives a small sigh of defeat but goes along with it as she begins to walk with you to the start of the twisting staircases.

Maria takes the first step, and she holds you a bit tighter as you step down with her. For a moment, your legs buckle and she rushes to hold you fully with her free hand but you put your own up to stop her, and balance yourself seconds after.

You give her a thumbs up, showing your fine. Maria’s hand lays over her chest, right over her racing heart. She smiles, stifling a small laugh. “You’re going to make me faint.” She says, referring to how badly you're worrying her now.

You take another step and she does as hell, you both take your time stepping down the stairs. Each time your knees buckled the slightest bit, Maria rushed to possibly grab onto you if you fell, but luckily you didn’t.

Reaching the centre of the web of stairs, you step onto the platform. That small descent made you a little exhausted, you haven’t exerted yourself in so long that a walk down the stairs is strenuous.

Maria notices your breathing, “do you want to continue or would you like to stop?” She feels like she’s going to get grey hair because of this.

Putting up your pencil, Maria immediately takes out your notepad and holds it out for you. You write ‘I want to continue, I’ll be fine.’

She walks with you to the next descending staircase and you both begin to slowly make your way down without any obstacles in your way. Your feet touch the cold ground floor, and you look around.

A large door stands at one end of the building, closed tightly but it’s clearly the door leading to the outside. The prospect of going outside after all of these weeks excites you and before you know it, you're walking to the large door with Maria by your side.

Other patients wandering the ground floor look at you two, tilting their heads in confusion. The door gets closer and closer and your excitement only grows as it does so. However, the sound of pounding footsteps and a shout of.

“Stop!”

Makes you both stop in the middle of your tracks and crane your necks to look behind you, where the shout came from.

A doctor, an older man comes running up, out of breath as he gets in front of you and Maria, putting his hand up to stop you from both getting to the door. He takes a few seconds to regain his breath and straighten his back before crossing his arms over his chest, his face turning into a scowl.

“Lady Maria! Just what are you doing?” The doctor looks like he’s going to blow a gasket with his red face.

“Ah, Doctor Abram.” Maria says, recognizing the doctor. She holds you a little bit tighter. “I was helping (Name) with her exercises, to help strengthen her legs.” She gives the honest truth, although you can tell she is a bit tense.

“Yes I see that.” He grumbles angrily. “But I’m asking why are you trying to leave the Hall with a patient? Have you been given permission? I doubt it. Who is her main doctor?” He harshly questions her, and you can’t help but share that tenseness Maria has.

“We were simply going to take a small walk around, we weren’t going to go far.” She sounds a bit ticked. “And I am unsure of her main caretaker.”

Doctor Abram’s brows furrow and he continues his glare. “You know the patients aren’t allowed outside, Lady Maria.”

Maria goes silent, and an uncomfortable feeling pits in your stomach as they glare at each other. Doctor Abram speaks up, sounding like he won the small argument. “Take her back up. Fail to do so and we won’t allow you back into the Research Hall.” And with that, he takes his leave, looking all too condescending.

She turns to you, looking sorry. “I am sorry, (Name) but I have to abide by the doctors orders. Would you like to take the elevators back up instead? I know you're tired.” She holds out your notepad for your answer.

Scribbling your answer on it, it reads. ‘I want to use the stairs again, please.’

Maria looks a bit unsure but relents, putting the notepad back on her belt before turning around and walking with you back to the beginning on the stairs. She takes the first step and waits for you to follow, feeling how you use her as a support. Going up the stairs is much more strenuous than going down them, that you had to admit.

You nearly stumble up a few stairs but you keep yourself mostly up right. The first flight of stairs goes by easily, and as you go up the second flight you signal you want to write, taking out your pencil. Maria holds out the notepad again and you write. ‘That doctor was terribly rude.’

“Yes I agree, Doctor Abram isn’t the most pleasant to be around.” She grimaces lightly, remembering other encounters she had with the rude doctor. “We’ve had our share of disagreements. I have a feeling he has a vendetta against me.”

As you're halfway up the stairs, you write a question. ‘Why aren’t the patients allowed outside?’

To this, Maria stays silent for a few seconds but responds. “The doctors don’t want their patients to wander off, it could be dangerous for them.”

You aren’t really satisfied with that answer but don’t pry as you continue up the stairs, a saddened look etched onto your face. You really wanted to go outside today, and now you were told that you can’t leave at all?

Maria notices your expression, and an idea pops up in her head. She stops moving and you look at her, confused. “Are you still able to walk, just for a little longer?”

You nod, wondering why she asked. She turns to go back down the stairs and to the middle base. You turn with her, following her down and she then turns to instead go for a staircase, much longer and going higher. At the top of a staircase is a large door, cracked slightly open.

Through the crack, you could clearly see the sky, becoming darker as the moon began to rise, its light peeking through. That's when you remembered, there’s a lumenflower garden on the premises that the patients are freely allowed to go to!

Maria could see the realisation dawn on you, and your saddened expression was replaced with a happy one as you tried to rush up. She easily kept up with you, noting that you're stumbling much less and are actually moving at a normal walking speed.

You both ascend up the long stairs and eventually reach the large doors which were just open enough to squeeze through. The cool breeze is the first thing that hits you, gently flying through your hair and rustling your patient's gown.

The sight of the lumenflower garden makes your jaw go slack in awe. The moon was just rising behind the garden, and in the centre of the blooming flowers stood one, tall and huge lumenflower gazing upwards and clearly healthy.

Maria steps next to you, noticing how your legs wobble the slightest bit. Perhaps you've had enough exercise for today. She starts to walk, pulling you along to a bench nearby the garden.

You can feel the exhaustion finally catch up to you as you sit down, letting out a deep breath. Maria sits next to you, sitting close to make sure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. Her hand holds yours, squeezing it gently.

The silence that follows is a comfortable one. The only sounds that come to your ears are yours and her gentle breathing, the wind blowing, the rustling of the lumenflowers, and to your surprise, the sounds of night life in Yharnam.

People talk and shout, dogs bark, wheels of carts hit the ground. The sound of life after weeks of nothing is almost overwhelming, making you take in another deep breath and let it out a few seconds later.

The stars in the setting sky twinkle and shine as the moon rises higher and higher. The wind gets a bit colder and a shiver goes through you, and you shuffle closer to Maria and rest your head on her shoulder.

Maria stiffens, turning to look at you. Your eyes are closed, and a peaceful look settles on your face. She relaxes, and her hand intertwined with yours squeezes it once more. And in response, your hand squeezes hers.

For a while, you keep your head resting on her shoulder with your eyes closed. It was all so peaceful that you could nearly fall asleep, but you didn’t want to burden Maria with possibly carrying you back to your room. So you try your hardest to stay awake.

Maybe writing to Maria will keep you awake. You take out your pencil and reach for your notepad buckled onto Maria’s belt and easily take it off. She feels the small tug and watches as you write.

‘It’s been a while since I could gaze on the stars.’ You start simple. ‘They are very beautiful tonight. I hope to see more stars in the next few nights.’

“Yes they are quite bright tonight. I heard that tonight or tomorrow, there could be a shower of shooting stars.” She adds, keeping her eyes fixed to the glowing stars above.

‘That would be something to see, falling stars.’ Your writing goes a bit off of the line, as your eyes were too busy watching the night sky. ‘I hope we can see them tonight, if not, maybe tomorrow night.’

Maria looks down from the stars and to her feet, lightly biting her lip as a wave of guilt overtakes her. She turns to you. “I forgot to tell you. But I will not be here tomorrow, nor for a few days.”

‘Why?’ You write, feeling a bit saddened.

“I will be embarking on a mission, as ordered by the church.” She looks like she wants to say more, but keeps it there.

‘To where?’

“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to say.” She looks back up at the stars and another silence settles, although this one has a tinge of tension built into it.

A streak of light quickly going across Maria’s face makes you look up, wondering where it came from. And in the darkness of night, another star falls, zooming by in a spectacular flash of light. Looks like you got lucky, and could watch the stars with Maria.

You watch for another flash of light and it only takes a second before another star streaks across the sky, then followed by another and that one was followed by another. Soon, the sky looked more like a rain of stars, shooting across the sky.

Their tails of light whizz by, and it’s a beautiful sight. It feels like all else is obsolete and nothing but you and Maria exist under the night sky. Your hand keeps a tight hold of Maria’s.

For a while, you both sit and watch the shower of stars in silence. The sounds of crickets chirping somewhere in the large lumenflower garden, the breeze of the wind, and Maria’s breathing are all that reach your ears.

“Mar..ia..”

A voice, your voice, weak and strained from underuse makes Maria snap her head to look at you, clearly surprised. Your throat is pained, but you continue speaking.

“I am… so grateful.” You take a breath. “For all th..that you’ve done.. for me.” It almost feels weird to speak and not write.

Maria is stunned into silence as you continue. “Hopefully… when I am better, we can.. still be friends, maybe?” You ask, smiling up at her.

She is silent, and for a tense moment you're afraid she’s going to say no. But being pulled into a tight hug confirms her answer, her arms wrapped around you, squeezing you.

“Yes, when you are better. We will remain friends.” Maria says, her voice a bit muffled as her face was slightly buried in your patient's gown. And luckily for her, you couldn’t see her eyes turning the slightest red and puffy.

Your hand pats her back, enjoying the hug. “I’m glad…” you wince a bit from the pain of talking, but you’ll bear it for her.

The hug feels like it’s all too short and when she pulls away, you feel your mood dampen just a bit. In the darkness of the night, it’s hard to see her face but you can make out a small smile on her lips.

The falling stars begin to slow, having gaps of time before the next one falls. Finally, the last one, with a golden tail, travels over the sky and signals the end of the beautiful show.

Holding your throat, you grimace from the burning pain of talking. Picking up your pencil, you write on your notepad. Although, writing felt much more limiting than talking now. ‘I think we should go back, it’s getting late. I don’t want the doctors to get mad at you again for keeping me out so long.’

You stand up first, your hand still holding on to hers as she gets up just seconds after you. Your legs are a little sore, but you can walk the rest of the way back, with a bit of her help of course.

You walk with Maria in silence, squeezing through the crack in the large doors. Once you squeeze in, Maria shuts the door and the sound of it closing echoes throughout the quiet Research Hall. You both cringe at the loud sound, tensing up for a moment. But when no one comes out to get mad, you both relax.

Going down the stairs, you take the lead this time. It’s much easier as you go down. Reaching the middle section, you feel a great pain in your knees and you hiss in pain. Maria comes to hold you up.

“Are you alright?” She sounds concerned.

You try to wave it off, as a way of saying you're fine but as you take a step to another upper staircase, the sharp flares again. You must’ve worn out your legs going down and now it’s just hitting you.

“Here, let me help.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, not like she needs one. Her hands come around to suddenly lift you and you gasp in surprise. Before you know it, you're being held bridal style in Maria’s arms.

You grip at her shoulders, afraid of falling for a moment before calming down. You're rather surprised that she carries you so effortlessly. Well, she is a hunter after all and they are always on their feet and moving around.

Maria begins to ascend the staircase up to the second to last floor, where your room would be. As she carries you, you avoid any eye contact, feeling a bit flustered. It feels painfully long until she reaches the top of the stairs and turns to open the door to your room.

Taking a glance around, you notice that many of your roommates haven’t come back yet, which was odd, you all had strict schedules to adhere to. Maria carries you to your cot, setting you down gently, hearing it creak as she does so.

You make yourself comfortable on your cot, feeling tired. Taking your notepad and pencil, you write to Maria. ‘Thank you, you quite surprised me by picking me up.’ You stifle a little laugh.

“My apologies, I should have told you beforehand.” She says, mentally noting it down if she’ll ever need it later. She looks around, and her eyes land on the large, standing clock.

She looks back at you, and you both know what she has to do. “I must be going now.” She feels a bit disheartened saying it. “I do promise to come back once my mission has been fulfilled.”

‘I hope it goes well.’ You write. ‘Goodnight, Maria.’

“Goodnight, I will see you in a few days or more.” She hesitates, but turns around and begins to walk away.

That's when the crushing feeling of loneliness presses down on you, and it ignites a sense of fear. Most of your roommates are gone somewhere and haven’t come back, and it’s terribly quiet. You’ve grown accustomed to the sounds of the nights, occasional sniffles and coughs or hushed talking. So the pure silence makes you uneasy.

“Wait!” Before you can stop yourself, you shout out for Maria to which she abruptly stops and turns around. Your throat stings, but you motion for her to come back as you write something.

‘I’m sorry, but could you please stay?’ You write and Maria sighs.

“If I could stay, I would do so.” She puts her hand over yours. “But direct orders from the church, I cannot put off or disobey.”

‘Then, could you just stay for a little longer? Until I fall asleep?’ You mentally cross your fingers.

Maria looks at the clock again, and hears it chime midnight. She often doesn’t get many hours of sleep, only an average of five or four hours. Maybe, sacrificing just one wouldn’t hurt.

“I will stay, but only for the hour.” She states, “or until you fall asleep.”

‘Thank you, Maria’ you write. You really didn’t want to be alone in this dark, isolated and terribly quiet room.

Maria settles herself in a chair next to your bedside and you get comfortable in your cot as a silence falls over both you and her. Even if you were originally scared of the silence, just knowing her presence was near calmed you greatly.

You stare up at the ceiling and in the corner of your eye, you see the tip of the feather from her hat occasionally jerking up. You look over to her, noticing that her chair doesn’t have a back rest. It must be uncomfortable.

Grabbing your notepad again, you flip to another page, taking note of the few pages you have left. You’ll have to ask for another soon. You write, ‘is the chair uncomfortable? You can come on the cot with me.’

Maria shakes her head. “It wouldn’t fit me, and I would not want to take your bed from you.”

‘Maria, please.’ You write, staring into her hypnotising blue eyes. ‘We will both fit. I want you to be here with me, please come up.’

Maria looks at the note and then to you, and lets out a sigh. She takes off her hat, setting it on the nightstand before she stands up and makes her way over to the opposite side of your cot. You scooch over, giving her just enough space.

She hesitantly sits down, hearing the cot groan under the added weight. It’s as if she’s afraid of possibly breaking the bed. She kicks off her boots and puts her legs up on the bed, and finally lays down beside you.

However, the cot is rather small, so she is practically snuggled up against you but you don’t mind it. Your hand comes to hold hers, feeling the familiar fabric of her gloves. It’s nearly second-nature to you now, to hold her anyway you can. And for her, to hold you anyway she can.

Before you can hold her hand, she suddenly pulls away and you're confused but it washes away as you see her pull off her gloves, putting them on the nightstand where her hat lays. She then wraps her hand around yours, intertwining her fingers with yours.

Your head comes to rest against her shoulder, and it feels like a much better pillow, even if it’s coated in harsh leather. She moves a bit closer to you, and you're pressed up against her. The warmth of her body is the replacement for your blanket, and you just want to bask in it further.

You aren’t exactly sure of what you are with Maria, it’s hard to tell. Maybe to the outside observer, it’s obvious but to you, it’s confusing. You were just her friend.. maybe.

Maria suddenly begins to shift and you lift your head from her shoulder, watching as she slides off her thick coat, taking it off and letting it fall to the ground with a thump and clatter. She lay next to you, only in her pants and undershirt.

Maria was definitely quite the beauty, it was evident the first time you met her. But seeing her now, she’s as beautiful as a carved, marble statue. She can feel your eyes on her and she locks hers onto yours.

You quickly look away, writing a quick ‘sorry.’ On your notepad with your free hand. The tension in the isolated room is getting thicker with each second, and heat blooms in your lower stomach.

A hand, gently caressing at your face makes you turn back to face her. “If you’d let me.” She brings her face a little closer, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

The choice is yours, but it doesn’t come easily to you. If you accept, you’re unsure of how far it will go and it will be your first ever time. If you reject her, how will it affect your strange relationship with her? And will the opportunity ever present itself again?

But her hands, rough from perceived years of hunting, are so gentle with your fragile skin. Her warmth and presence so comforting, taking away the fear of the world. Your skin burns with want, and you just want to breathe all of her in.

You nod, and only a fraction of a second later her soft lips are pressed against yours. She’s gentle and slow, ensuring every second of the kiss is enjoyable. She breaks apart after a few seconds, letting you catch your breath before resuming the sensual kiss.

Again, she breaks apart and instead of resuming, she lifts her undershirt off and absentmindedly throws it off onto the floor. Your eyes scan her form now, only in her bra and pants. The abs on her stomach catch your attention, and then her muscled lean arms.

So strong, yet so gentle. And like handling a porcelain doll, she wraps her strong arms around you and lifts you to sit up. You wonder what she’s doing until you feel her hands fumble with something behind your neck.

Oh, it’s the little tie for your patient's gown. She tugs on the tie, and it undoes itself as your gown goes slack. Her hands come to take the gown off of you, and put it onto the ground. She takes in the sight of you, bare underneath her except for your underwear.

Her hand trails up the side of your stomach, stopping at your chest and then going to feel at your breasts. A trail of goosebumps erupts on your skin and your breath hitches.

She moves her face down to kiss at your cheek, all while slowly groping your chest, most likely testing the waters. It's faint, but pleasure ripples up your spine, further igniting your arousal.

You reach around Maria, and feel at her bra and find its clasp, unhooking it and causing the bra to fall off her, freeing her own breasts. She continues to kiss at your cheek, before trailing down your neck.

Maria’s hand moves from your chest, to cup your opposite cheek and her breasts press against yours as she brings her warm body closer. Her legs come to straddle your waist as she stays on top of you, but making sure not to press too much of her weight on you.

Her kisses pepper your neck, and heat rushes to your face. Your hands trail up her back, feeling her muscles beneath your fingers and they eventually reach her hair, digging in. Her hair is so soft, that it allows your fingers to easily glide through and undo her ponytail.

You take a breath, speaking softly to not hurt your throat. “Maria, please.. kiss me again.” You beg, and she places one last kiss on your neck before turning to meet her lips with yours. Your hands stay tangled in her hair, nearly pulling on it with want.

It appears she rather likes it as she deepens the kiss, and moves one of her hands to trail down your stomach and eventually reach your thighs. You shiver, feeling her hand slip under your panties and tease at your pussy.

When her finger grazes up between the folds, you unintentionally let out a moan and open your mouth. She takes the opportunity and takes the kiss further, her tongue exploring your mouth. You simply need even more, and she knows it.

Everything she does, still holds that careful gentleness as she slowly inserts her finger inside your pussy. She brings her head back, separating from the kiss as a string of saliva connects between your lips and hers. Her eyes stare into yours, with what you could describe as a loving gaze.

She pushes her finger further in, and you shiver but she stops. “Are you alright to continue?” She asks, her voice low and with the slightest husk. When you nod, she slowly inserts a second finger.

You take a hitch of breath and cover your mouth, not wanting to be loud just in case someone is passing by the room. It feels strange, but so good. Her fingers feel around, slowly pushing themselves further until the knuckle and staying still, waiting for you to adjust.

You practically burn like a fire with want and Maria can tell as she slowly moves her fingers in and out. Your muscles tense with pleasure and another wave of goosebumps crawl up your back. You're quickly becoming greatly wet, allowing her fingers to move smoothly.

Maria comes down again, kissing your cheek as she continues slowly moving her fingers, curling them up when she goes out. Another kiss on your cheek feels so good, and you can hear her warm breath against the side of your face.

Your hands still explore her silky hair, feeling how a few strands tickle the sides of your face. Maria presses further onto you, and you gladly welcome her. A fleeting feeling of a knot tying in your lower stomach makes itself known to you.

Maria continues her slow pace, only curling and pressing the slightest bit harder on your g-spot. Her free hand comes down to press on your lower stomach, only further intensifying the knot and you nearly cry out.

She kisses you again, and the knot unravels itself. Your muscles tense up and you cry into the kiss, feeling yourself orgasm over her fingers. It feels so good, but it feels even better as Maria breaks away from the kiss and goes to whisper in your ear.

“Would you want to go for another?” She whispers.

“Please.” Is all you say, and all she needs to hear. She pulls away completely, and you can see her form through the moonlight that spills into the room. Her muscled body has faint scars peppering her skin. From numerous hunts no doubt.

You watch as she uses her hands to unbuckle her belt and slide off her pants, kicking them off to the ground to join the pile. She then pulls down her panties, and lets them also join the pile of clothes on the ground.

She’s so beautiful, and you subconsciously hope for more views like this in your future. And you hope to feel her love further, once you are better. Her hands come to hold your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

She trails her hands up and down your thighs while she positions herself, and finally pressing her pussy against yours. She lets out a hefty breath, relishing in the feeling as she sees you squirm underneath her.

Maria bends her front body to squish against yours again, her arms wrapping around you and her breasts pushed up with yours. Her hands adjust your legs and you get the memo, wrapping them around her waist.

It’s much easier to grind against you this way and she begins to do so. Her own wetness combined with yours makes it even more easy as she grinds, feeling her clit rubbing against yours. She breathes heavily, letting the pleasure sink into her body.

You pull her the slightest bit closer with your legs, and enjoy it as she moves back and forth. Moans escape from your mouth no matter how much you try to hold them. But Maria has a solution as she kisses you again.

You immediately open your mouth, letting her delve further into the kiss. Her body continues to grind against yours, every thrust forward bringing bliss and pushing you further into your second orgasm.

It’s getting hot and flashes of sweat coat your body and hers, giving the slightest hint of shine on her skin in the moonlight. The combined wetness of you and Maria makes warm juices fall down your thigh, further adding to the heat.

Her clit slides against yours again and she moans in delight, focusing on sliding against it again. With how sensitive you are from your previous orgasm, you can’t help but squirm and cry out in pleasure. To hell with it, who cares if anyone hears you two?

Your muscles begin to tighten and that similar feeling builds again, as you try to pull her even closer with your legs even if she’s as close as she can get. She captures your mouth again in a heated sloppy kiss.

Saliva drips down your mouth and onto your chin due to the greedy, lustful kiss but you don’t care. Maria seems to be approaching her own high as she grinds faster, her chest heaving with exhausted and heavy breaths.

Tears brim in your eyes from the stimulation, unable to keep them in as they fall down your cheek. Maria wastes no time in wiping them away, and moving to kiss your cheek. Your mind and hers have already drowned out the rest of the world, and only you and her exist in the tender moment.

Maria comes back up, arching her back as she grinds a few more times and finally climaxes and you follow suit. She moans out in delight and you can only muster a soft, exhausted cry as your body shakes.

She keeps pressed against you, feeling the high of the climax slowly wearing off and her mind returning to its level-headedness. She gently untangles herself from your legs and stands up on her own wobbly, and tired legs.

Maria looks you over, seeing how your chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to regain stamina. “Oh, I must’ve been too hard.” She mutters, cupping your cheek with her hand.

You turn your head to look at her, your eyes half lidded and struggling to stay open. Maria smiles gently, “you need your rest.” But you hesitate on sleeping, knowing when you wake she won’t be there and will be gone for a bit.

Maria can see your hesitation. “Don’t worry, I promise to be back. It will only be a handful of days.” She leans over to kiss you on the forehead. “But I will come back.”

The exhaustion is hard to fight against, and your weak body already struggles with nearly everything so it’s not long before you finally let your eyes close and your head rest against your pillow. The worries of the next few days melt away in your dreamless slumber.

Maria watches your sleeping form before she covers you with your blanket, ensuring your warm. She then takes her clothes from the discarded pile on the floor and redresses herself, being careful not to wake you with the noise.

She pushes the curtains surrounding your bed open just enough so she can step out, and she takes one last look at you before closing the curtains completely and walking to the door of the room.

In her mind, she hopes her mission won’t be too long, she’d hate to break her promise.

When Maria opens the large, creaking doors to the Research Hall, she’s greeted with pure silence. No sounds of distance chatter, doors opening or closing, wheels rolling over wood. Just pure, uninterrupted silence.

But maybe that’s better for her, it’s better than the haml- she recoils at the thought, feeling terribly sick in her stomach. Or maybe, she’s terribly sick in the head… but she knows one thing, she’s a terrible person.

Her footsteps echo in the huge building, the sound being the only thing to pierce the thick silence. Her feet drag on the floor, and her back is stiff. It’s hard to feel, it’s hard to think. She adjusts her gloves, not daring to look at the bloodstains coated on them.

Her eyes are wide, and staring into nothing as she slowly walks around the building and before she knows it, she’s at the twisting stairs. She begins to ascend the first flight, each step adding a weight of guilt on her back.

Oh, what has she done? She’s a horrible person, no, she’s more of a beast hiding in a human's skin. Her beloved rakuyo is long gone, the blade that she cannot bear any longer. She feels like she’s going to throw up.

The stairs creak under her weight, but she keeps going. It was orders, orders from the church, she had to do it. She couldn’t disobey, could she? Maybe she should’ve stopped after the first villager perished, and refused to go any further.

But no, like an idiot, she went further and became a blood-thirsty murderer. And worst of all, she dare mutilate the washed up body. Thinking of it is painful, and she clutches her head, trying desperately to block it out.

She reaches the centre, where all the stairs connected. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but her feet take her to where she subconsciously wants to go. She starts to climb another flight of stairs, the stairs to the second highest floor of the hall.

Will you ever look at her the same again? She doubts it. She’s a beast now, who doesn’t deserve to bask in a lover's presence. She fears she might hurt you, but she can’t stop herself from going back to you.

She reaches the floor she wants to be on, and it’s still so horribly quiet. She walks slowly to the room she’s come to be so familiar with and turns the knob, pushing the door open. It creaks as it opens fully, but nothing inside the room reacts. Usually, she’d see you poke your head out of your curtains to see who’s coming in.

However, there’s no movement at all in the room. In a haze, she begins to move in and passes by multiple beds, clearly unoccupied for days on end. They are left in a tattered state, as if the patient left suddenly and no one bothered to fix the sheets or move personal belongings.

The curtains around your bed are closed, and she reaches to peek inside. Your bed is empty. But she hardly reacts, too jaded to let the panic rise in her. She pulls back the curtains and goes to your beside, just staring at the empty and cold bed.

For a long, painful moment, she just stares. She can’t feel anything, but she knows emotions are trying to dig themselves in as she feels them fleeting. But she doesn’t want to feel, not right now.

Something on your nightstand catches her attention, and she looks over. It’s your notepad, your pencil laid beside it. How odd, you wouldn’t leave it, it’s your only form of communication without pain or struggle.

She moves to look at it, grabbing it and lifting to read it. It’s on the very last page.

‘Hello, Doctor Abram.’

‘Surgery? But I thought I didn’t need any.’

‘I don’t know Doctor, maybe I should just wait to heal naturally. The other doctors say that I’m on course to be okay.’

‘I’m not arguing with you doctor, surgery just sounds so sudden.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as rude.’

‘When will it be?’

‘Today? But shouldn’t I have fasted-‘

‘Sorry.’

‘Yes I’ll stop arguing.’

‘Were going now?’

‘Wait, but where’s Maria? She said she’d be back in a few days.’

‘Can’t we wait a while longer, I want to see her.’

‘Please.’

‘Please.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Okay, I’ll be ready in a few minutes.’

The note ends there. She can only guess what the doctor said, and the flicker of fury eats at her heart. She sets down the notepad, staring at it and re-reading each line that you wrote. It still holds that haste you always wrote with.

Turning around, she pushes through the curtains. If she knows something, the evidence of where you could be would be in the surgery rooms. She feels dread well in her very soul as she exits the room.

She walks across a few doors, but her head remains low, staring at her feet as they walk. Then they stop, and she knows she’s where she wants to be. She looks up, seeing the engraving of ‘surgery 5’ on a plaque.

… she doesn’t know if she wants to enter, and possibly learn a truth she dreads, or leave it and live in falsehood. But her hands turn the knob, and push open the door.

The room is like any surgery room, a metal surgery table in the middle with straps on it. Trays on carts, littered with bloodied medical tools lay scattered about. A few footprints on the floor remain, showing the last movements of doctors walking around.

The table is bloody, and the straps were clearly struggled against. She doesn’t want to learn the truth, but her body will betray her mind as a file sits on a desk. Her feet take her to look and read the file.

‘Patient name: (Name).’
‘Submitted for: Unknown debilitating disease, confirmed to be non-contagious.’
‘Known family: none presiding in Yharnam.’
‘Patient was transferred from Yharnams general hospital to the Research Hall under the premise of better treatment and direct order of the church. Patient has been kept for up to two and a half months, as they research the disease.’
‘Patient will be used for experiments in an attempt to commune with the great ones. More time is needed to understand the patient's condition, and if it will aid the transformative surgery.’

The page ends there and she flips it to read further, already feeling sick to her stomach.

‘Patient has been improving health wise, and is showing more energy. She has taken a liken to Lady Maria. Talk is to separate them as soon as possible, although this is debated.’
‘Patient has been scheduled for surgery within the week, do not let the patient receive any more treatment.’

She flips it one last time, reading the date in silent horror. It’s the day after she left.

‘Patient did not survive the transformative surgery, and is deemed a failure. Body has been disposed of.’
‘Note: patient bled a profuse amount, blood was oddly pale and collected in multiple viles. Viles have been sent for safe-keeping.’

‘Additional note from Dr. Abram: The patient will not be reported as a missing person. As far as anyone knows, they are a foreigner who left Yharnam. Note inside the note, when Lady Maria returns, do not let her in the patient's room. Infact, bar her from entering the Research Hall altogether.’

Maria stares at the note, re-reading the first line over and over again. It’s not true, it can’t be true. But the evidence stares her in the face. The blood coating the surgery table, the highly stained tools, and the clear marks of a struggle on the leather straps.

You suffered, and was dealt a painful death.

And she wasn’t there for you, she’s broken her promise, and it cost you your life. And for the first time in countless hours, an emotion breaks through the grey slate that she was. It is regret, in its ugliest form.

She doesn’t even know she’s crying until the soft ‘plop’ of her tears hit the ground. Her throat feels like it’s being torn to shreds, and her heart aches horribly. She drops the papers to the ground, and they land in dried puddles of blood.

Turning around, she exits the room, tears still falling from her eyes. She made no sound, no hiccup or cry of despair, just pure silence. She knows what she must do now, and that it’s the only thing she deserves.

Her feet take her to the highest point, passing by the lumenflower garden which has already begun to wilt and die. But she dares not look at it, not wanting to remember anything.

She feels her wrists, and pinpoints where the blood flows. She feels her neck, and finds an artery. The doors to the clock tower are pushed open, and she steps inside. The only blade on her is a small knife.

But it will do the job. She deserves this.

Chapter Text

Content: Face sitting. Bearer doesn’t speak. I haven’t played DS2 so it might be inaccurate at times.(Trust I want to get through it though, I already bought it a while ago…). Size difference. The Bearer is big and clumsy lol. Bearer gets off on you getting off. Bearer and Hunter could be friends, thigh guys stay together.

Your feet scrape along the ground as you flee, kicking up dirt and debris.You nearly trip over your own feet,or roll your ankle. But the adrenaline keeps you from slowing down even the slightest. The shattering of a pot behind you makes your heart jump. You can feel the fwoosh of heat and flame on your back, a few shards of the flamepot flying past you. Coming here was a mistake.

It was only the beginning of your journey, but maybe you should’ve never even started it. The Forest of Fallen Giants was supposed to be simple, you were sure of it. You could have simply snuck around, and slunk by any enemies, but you were seen. At first, your minimal training in combat was enough to deal with the simple hollows here and there. But you got cocky, and you paid the price for that.

Your dagger was quickly lost and you were becoming overwhelmed, so you fled. Unfortunately for you, they had firebombs and were currently hauling them at you with all their hollow strength, (which wasn’t much) as they shambled after you. You can hear their grunts and growls from their rotten throats behind you.

Luck isn’t on your side it seems. Your heart jumps as your body is suddenly forced to stop. Or more accurately, was thrown to the ground. “Augh!” You yelp in pain and surprise as your body slams to the ground, your teeth clacking together painfully. Your foot had gotten lodged in a raised root and is now stuck.

“No, no, no!” You stammer, arching your head back to see your caught foot. It’s stuck in the root pretty good and as you tug, it doesn’t budge. The hollows, as slow as they are, start to catch up with your caught form. It feels almost pathetic really. You just started, now you’ll be a corpse for some other person to come along and pillage whatever remains of you. You really would’ve preferred a more noble death than being stabbed or clawed to death by brainless hollows.

The root holds your foot down with great strength, even as you struggle and pull. It almost feels like you’ll break it. “Go away!” You raise your voice as the hollows begin to close in. It’s more of a knee jerk reaction to yell and scream at something that doesn’t understand you. 

The hollows shamble even closer, and closer. Just as one of them raises their shattered, rust eaten dagger, there’s a strange noise.

Clink, clink, clink, clink. CLANK. CLANK.

It only gets louder as whatever is making it sounds extremely heavy. The hollows seem to hear it too, as they pause for just a second. Another noise, what sounds like a sword unsheathing reaches your ears. It takes only a second before something jumps over you, something huge and heavy as it lands with a slam.

You flinch, shielding your face as you tense up. The sounds of a fight make you open your eyes, and finally see the scene happening in front of you

A man, well, quite the giant of a man.Covered head to toe in armour, wielding a giant sword as he swings it and cuts one of the hollows clean in half. The two others barely have time to raise their own pitiful weapons before the huge man is on them, taking just two swings before they are dispatched and crumple to the ground.

The man’s shoulders raise and fall, and you can hear deep huffs of breath. He just stands there for a good second, before slowly turning his helmeted head. You can’t see anything through the slits of his helmet, the shadows hiding his face. He turns the rest of his body towards you, and you feel a pang of fear.

Then he starts to lumber towards you, his hand clenching hard down onto his sword.

“Hey! Hey! Wait! I'm not a hollow! I’m not a threat!” You yell, putting out your hands to show your surrender and to show you were weaponless. You try to scramble away, but your stuck foot keeps you trapped. The huge man simply continues to get closer, and he eventually is looming over you. His shadow envelopes you as he lifts up his huge sword.

Great, you were ‘rescued’ just to be murdered by this psychopath shortly after. You gasp and get ready for the embrace of death as he brings down his sword and!-

Thunk.

Pressure is relieved from your foot suddenly. His sword dug into the thick root, severing it clean in half. The blade dangerously close to your once trapped foot. You lay there, stunned for a second. The man picks up his sword with some effort to get it out of the ground it dug into, bits of grass flying upwards. 

The man looks down at you, just looming over your stunned form for a good moment. He then turns, already starting to stalk off, sheathing his massive weapon.

You lay there, and blink once, then twice. Reason then comes back to you as you get up, shaking your foot free of debris. You watch the retreating mammoth of a man, and your legs act before your mind does.

“Hey…Hey wait!” You shout out as you jog towards him, but make sure to keep a respectable distance. You don’t know what he can do, and it always pays to be cautious in these lands. The man stops in his tracks, looking back at you.

You stammer before speaking again. “I-I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there. I thought I was done for.” You say, but get no answer. You nervously smile, “not a talker?” You’ve met some silent people before, so it's not too much of a surprise when the man nods. 

“Oh, alright.That’s fine.” You clear your throat. Your hands nervously bat around your waist, where your belt is snug. But it's missing its most important component; a weapon. An idea pops into your head. Hey, this guy looks pretty strong and has a weapon of his own. And strength in numbers, is what they say.

He starts to walk off again, but you quickly follow him. “Wait, wait. I was actually wondering if I could come with you?” You ask, walking at his side. You have to speed walk just the slightest to keep up with his long strides.

The man doesn’t stop, his helmet only tilting to look at you before looking back at the path ahead. You don’t know how to take that as an answer. “I won’t be deadweight.” You add, wondering if he isn’t dignifying a nod or shake of his head because he thinks you’ll be so.

His foot crunches under dead leaves, and once again, no answer either verbally or physically. But he isn’t showing any aggression, which is good. Nor is he trying to shoo you away as you walk beside him. “So, I’ll take that as a yes?” You question. Well, since he isn’t doing anything to warrant you to leave him alone, you keep following. He can act as your meat shield while you get back on your feet. This plan should work perfectly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

So far, the plan IS working just as planned.

You’ve been travelling with the huge man for a good three-ish weeks now. You’ve come to call him Bearer. It isn’t his real name of course, he never talked, not a peep, whenever he was with you. He didn’t write anything really, he just used his hands and motions. It felt like you were playing charades sometimes.

During that time, you both got decently far. Although, not without attracting the attention of a particularly persistent pursuer that always seemed to trail you and him. The first time you encountered the Pursuer was shortly after teaming up with him. He dealt with it, and sent the heavily armoured Pursuer fleeing off somewhere.

The plan for strength in numbers was probably the best thing you did. You’re sure if you didn’t team up with him, you’d have died only a few days in. You’ve been going through weapons. Daggers, bows, hammers, and swords. But since you weren’t trained with any weapons, you were quite awful at it.

Now, you’re trying out a new sword that you’ve scrounged up from your latest exhibition with him. The crackling of the fire you set up paints the surrounding area with jumping warm orange light. Pleasant heat coats your skin as you practice swinging the sword. It thunks onto the ground, not landing where you wanted it to.

Across the fire, sits Bearer. He sits relaxed, his sword lying on the ground. You think he’s watching you practice, but you aren’t sure. You can’t see his eyes because of his weirdly dark helmet, but you feel like you can feel his sight on you.

“Ugh.” You scoff to yourself, lifting the sword back up and looking down at the mark in the dirt. You missed your imaginary target. It feels like you’re just swinging some weight around, but isn’t that how it's supposed to be? You mutter some curses under your breath, frustrated with how hard it is to simply learn a weapon.

As you lift up the sword again, your wrist aches just the slightest. Unbeknownst to you, you were holding it wrong. In the corner of your eye, you see that Bearer has turned to fully watch you. You wouldn’t lie, it flusters you a bit. You can never tell what he’s thinking. 

You swing down the sword again, but you wobble and the sword loses the needed momentum and just bounces off the ground. There’s a strange clanking noise, and you turn your head to look at Bearer. Whose shoulders are shaking, moving up and down in short bursts. 

“Are you laughing at me?” You say, feeling embarrassed. The only answer you get is the increasing shaking of his shoulders. The first sound you ever heard from him is the sputtering deep, held back laughter. “It’s not funny.” You say, your brows knitting together flustered and angry.

Heat dances across your cheeks. The only time he’s ever made a noise, and it's to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, trying to get your mind off of it to continue practising. Another pathetic swing, another round of restrained laughter from him.

“Well if you're so good at it, how about you help?” You snip at him, putting your hands on your hips. “Instead of sitting there. I’m not some circus act for you.”

The Bearer laughs for just a bit longer before reaching under his helmet, as if he's wiping a tear away. A clink of his armour and he’s moving, getting up. He moves across the fire to come to your side, it looks like he’s actually taken your request seriously. 

“Actually, I can do it myself.” You say quickly, the heat on your cheeks worsening with how close he is. You hold the sword again, still incorrectly, and bring it back. He still hasn’t moved, and has instead crossed his large arms over his chest. You swear you can just tell that he has his eyebrow raised, inwardly saying ‘really?’

“Can you move? I don’t want to hit you by accident.” You try to shoo him away, at least a foot or two. But he stays put. He then shakes his head, sighing. Before you can react, he moves behind you. His hands reach out for yours, engulfing them into his own. His hands are huge compared to yours, and his biceps wrap around your shoulders. You can tell he’s quite muscular, feeling his muscles tense and moving.

“Uh..” You don’t know what to say. But his fingers dig between yours, spreading your own fingers to move them around with gentle nudges. “Oh..Thanks.” You swallow down a nervous lump in your throat. When he finishes putting your fingers where they should be, it feels like you have a better grip on the sword all together. Plus, your wrist isn’t hurting.

“Okay, I get it now. You proved your point, I’m doing it wrong.” You just want him to move away, you feel like your skin is heating up. “I’ll be sure to reme-” You're cut off as you suddenly feel yourself being lifted. You gasp in surprise, your feet leaving the ground. 

The Bearer decided you needed more help, and took it into his own hands. But he didn’t exactly account for the height and strength difference. He had brought his hands back, intending to help you with your posture and stance when getting ready to swing. However now, he’s basically holding you up. Your back pressed against his armoured chest, feet dangling.

He just keeps you lifted up for a few seconds, before he suddenly drops you. You stumble, nearly falling over. The Bearer reaches out for your flailing arm, attempting to keep you from falling over. His hand grasps your wrist, and instead of helping you stay upright, he follows you right onto the ground.

A great weight presses onto you, and you wheeze out. He didn’t exactly land on the ground, but directly onto you. “Get..” You wheeze, “Get off!” You squirm underneath him, feeling the air being pressed out of your lungs. Once he realizes what has happened, he scrambles to get off of you.

You breathe in, feeling air rush back into your lungs as you sit up. Wow he was heavy. Getting back up, you dust off some dirt and grassblades. The Bearer fidgets with his hands, and you can tell he’s embarrassed. You grab the sword you dropped, moving your fingers to where he placed them before.

You purse your lips before sighing. “Can you help me swing properly? Without crushing me?” You smile, laughing inwardly at your own little quip. The Bearer pauses, before nodding as he instead moves to your side.

His hands come around yours again, gentler this time. He makes sure to be mindful of the differences in stature as he moves your arms, guiding them back into the correct posture to strike. He steps back, as if he’s a sculptor looking over his statue, before he comes back and adjusts a few little things.

His leg comes between yours, scooting your legs to stand a bit wider to have better balance. You flinch a bit, the heat on your skin feeling unbearable. It feels weird to admit to yourself, but you’ve been finding that you fancy him. You aren’t exactly sure why. It’s not like you can see what he looks like. Well most of him, you definitely like his size and build. But the rest of him? A total mystery.

He nods his head and steps back. It looks like he got’s you in the perfect position to strike. It actually feels easier to stand and hold your weapon this way. He then motions for you to look at him. He brings his arms back, mimicking your position before he brings an imaginary sword down. You quickly realize he’s trying to show you how to strike.

You then look forward, your hands gripping the sword's handle. You imagine a target sitting directly on the ground. With some effort, you heave the sword forward and it hits the bullseye of your target. You gasp in surprise, before you break out into a smile. You look at The Bearer with a grin, forgetting your previous anger at him laughing at you.

The Bearer claps his gauntlets together a few times before he gives you two thumbs up. He then seems to get an idea as he walks over to where his large sword lies in the grass, picking it up before walking back over to you.

“Huh? Oh you want me to try that- one!” He doesn’t wait for you to prepare for its weight as he drops it into your awaiting hands. Your back bends as your legs shake, struggling to hold the huge and heavy sword. The Bearer jumps and quickly takes it back, holding it effortlessly.

“Uh, okay maybe I should stick to smaller swords.” You nervously laugh. It looks like he got too excited and forgot your limitations. “Thanks for the offer though.” You say. Maybe you’ll be able to lift his sword later, when you’ve gotten more strength. You yawn, feeling tired. The moon has risen to its highest already.

Huh, have you really been training that long? You could’ve sworn the moon was just rising. But you suppose having some fun really speeds up the time. “Well, I think that's enough for tonight.” You say, looking at The Bearer. “Thanks for the help. I think I’ll head to bed now, you don’t mind keeping watch for tonight would you?”

You and him had silently agreed to be each other's sentries at night, alerting one another if something dangerous is coming or needs attention. Normally, it would switch between you and him throughout the night. But you were dead tired, and just wanted to sleep through the night.

The Bearer nods, it doesn’t seem to bother him. You smile, “thanks. I’ll keep watch all night after this.” With that, you put your sword down and sit down on the soft grass. Laying on your side, you try to get comfortable. But sleeping on the hard ground is not at all comfortable. Well, you’ve slept on hard stone, you can sleep on grass.

Slowly, your eyes start to droop. You yawn one more time before you finally let the blissful nothingness of sleep claim you, your heavy eyes closing and breathing slowing.

Unbeknownst to you, you have a little observer. Well, not so little. The Bearer finds himself staring at your sleeping form, curled up on the ground to get as much warmth as possible. The fire was decently warm, but cold breezes still bite through its heat. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you in a good minute, but he made sure to keep an ear out for any danger.

You were strange to him. But in a good way. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think of you, but you were bearable to have around. Decently self-aware, although he did have to grab you by the scruff a few times to keep you from wandering off a cliff. Mostly competent he supposes, and it was quite funny watching you stumble with all of your weapons.

Not to mention, his particularly favourite part about you were your legs. Your thighs specifically. Now he wasn’t the type of man to look at every woman for just her body and such, but for some reason he just can’t keep his eyes off of your thighs. It started about two weeks ago, when his eyes found their interest.

Now he was a big guy, he knew that. Countless times he hit his head on doorways with an audible clang of his helmet. Had to hunch over in certain rooms or just barely squeeze through cracks and crevices others could easily slide through. He could easily hurt others by accident. 

He’s thought of it before, how his size could hurt any intimate partners. But a new idea has been brewing in his mind. What if he wasn’t on top? He likes it of course, having full control. But he also enjoys his own partner's pleasure, it's actually what gets him off the most. He had been alone for so long, that he feels like he’s getting desperate.

He can’t just motion what he wants, he’s sure you’d reject the idea. His breath hitches as he feels himself harden at the new thought. What if you sat on his face? He’d have to remove his helmet of course, but you wouldn’t be able to see his face while you're on top of him, so that’s actually not a bad idea. Not to mention, your thighs would be around his head and maybe squeeze it whenever he gets his tongue to the right places.

You suddenly shiver as a cold breeze runs through the area, nearly putting out the fire. The Bearer’s mind snaps out of its imagination. He stands, tensing a bit with how sensitive he’s getting. He has to get his mind out of the gutter, it’s not going to happen after all.

His hand reaches for the furs on his shoulders. Undoing a few latches to let it fall from his armor. It wasn’t super long, it wasn’t a cape. It was just a sort-of boa. He thought it looked cool so he kept it, but he doesn’t really need it. However, as you shiver again, he knows who does need it for now.

Making sure his footfalls aren’t too loud to disturb your sleep, he crouches down next to your shivering form and throws the furs over you. He adjusts it to get as much as your body under the furs. Slowly, your shivers start to slow before they eventually stop. He watches for a good minute longer, making sure you're warm and comfortable.

Once he’s sure you're fine, he stands back up. He turns his back, keeping watch all throughout the night.

<hr>

The next day was supposed to be an easy one. You and him were supposed to make your way through the next area with little danger. Mostly hollows and the one off stronger enemies. But your most persistent enemy is back. The iron clad Pursuer.

The flaps of a large bird's wings is the first thing that warns both you and him of the Pursuers presence. The slam of his landing is the second. Whipping around, you see that glint of red in between the slit of his helmet and dread pools in your stomach. “Bearer, there!” You say, pointing to the Pursuer as The Bearer turns at your warning.

His hand grips harshly onto the handle of his large sword. His posture gets stiff as he prepares for a fight. You decide to copy it, getting ready to fight as well as you take out your own sword. You haven’t fought the Pursuer, more just had to stand at the side lines so he could deal with him. But now, mostly knowing how to swing properly, you want to try getting rid of this persistent pest.

The Bearer snaps his head to you, and you could swear he made a confused face beneath his helmet. You look at him, “I want to help, we can’t get chased after forever.” You explain yourself, “now cmon, I’m ready.” You square your shoulders, ready to fight.

“Wh- Hey!” You shout out as you feel his strong hand grab your scruff, making sure not to hurt you as he lifts you from the ground. “Put me down! I’m trying to help!” You try to get out of grip, but he’s strong. Almost like putting a misbehaving animal in its place, he takes a few steps and puts you in a corner.

You open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your mouth. You can’t believe this. Your brow raises and you look at him, utterly confused. You’ve already shown yourself capable, why is he putting you off now? “You can’t be serious.” You deadpan, “I’m not fully defenceless, I know how to fight back. Now let me go and we can get rid of him.”

But The Bearer doesn’t relent, he shakes his head ‘no.’ You scoff and roll your eyes. “Well too bad, I’m helping.” You’re too stubborn to just give up. You try to move around him, but a strong hand on your shoulder just drags you back to the corner. “Stop it.” You hiss, trying again but once more, being brought back.

“Oh would you just let up!? I don’t want to be a deadweight in every big fight, so just let me help and i’ll be off your ba-”

The Bearer is suddenly knocked harshly into a wall with an audible crumble of old stone. You gasp as you realize what’s happened. Right in front of you, floats the Pursuer. You can see every detail of his armour now with how close he is. You freeze up as the Pursuer's head slowly turns to face you.

It’s a lot more terrifying than you realize. You hardly roll out of the way as the Pursuers sword comes down at you, just barely grazing your skin. “Bearer!” You call out, trying to get to him. He’s lying motionless against the wall, most likely knocked out. But you can’t get too far as the Pursuers sword blocks your way.

The only way out is to fight. Tensing up, you give the Pursuer all of your attention and prepare to dodge. His sword comes down again, and you manage to roll out of the way. Taking out your own sword, you bring it down at his chest and it clangs against his armour. Damn, looks like this’ll be harder than you thought.

The Pursuer barely looks phased. He lifts his shield and attempts to bring it down hard onto you, and he successfully manages to do so. You wheeze in pain as the heavy shield feels like it's breaking your back, but adrenaline floods through you as you quickly get up, dodging two swings of his sword as you do so.

You need to put distance between you and him. Through shaking legs, you back peddle and manage to get a good bit away. The Pursuer starts to circle, and you tense and wait for any attack. Every slightest movement from him makes you jump. Your heart beats against your chest. But a new movement catches your eye. It's The Bearer, he’s moving again. His movements are sluggish, and your suspicions were confirmed. He had been knocked out from that brutal hit.

It looks like you weren’t the only one who noticed that The Bearer is moving. The Pursuer twists to look at the sluggish Bearer, whose large sword was lying feet away. The Pursuer then turns his attention to The Bearer and slowly starts to float toward him, and your heart drops.

Immediately your feet are moving as you shout out, “Bearer! Move!” Your warning doesn’t do much though, as The Bearer can only weakly push himself away just a few inches. He has no weapon, and is hurt and dazed. The Pursuer only gets closer to the injured Bearer, already raising his weapon.

How can you help!? You wouldn’t have any time to drag The Bearer away from the Pursuer’s attack, and possibly get yourself sliced in two in the process. Your own weapon can’t pierce the Pursuer’s strong armour. Your own weapon…Your own weapon. His weapon! The Bearers weapon!

Your eyes find the glint of silver lying on the floor, the large and heavy sword forgotten. That must be able to pierce the Pursuer’s armour. If it doesn’t, you don’t know what will. Adrenaline leads your legs to a full on sprint, one faster than you realize you can even go. In seconds, you reach the heavy sword.

With strength you didn’t know you had, you grip harshly onto the heavy sword handle as you lift it up. Your legs buckle at the weight, but you manage to keep yourself up. The Pursuer has reached The Bearer, and his massive blade is lifted high, aiming to finish him off in one foul slice.

Your breath comes in short, terrified and struggling breaths as you run as fast as you can with the heavy sword against your shoulder. “Hey!” You shout out to the Pursuer, “Behind you!” The Pursuer stops in his tracks, and he barely has time to even react as you rear the sword back and plunge it into his armour.

The sword, paired with your terrified strength, cuts through the Pursuer’s armor like paper, bending inwards. The disgusting squelch of flesh being cut through makes you wince. A roar of pain erupts from the Pursuer, his hand dropping his sword onto the ground. You grit your teeth and continue driving The Bearers sword into the Pursuers back, hearing bones crunch and flesh tear.

The handle is nearly touching the Pursuer’s armour with how far you’ve driven the blade in. The tip shimmers with blood as it drips down onto the ground. Everything is silent and still for a tense moment, before the Pursuer’s once tense posture slowly slumps before he goes limp entirely.

His body starts to disintegrate, turning into dust that flies away into the wind. The sword that was driven into him, clatters onto the ground, still covered in fresh blood that now stains the blade. You breathe heavily, before bending down to pick up the sword. Some left over adrenaline allows you to pick it up.

You start to feel the pain from the Pursuer’s shield slam, and you clench your teeth. But you manage to limp towards the Bearer, the sword dragging behind you. “Are you alright?” You say through grit teeth, “Here, let me help.” You grab his arm to throw it around your shoulder as you help him stand.

He leans onto you, his free hand clutching his helmet where his forehead would be. He must have a headache. You stumble a bit, the weight of the sword and him is almost too much to bear but you just barely keep standing. “We need to get somewhere safe.” You already know where you want to go. You and him had stopped at a hidden little crevice earlier today, just to stock up on some healing products and sharpen your blades.

“Come on, we’ll rest for a bit. At least until you're better. Just hold onto me.” You start to lead him towards the safe space. It takes way longer than you wanted it to, but luckily for both of you, no enemies have spotted either of you or knew to stay away. A relieved sigh wracks your tired form as you see the crevice.

Angling yourself and him, you start to squeeze in. “Tuck your gut in.” You say as you struggle to the hurt Bearer in, and you have to tug him a bit harder than you want to. But he gets through with some help from you. You crouch down, slowly setting him down. You hear a deep groan come from him, and his hand clutches where his forehead would be again.

You bite on your lower lip, feeling guilty. Oh dear, if only you didn’t distract him with your stubborn self wanting to help fight. But again, only if he let you help him. You did sort of kill the Pursuer just a minute ago with strength you didn't know you had. Maybe it was sort of both your faults. He doubted you, you were too stubborn, and now both of you are banged up.

“I’ll…let you rest for a bit.” You say, moving to sit across from him. You wince from the blooming bruise on your back. You’ll need to be careful with that. Unfortunately, you’ll just need to wait for the bruise to heal itself and deal with the pain for most likely a good week. You aren’t sure about The Bearer though, he hit that wall pretty damn hard.

He just lays there, his hand soothing his agonizing head. Maybe he has a concussion or something. You hope not, you won’t know how to help him there. But maybe just waiting around will let him get better. So, while you wait, you make yourself useful. Tearing off some of your own cloth, you wrap it up into a crude imitation of a pillow.

Going over to The Bearer, you silently and gently lift his head to slide the ‘pillow’ under his head. You swear you can hear a sigh of relief come from him. The least you can do is make him comfortable. You wish you had a blanket, but you’d have to basically rip up your clothes to do that and you’d prefer not to be naked.

For a while, you just sit and either sharpen yours and his weapons, adjust rations and medicines in both bags. It’s reaching dusk before The Bearer finally comes out of his daze, well most of it. His head slowly turns to look at you, and you notice.

“Oh, feeling better?” You ask, moving closer to him. “I hope it’s nothing serious, I don’t think I would be able to help you with anything worse than a headache or bruise.” You chuckle at your own joke. The Bearer just nods. You aren’t sure what he’s nodding about. Probably just saying he’s alright.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, “food? Pillow adjustment?” You list off a few things you can do for him. Unknown to you however, he knows exactly how you can help him. The hit had him terribly dazed, and his sense of judgement is still a bit hazy. However, he knows what he wants.

He points to you, then to his helmeted face. You tilt your head, raising your brow. “Huh?” You aren’t sure what he wants. You, his face. You, his face. He just keeps repeating the gesture for a good minute. “Me, and your face? What about your face? Does it hurt?” You ask but he shakes his head ‘no.’

You feel like you're playing charades, trying to figure out what he wants. He looks like he’s getting frustrated, and makes his movements more elaborate. He points to you, makes a ‘come here’ gesture, then points to his face. His hands cup nothing, but he brings the cupped nothingness to his face.

“I’m..not sure what you're trying to say.” You get closer to him, listening to his ‘come here’ gesture. “Okay, me.” You point to yourself and he nods, “Come to you.” he nods again. He points at you again, then points to your thighs and makes a cupping motion, he then lowers his cupped hands to his face. “My legs?” You pause, “you grab them and bring them to your face?”

“What?” You are even more confused than before. But after a second it clicks, and your cheeks heat up as a shock goes through your spine. Your mouth hangs open like a fish before you shut it with a click of your teeth. “You want me to…sit on your face?”

He nods enthusiastically.

You aren’t sure how to react to this. You just met this guy around three weeks ago, and you barely know anything about him. “Uh,” your mouth feels dry, but something is getting wetter. “Will that make you feel better?” You want him to feel better, especially after your distraction made him get slammed into a wall.

Once again, he nods. It’s like he fully expects it as you see him get comfortable, as if settling in for a good nap but instead he settling in for a good session. You shyly scratch the back of your neck. Are you really doing this? Yes, you might as well. A pool of warmth is rapidly heating up in your lower stomach, and you can feel yourself wettening.

You sigh, and stand. Your hands reach for the waistband of your cloth pants, thumbs hooking beneath the fabric as you peel down your pants. Next comes your underwear as it follows the same path as your pants. A wet patch visible on the fabric. Shyly, you move to stand over The Bearer, who waits in silence, his hands held politely over his stomach.

How can he be so unbothered? But your eyes catch a glimpse of his crotch, and his straining erection. Well, looks like he actually is bothered by it. Looking back, you get onto your knees as your crotch gets closer to his helmeted face. “Uh, do you want me to go down on the helmet?” You don’t think that’ll feel good against your wet cunt.

The Bearer only responds with a ‘come here’ gesture, most likely telling you to keep lowering yourself onto him. You don’t want to hurt him, so when your sensitive folds meet his cold helmet, you jerk from the temperature change and make sure not to press too hard on him. “T-There, are you happy?”

He is very much not. Suddenly, his hands shoot up and grasp harshly onto your thighs. It feels like he’ll leave bruises. You gasp and hardly have time to react before one of his hands snakes up to his helmet, pushing it off of his head. You can only get the slightest glimpse of dark hair before your entire weight is forced onto his face.

“Ah! Wait!” You're nervous you’ll hurt him, “I don’t want to hurt you! I’m too heavy!” You try to protest, but his strong arms keep you from getting up. The warmth of his skin against your pussy is a much better feeling than the cold bite of his helmet. You swear you can hear him inhale deeply, savouring the scent of your arousal.

To him, you certainly weren’t heavy. Actually, you were the perfect amount of pressure he wanted to be sat on his face. He smiles to himself, he’s finally got what he’s been wanting for a good minute and he’s going to savour it for as long as you allow it. When he feels you try to move your weight off of him, he grits his teeth and his fingers dig into your thighs.

The warmth of something wet flicks against your folds. Your breath hitches, a spark of pleasure running through your spine at the sensation. Another lick, you bite back a small whimper of pleasure. He’s teasing you, only starting with small flicks and barely there grazes of his wet tongue.

It’s been so long since you’ve been pleased, and now you're so sensitive. The tip of his tongue just barely grazes through your folds. Before he reaches your clit, which is starting to throb with neediness, he moves his tongue back. Your muscles jump and tense from the teasing.

“Sh..Shit..” You curse through gritted teeth, you bend forward a bit, grinding on his face to chase the pleasure. He finally gives in, his tongue pressing against your sensitive clit, applying pressure before releasing and doing it again. It's faint, but it builds onto itself with every press. Then, his tongue dips into your pussy, trailing upwards to your clit again in one long, filthy lick.

Your breath is warming up, and your skin feels like it's burning. The hairs on your body stand on end as goosebumps rise up. Your thighs tense up and lightly press on the sides of his face, which elicited a pleased deep groan from him. The tip of tongue teases around your hole, just tracing around the edges.

You almost feel a bit frustrated, so you grind against his face again, angling your body so your clit gets the most friction. He lets it happen, only for a few seconds before you feel a sharp pain on your inner thigh. Did he just bite you? The press of a sharp canine tooth confirms your suspicions.

For some reason, the pain just arouses you further. He’s telling you to stop, he wants to do the work. Reluctantly, your hips stutter as they slow their grinding down to a halt. “It’s.. It’s not my fault,” You begin, your voice slowly becoming husky. “You aren’t doing too much.” You complain. That seems to do it though.

Another small nip on your inner thighs makes a small gasp breach your lips. His fingers will surely leave bruises on your thighs as they hold you exactly where he wants you. His tongue darts out again, tracing around the edge of your hole before abruptly plunging in. 

Your back arches as you gasp loudly, feeling sparks of pleasure travel across your nerves. The warm and wet tongue gets as far as it can. It presses down onto your slick walls, swirling around and tasting you. “Fuck!” You grit out, your nose scrunching. “Oh gods, keep doing that.” You huff out unconsciously, just wanting the pleasure to not end.

Below you, The Bearer is having the time of his life. His cock is aching beneath the layers of his clothes and armour as it leaks and throbs. But he isn’t here to service himself, he’s here to service you and get off on it. A damp patch bleeds through the fabric around his crotch and his cock twitches, a spark of pleasure travelling down his spine at your moans and taste.

His tongue travels as far as it can go, before he brings it back while pressing on whatever wall he can find. Then, he pushes it back in, essentially thrusting into you with his tongue. Nice and slow, dragging out moans from you. Your thighs tense around his head again, and he nearly cums in his pants just because of it.

The pressure of his tongue inside you feels amazing. He knows how to pace himself, keeping it slow and letting the sensations build onto each other. Your chest starts to rise and fall more rapidly, your warm breaths increasing. You can feel yourself dripping onto his face, and even feel his tongue lick a strip of slick up your thigh.

The fingers on your thighs finally let up on their harsh grip. When you don’t bother to move yourself or lessen your weight, his hands trail up and down your thighs. They move to your hips, holding firmly as they start to move you to grind on his tongue. Your face is so hot, and you feel so needy. You let him guide you, letting him move your hips around to how he wants it.

A pressure on a certain wall makes you moan out, louder than you expected. A shock of blinding pleasure shoots through your body. It looks like he’s found what he’s looking for. His tongue presses again, harder this time. Your back arches and he barely relents. His tongue moves to swirl around, giving you the slightest mercy before pressing down again.

“Gods!” You groan out. You should really manage your volume, you’d prefer not to be found by some hollows in this position. But you can’t control it when it feels so good, and The Bearer seems to enjoy it quite a lot. The hands on your hips keep guiding you to do slow grinds, before making your hips move in a circular motion.

He removes his tongue from inside you, and you whine at the loss. But he quickly makes up for it, sticking his tongue out to catch against your clit with every circle. He continues the terrible teasing for a minute before the hands on your hips press you down even harder onto him, his tongue and mouth fully on your clit now.

It feels like your poor clit is being abused so beautifully. Your legs twitch and your stomach starts to suck in and tense, that familiar sensation of what feels like a knot tying in your lower stomach signals how close you are. His tongue presses harshly onto your clit, licking it in small strips before his lips close around it and he sucks.

You can barely handle it anymore. Your entire body is warm, and the knot ties tighter and tighter in your stomach. Your hands clench harshly onto whatever you can grab, which is his strong arms. Your eyes water from pleasure, your vision starting to blur. He sucks again, his tongue flicking your clit between his lips as he does so.

Your nails dig into his armour clad arms, and your entire body finally tenses. Your thighs press harshly around his head, causing his hips to buck up. The knot in your stomach undoes itself as your back arches harshly, and you nearly scream out in pleasure as you orgasm, soaking his face. 

Below you, you can hear a guttural groan as his hips buck again and he finds his own orgasm. His cock twitches and jumps as he cums in his pants, a large wet-spot appearing around his crotch. He came completely untouched just because of you sitting on his face.

Atop of him, you breathe heavily as the aftershocks of the intense orgasm wrack through your sweaty form. It’s been so long since you’ve reached your peak, that you almost forgot how incredible it felt. His hands move from your hips to trace soothing patterns on your thighs.

“Do-Do you fe-feel better?” You stutter, your voice slightly cracking from all the moaning. You feel him nod beneath you, his hair tickling your inner thighs. “Good.” You huff, “Can I get up now?” You ask and he remains still for a second before he nods again.

Slowly, you raise yourself on shaky thighs. You don’t even get the slightest glimpse of his face as he puts his helmet back on the instant that he can do so. You smile and huff a laugh, “Shy?” Even after he literally just tongue-fucked you into an orgasm? You doubt it.

He nods, which just makes you laugh again. “Alright, I don’t see how you can be after all of that.” You feel like a baby deer learning how to walk as you get up on trembling legs, the remains of your orgasmic slick running down your thighs. You stumble over to your discarded underwear and pants, pulling them back up.

As you do so, your back is turned away from him, and you don’t hear the clinking of armour approaching you. Until suddenly two strong arms wrap around your midsection. “Bearer!” You gasp in surprise as he easily lifts you off your feet and walks you back to his spot.

You're too weak to really protest or struggle, so you just let him carry you with a bemused expression. He sits down, bringing you with him. He sets you on his lap before he lets himself slowly fall to his side, laying you down right up next to him. Surprisingly, his armor doesn’t make this too uncomfortable. 

His hand moves your chin, pushing your head to rest on his furred shoulder as his own head buries itself into the crook of your neck. He’s cuddling you, and you can tell he is adamant on not letting go. With a sigh, you accept your fate. Slowly, your eyes get heavier and heavier.

But just before you fall asleep, you swear you could see him lift his helmet up, just enough to reveal his glistening lips as he places a kiss to your forehead.

Chapter Text

Contents: Armor kink, size difference, rough sex, clothed Blaidd, naked Reader. Long deserved request. Kinda blood kink? Not too much.

Being the daughter of a travelling merchant meant you were always going from here to there, meeting new faces and sometimes pillaging their corpses when you later found them dead. It was an honest life, you guess. Whatever keeps you alive in these lands, keeps you alive.

Upon the scrawny donkeys back, whom you affectionately named Big Ears due to his well, Big Ears, you ride. It’s a wonder the old donkey can support your weight and the many heavy bags, full of trinkets and other various items to peddle. In front of the donkey, walks your father. His grey, skinny hand holding the lead.

You would normally be walking beside him, talking about something or other, but you’ve both been travelling for days now. Any time you two try to sit down and get some rest, some danger comes out of the bush and drives both of you off before your aching limbs can even settle.

“We can switch now if you’d like.” You say. You really don’t want to, your legs still feel like they’re made of jelly and pain shoots up anytime you take a few steps. But you know your father himself must be tired, and guilt starts to eat away at you. The least you can do is let him ride Big Ears for a few hours.

“No.” His gruff voice responds, “Stay on the donkey, I’m fine.” He lies through his teeth. You sigh, your chest pushing inward with the force of exasperation. Your father is stupidly stubborn, so you know arguing with him, even for the benefit of his frail health. It frustrates you, and you really wish you could vent it out sometimes. But it's only been you and your father for the past year.

“We’ll have to switch eventually.” You know he can only take so much exhaustion before collapsing. Your father just responds with a grumble under his breath that you don’t quite catch. Sitting straight on the saddle, you take a look at your surroundings with an idle boredom. You unconsciously look for safe places to rest.

You're near the Mistwoods. The many standing trees and ground blanketed by a fog that always seems to be there for some reason no matter the reason, just pass by your eyes. You skim over it. Forests aren’t a very good place to set up camp. One, you’ve heard rune bears love forests, and two, setting up a camp with a fire inside the woods isn’t a very good idea-

Wooooo…

Your ears catch that distant call, undoubtedly coming from the Mistwoods. Ah, and third of all, wolves would love to prey on an exhausted frail merchant with his daughter. You’ll basically be a tasty appetizer for them. The sun is already starting to set, painting the sky with shades of yellows and oranges. A breeze runs by you, promising the chill of a cold night.

Which just makes it more imperative to find a safe place to settle down for the night. Your eyes scan the area again, and you find something that's finally promising. A cave opening, it looks undisturbed.

“Hey, look.” You call out to your father, who stops in his tracks to look where you're pointing. “We can set up camp there. I don’t think there’s any patrols around it.” You strain to look around, just to make sure. Sure enough, you see no foot soldiers making any rounds. Nor any manmade trails nearby.

“Thank Marika..” Your father croons, sounding utterly exhausted. “We’ll stay there for a few days. We need to rest. Who knows, maybe some Tarnished still with their sanity will come around with runes to spare.” He hopes out loud.

Big Ears snorts as he’s led over to the cave. The cave is decently spacious, not too big and not too small that the smoke from the inevitable fire would choke either of you. Reaching the yawning mouth of the cave, you breathe a sigh of relief. No dangers in the cave, just as you hoped for.

Sliding off Big Ears’ saddle, your feet ache as they hit the ground. You inwardly wince but try not to show the pain. Walking over to your father, you take the lead from him. “Go and sit, I’ll get everything ready.” You say firmly. Your father goes to protest, but you're already walking away. You can hear him sigh in defeat behind you.

Leading the donkey, you stop at the center of the cave. You pet Big Ears’ nose, and he knows that means his work is done for the day. The donkey carefully lays down, already trained on how to sit properly without knocking all of the heavy bags off. Approaching his side, you start to take the small bags off first.

The small bags were mostly filled with small amounts of runes, sometimes throwing daggers and the like. Next comes the slightly bigger, medium bags, which carried cookbooks you found along the way. Then the heaviest ones. Those were a bane to deal with. You reach for one of them, and you huff as the weight of it presses down on you.

You set it down with a clank, the armour pieces inside hitting against each other. You then turn and reach into a pouch that's attached to the saddle, where two furled and slightly dirtied rugs sit. Pulling them out, you lay them on the ground as they unfurl by themselves. They were sort of the things you and your father slept on, or just sat on. It's better than hard rock or bug-covered dirt.

“I’ll get some wood for the fire, stay here.” You say, “I won’t be too long.”

Stepping out of the cave, your eyes zero in on the misty woods. Well, it's the only place to get what you need. You won’t go too far in anyways, so you’ll be alright. But you can’t help but feel just a bit nervous as you get closer and closer to the tree line. Stepping into the forest, your ears are perked up to hear for any danger.

Nothing. Good. ‘Stop being so jumpy’ you think to yourself, wandering further in. You look down, trying to find some dry twigs to collect. As you walk, you pick up a few scraggly dry twigs. Most of the twigs you were finding were either too damp, too small, or just not good for kindling. After a few minutes, you have a good stack of them. You’d prefer more but-

Crack.

Your head shoots up at the sudden noise, your heart jumping to your throat. You freeze up like a spooked deer, looking around. The forest is just as misty as it was before, but now, with the darkening light, it looks even scarier. You can't see past the next five trees very well, only vague shapes of other trees in the distance. Only the sound of blowing wind, and the occasional rustle of leaves catches your ears.

Standing there, you strain your eyes and ears to figure out where the noise came from. Suddenly, you don’t feel very alone. An uncomfortable feeling runs up your skin. It feels like something is watching you. In this land, something most likely is. Deciding to not count your blessings right now, you turn and start to walk back to the cave.

Step, step, step.

Cold sweat erupts on your skin as footsteps, which aren’t yours, start to follow you. Maybe if you ignore it, it’ll go away. You continue walking, speeding up just a bit. To which, the footsteps match your pace. Your hands grip harder onto your bundle of sticks, hearing them creak from the pressure.

The exit of the forest is getting closer, but your fear is building. Your feet start to act on their own as you break into a fog, the footsteps behind you copying the speed. Whoever is following you, sounds heavy. The footsteps get too close for your liking and you burst into a full sprint. The footsteps pause, but you don’t hear them stop.

Breaking through the tree line, you whip around to see who was chasing you. But only the openings of trees, the ever present mist, and the darkness of the settling night greet you. Could it have been your imagination? Did you scare yourself into hallucinating another pair of footsteps?

“Stupid, stupid..” You huff, mostly to yourself. You need to get stronger nerves. You continue walking, eventually returning to the cave where your father and Big Ears are patiently waiting.

“I got enough for a small fire.” You say, placing them down in the middle as you start to set them up.

“I’ll get more in the morning.” Your father responds. His muscles relax as the fire licks of warmth hit his skin. The tiny flame starts to eat away at the dry fuel, slowly getting bigger until it reaches its biggest form. A modest, but practical fire.

You finally rest on your rug, feeling your tired legs strain for just another moment before they can finally relax. Slowly, your exhaustion starts to set in. After days of only getting, at most, two hours of sleep each night, you just want to sleep forever. You lay on your side, watching the fire dance and burn.

Before sleep eventually takes you, you could swear you heard a strange, distant wolf howl.

You actually managed to get a full night's sleep that night, and the morning was a good one. Now, you sit crosslegged with items splayed out in front of you. Your father had left a little earlier, going to scavenge for more items to sell and find some fresh water to bring back.

You adjust a few daggers, making them look presentable as you decide where each item goes. Smithing stones next to each other, daggers and blades pointed upwards, and armour pieces sat out. They all lay on a red cloth. It's just there to keep them from getting dirty and it makes them look more enticing.

As you overlook your selection, you don’t notice an approaching figure.

“Excuse me.”

A deep accented voice startles you, and your head snaps up to see who’s come around.

A man, or what you think is mostly a man, stands tall. Donned in armour, with a large cloak wrapped around his shoulders that trails to his long legs. But the most interesting part, and the part that made you jump a second time. Was his head. It wasn’t a human head, but instead, that of a wolf's. Small scars dot his wolf visage as he blinks down at you.

He seems to notice your staring. “Ah, I know.” He motions to his face with his gauntlet hand. “Most people are shocked at first. No worries, I understand I’m not the most average looking.” He doesn’t seem to take offence.

“O-Oh, my apologies sir, I didn’t mean to stare.” You find your voice after a moment, tearing your eyes away from his face. “Did you need something?”

“Oh? You’re the merchant, right?” He asks.

“I’m-” You pause. The thing was, while you were sort of a merchant. You only ever handled inventory, occasionally went out for item runs, and just watched your father handle the transactions. But your father will be gone for a bit, maybe even a while. You can’t pass up a customer. “Yes..I am.”

“Right, good.” He says, and his eyes go down to the selection of items. There’s not much he really wants, as he already has most of everything laid out. “Hm.” He muses to himself. “You’ve quite the wares here.”

“Thanks.” You say, a bit too quickly. There’s an awkward silence for a second, before he speaks again.

“Say, would you have happened to be in the mistwoods lately?” He suddenly asks, looking at you again.

You pause, what a specific question. “I have.” You purse your lips before you remember last night. “But ah, if you’re thinking of going, you should be careful. I think I was almost attacked last night there.”

The wolf man stares at you, but you swear you can see a little uptick on his lips. “Hm, thanks for that mate. I’ll be sure to watch out if I ever tread there.” You feel like he’s not telling you something.

“Apologies, I should introduce myself. Names Blaidd.” He introduces himself.

“It’s nice to meet you Blaidd.” You smile up at him. Always be nice to the customer, they might buy more. “I’m (name).” You introduce yourself back before asking. “Do you see anything you’d like?”

The man, Blaidd, looks over the items again. His wolf ears went back just a bit before going back up straight. “It doesn’t seem so.” He says, and you feel a bit disheartened. It's been a bit since you’ve had a customer. Blaidd speaks again, “I’ll be honest. I didn’t come for wares, I came to ask if you’ve seen a man by the name of Darriwil.”

You blink, not really expecting that. “Darriwil? Hm..” You start to rack your brain for a ‘Darriwill.’ You’ve met plenty of people during the travels with your father, it's hard to remember everyone's name. “Actually, yes I think so.” A memory sticks out to you. A tall, lanky iron clad man that had terrible posture. He looked more suited to walk on four legs.

“I believe he went over that general direction.” You say, leaning forward and pointing over a distant hill. That was the last place you saw him go, so you assume he’s there somewhere. “But that was a few days ago, so he might not be around anymore. Sorry.”

“Hm, no worries.” Blaidd says, before reaching into a small pouch attached to his waist, hidden in the fluffiness of his cloak. He brings out a small bag. “Here, runes for your troubles, mate.” He tosses the small bag to you and you catch it.

You open the bag, looking in. There’s a good stack of runes in it, not too much, not too little. “Why thank you, that’s very kind.” You feel happier now. You haven't made a sale in a good minute, but runes are runes. “Feel free to come back anytime. I’ll be here for the next few days if you’d like to buy anything.”

“I will. I owe you one.” With that, he turns around and starts to stalk off. You can’t help but stare at him as he retreats. What a nice set of armour…

It’ll be a few days before you saw Blaidd again, and it was a surprise meeting. The little twigs that you had periodically added to the little fire were running out, as you had stripped the mistwoods floor bare of the good dry twigs. You’d have to go further in to find more, and you really didn’t want to. But here you are now, in the midst of the misty woods. A bundle of dry twigs held against your side, but they weren’t enough.

Luckily for you, it was daylight so it was easier to see through the many trees and fog. Hopefully that also meant that whatever chased you that first night, isn’t here anymore or it doesn’t come out in the day. As you walk around, you keep your eyes peeled for both dry twigs and movement. Your ears only pick up the crunch of leaves as you walk around, and the occasional distant bird song. Strange, birds don’t sing much here.

Something catches your eye and you freeze, a bolt of fear running through you until you realize what it is. Something looms in the distant fog, tall and unmoving. Squinting your eyes, you can see that it's clearly a building. Or the remains of one to be exact. Slowly, you start to walk over to it as its details come into view.

Crumbling, obviously. Vines and other bits of nature cling to its stony carcass. Walking closer, you decide to take a stroll into the inner parts of the ruins. Maybe there’s something here you can take to sell to customers later. Speaking of customers, luckily for both you and your father, a few tarnished have been travelling through the area and you’ve both scored yourself a good batch of runes.

You move cautiously, always on the look out for any traps set. You’ve had a few run-ins with traps, and they weren’t pretty. After making sure no trip wires or pressure plates were around, you checked every corner and crack. So far, nothing. Hm, has this place been ransacked already? Well, you should get back to collec-

Crunch crunch crunch…

Footsteps reach your ears. Not just any footsteps, but those familiar heavy ones from that night. Your heart jumps to your throat as you look for the pursuer, but finding nobody. You can’t tell where the footsteps are coming from. From your right? Your left? Where should you hide? The crunch of a twig underneath a heavy footstep makes you jump again, and you start to jog nervously back to the direction you came.

The footsteps follow, and they are matching your pace. You speed up, and like the night they went after you, they just follow in your steps and speed up as well. That is, until you break into a full sprint. You fully expect them to stop, or fall behind you. But the footsteps instead thud heavily after you, just getting closer and closer by the second.

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you yell out, your arms instinctively coming up to shield your face as your turned around sharply.

“Are you alright mate?” An accented voice asks, a familiar accented voice..

“Blaidd?” You spring open your eyes, seeing your pursuer. “Was that you the entire time!?” You ask.

Blaidd smiles nervously. Although, with a jaw full of sharp teeth, it doesn’t make him look very friendly. “Yes it was, I apologize. I didn't mean to frighten you. I was-”

“Did you really have to chase me like that? I thought you were going to kill me!” You clench the fabric over your heart, “You could not have just said that it was you?”

Blaidd’s ears go down for a second before coming back up. “Ah, I suppose I should have started with that.” He looks a little embarrassed. Being near only a few people in your life, doesn’t help your social skills with new people. “Again, my apologies mate. I was only trying to talk with you.”

You take a few breaths, feeling your racing heart start to calm. You clutch the bundle of sticks tighter, but it feels lighter than before. You look down, and gasp. The bundle had lost some sticks in your frantic haste to get away. “Gods damn it.” You curse. Blaidd looks down and notices it too.

“Hm, re-building your fire?” He asks.

“Yeah, well, I was trying too. Now I need to go get more, or find the ones I dropped.” You huff, a bit annoyed.

“Here, let me help. It’s the least I could do.” Blaidd suddenly takes the bundle of sticks from you.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I can do it myself.” You protest but Blaidd shakes his head.

“I’m a man of my word, I owe you one for helping me find Darriwil.” He says, “That's what I wanted to talk about to be frank. I came to thank you for the tip.”

You pause before talking. “Ah, well that’s good. Alright, I guess you can repay me by just collecting some dry sticks. How’d your reunion with Darriwil go?” You ask, presuming that Darriwil was his friend.

Blaidd visibly cringes before he speaks. “I dispatched him. Darriwil was a traitor.” He says plain and simple.

“Oh.” You say, and an awkward silence falls over you and Blaidd. You break it however. “So, how have you been these past few days? Good, I hope.” It actually feels nice to talk to someone without them being a customer, or it being your father, or a donkey that can’t understand what you're saying.

“I’ve been well. You?” Blaidd asks as he starts to walk, and you follow, having to more speed walk to keep up with his long strides.

“Oh that’s good. I’ve actually been pretty good myself. Finally found a spot that isn’t crawling with danger.” You say, finding a smile starting to build on your face. “It’s like finding diamonds. Safe spots, that is.”

“Yeah, I’ve had my fair share of bad run ins myself.” Blaidd bends down to pick up some dry sticks he spots, adding them to the bundle. “Hmph, you can tell can’t you eh?” He motions to his wolf face.

You smile, chuckling a bit. “Yes, I can tell.” Your eyes track various scars running across his face. Some hidden by fur, or just barely there. “You’re a type of warrior I presume? That sword isn’t for decoration?” You point to the obscenely large sword adorning his back.

Blaidd smiles again and this time it isn’t that scary. “It is not for decoration. I would have not got it smithed for me for nothing. And your suspicions are correct, you could call me a warrior of sorts, loyal to lady R-” He cuts himself off and clears his throat. “Yes, a warrior.”

“Hm, alright.” You decide not to prod on the name he almost slipped. “Well, I guess I should come clean too. I’m not uh, exactly the merchant. My dad is, I’m just sort of the stockpiler most of the time. Sometimes the camp maker too, like with the fires right now.”

“I could tell.” Blaidd responds. “You weren’t like any normal merchant I’d seen, nor did you act like all the others I’ve met. Much more helpful you are.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you manage to brush it off. It's been a bit since you’ve got a compliment. ‘It’s just a compliment, don’t overthink it’ you think to yourself. “Thanks. Hah, yeah, I’ve met a few other merchants myself. Greedy bunch some of them are, wouldn’t even tell us where we could find a good place to rest without giving them some runes.”

“Ha! I can say I’ve had that experience before too.” Blaidd barks a laugh. You don’t even realize how far you're going with him by now. You are far deeper in the forest than you intended to go, but with Blaidd, you didn’t even notice as you continued talking with him.

“Blaidd, you wouldn’t mind me asking some questions would you?” You ask and he nods. “Oh good, I just wanted to ask about your own travels. Mine aren’t so interesting, just running and hiding for the most part.”

“Ah, of course.” Blaidd smiles again.

It feels like a blur as you speak with Blaidd. It just felt amazing to talk to someone new for once, hear new stories, and even vent out some of your frustrations. Time flies by, and before you know it, the sky is tinged orange with the setting sun. You and Blaidd have collected many sticks, much more than you even needed.

You laugh, “Wait, so, that tarnished really rode on some disappearing horse thing?” You recount one of the stories he told you of a strange tarnished.

“Yes, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. Appearing and disappearing with some whistle he carried. Bloody strange is what it was.” Blaidd adjusts the large bundle of sticks held at his side. They clink and hit against each other. “Helpful fellow though.”

“I’d kill for a disappearing horse. It’s not like I don’t like my family's donkey or anything but he’s just so slow. Poor thing gets saddled with so much weight, I’m scared his back is going to break soon.” You walk by Blaidds side. It seems like he was easier to catch up with and you didn’t need to speed walk anymore. Did he pace himself?

“I saw it. Scrawny thing. I wouldn’t even eat it myself and I’m a wolf.” He jokes and you laugh alongside with him.

“Yeah, he’d be more of a toothpick.” You chuckle before you look up, seeing the orange tinted sky. “Oh shit, have we really been out so long? It was just the middle of the day, I could swear it.”

“Ah, looks like we have been chatting for a while. Must have lost track of time I reckon.” Blaidd says. “Come on, I’ll escort you back to your camp. The nights when the rune bears like to come out.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.” You happily accept his offer. “I’d prefer not to be bear food. Besides, I don’t think I’d be able to haul all of the kindling back by myself.” It’s enough to last for near weeks if rationed well enough. With that, you and Blaidd turn around to trace your path back.

Looking up at the sky again, you notice that the clouds have begun to gather and grey. Grimacing, you comment, “Looks like it’s going to rain tonight.” The clouds only darken further, and a cold wind bites into your skin. You even see Blaidd react to the breeze and he has fur to keep him warm, so it is undeniably chilly.

“Bloody cold night is coming,” Blaidd murmurs, flicking his right ear. His sensitive nose smelling the distant petrichor.

You look back at him, and wonder inwardly. Does he have somewhere to stay away from the rain, or what looks like more of a downpour? You never saw him have a tent of some sorts, or a place to stay dry. “Hey Blaidd, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

Blaidd looks a bit surprised, and he pauses for a moment before speaking. “I do not, no. I travel quite often, so I’ve no time to set up many camps of my own.”

“You can stay with me for tonight!” You smile, “The cave has plenty of room, so you won’t need to squeeze in.”

“Ah, no. I would not wish to burden you mate.” Blaidd rejects.

“No, no really, It’s fine. You won’t bother me or my father at all.” You really want him to stay, you aren’t sure why but you just want to keep talking to him and stay in his presence. “Besides, It would be cruel to leave you out in the rain. What kind of friend would I be if I did so?”

Blaidd freezes at the word ‘friend’ but he shakes it off as a droplet of water splashes onto his nose. The water is deeply cold, even if it was only a drop. “Hm, well I suppose so. If only for one night.” Blaidd relents quickly. Usually he’d firmly reject, but for some reason he doesn’t want to this time.

“Great! And of course, just one night.” You give him some of what he wants. Being friends means making compromises after all. “I’m sure my father will be fine with it, especially with a good customer such as yourself.”

Blaidd goes to say something, but more droplets start to fall. The sky was completely clouded over, and the clouds are the darkest you’ve ever seen. The wind picks up, lightly blowing Blaidds fluffy cape.

“It's really picking up..” You say, shivering slightly. “I think we should hurry up.” You suggest and Blaidd nods as he steps into a speed walk. You have to jog to keep up with him. You make sure to keep a good grip on your bundle of sticks and shield them from getting wet.

The rain only picks up worse and worse by the minute. Before you know it, it is down pouring. It almost feels like a waterfall. You're full on sprinting now, and so is Blaidd. But because of his much longer legs, and undoubtedly stronger muscles, he is very much out pacing you. Your clothes stick to your skin and rain soaks up in your hair.

“So much for getting kindling!” You shout over the pelting rain, your voice being nearly washed away. Blaidd can barely hear you over the storm, but he turns to see you a good bit behind him. He forgot how slow others can be. Letting himself fall back to your side, he finds himself reaching up to the clasp around his neck. The one that supports his fluffy cloak. Surprisingly, its inside is still warm and dry.

He takes it off with a click as it whips around in the harsh wind. “Here!” He has to yell, “Put this on and protect the rest of the bundles!” He doesn’t wait for your answer and moves to place the cloak around your shoulders, locking it in place with the click of the clasp. He moves to be in front of you, using his body as a shield against a good portion of the rain and wind.

You take his advice, holding any of the driest (Which is to say, the least drenched) sticks underneath the cloak, shielding them as best as you can. The trees themselves provide only some shelter as you and Blaidd make your trek back, but it's majorly Blaidd himself that is keeping you from getting soaked to the bone any further.

It feels like it’s a good minute before the yawning mouth of the cave comes into view, the inside clearly dry and inviting. You inwardly thank Marika, you don’t know if you could have lasted any longer being out in the rain and cold like this. It feels like your fingers will fall off.

You and Blaidd burst through the curtain of rain as you enter the cave, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Finally.” You huff, “I was beginning to think we were going the wrong way.” You laugh and Blaidd smiles.

“Where were you!”

Your father suddenly appears from behind Big Ears, his arms thrown out in exasperation. He’s clearly worried. “I was beginning to think you were eaten by a rune bear!” He chastises you as he walks over.

You cringe, “sorry dad. I just got carried away. I was just having a great time with Blaidd here.” You motion to Blaidd with your eyes. “We lost track of time.”

Your father raises his brow, then shakes his head with a sigh. He raises his hand to rub his temples, “You're going to give me hair as grey as my skin soon. But your back, and in one piece no less. Good enough. And you’ve brought a customer?”

“Oh, I was hoping Blaidd could stay with us for the night. Just to stay out of the cold.” You explain, “it’s just this night, or until the storm passes.”

“Hmm, well alright.” Your father agrees, “he can stay.”

You smile, “Ah, good.” You breathe a sigh of relief. You’d hate to leave Blaidd out in the cold like a sopping wet dog. Hm? Would it be sopping wet wolf?

You turn to Blaidd, “come on, we can share the rug. It’s big enough. Unless you’d prefer to sit on the cold stone floor?”

Blaidd lets out a huff of a laugh, “I’ll take the first offer.” He follows you to the rug, and sets himself down. It feels nice for once to have somewhere soft to sit, and not the hard ground of either the grass or the smoothness of stone.

You adjust the bundle of sticks at your side, feeling for the driest amongst them. Most were damn near soggy with rain, but you find a few needles in a hay stack and slide them from the tight bundle, careful not to break them. Walking over to the fire, which is now just a pile of charred wood, you start setting up the sticks.

It’ll be enough to last the night and hopefully no breeze will make its way through the mouth of the cave and extinguish it. “So, Blaidd, where are you headed to after this?” You ask, your attention still on properly setting up the fire. You're decently good at it, but you're not an expert as you curse under your breath as a few sticks fall down.

“To Caelid,” Blaidd answers. “There’s a festival being held at the castle on the southern edge. It’s a festival of combat.”

“A festival?” You raise your brow, you never heard of a festival held in Caelid. “Of all places? Why there?” Caelid was damn hellish, and you and your father barely went there considering there were not many opportunities for customers, and it's just super dangerous.
“General Radahn is there, and I’ve heard that you can fight him yourself.” Blaidd says, as if that’s not a terrifying notion.

“You’re trying to go and fight Radahn?” You finally look at him. You’ve heard of Radahn before. From what you’ve heard, he’s huge and has no mind. Just a fumbling, mindless beast somewhere out in the dangerous Caelid wilds.

“I am.” Blaidd confirms, “but not alone. I’ve heard that others will be there, maybe even that strange Tarnished.”

You look toward your father, an idea shooting into your head. If others will be there, that means customers! Your father looks at you with a skeptical look, “I know what you're thinking.” Your fathers gruff voice answers before you even ask. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Oh come on.” You say, quickly finishing setting up the fire and lightening it with a fwoosh of flames. “We need to move soon, and where else will there be people with their minds about them?” You try to argue with your father.

“We can’t get even a mile into Caelid before the creatures there are trying to eat us. Not to mention the scarlet rot” Your father retorts, “we won’t survive the trek to wherever this festival is.”

Damn, he's got a point and that ticks you off. Normally, you’d give in because well, you’d prefer not being ripped apart by mutated beasts or contracting a slow death by scarlet rot. But looking back at Blaidd, whom is sharpening his obscenely long sword with a whetstone. You don’t want him to go in the morning, and you aren’t sure why. Your eyes trail his armour before you catch yourself and look back at your father.

“Please!” You beg, “We have gotten about what, three customers here? Where else will we set off to?” You then get a sudden idea with a sharp ‘ting’ of Blaidds whetstone behind you. “What if Blaidd travels with us?”

It looks like the idea shocks both your father and Bladd himself as he stops sharpening, and looks up at you. “Huh?” Your father responds.

“Think of it, he’s a knight.” You motion to Blaidd, “he can be like a sort of escort. I’m sure he knows where the festival is so he can lead us there!” Your idea sounds fool proof. “..Eh, if Blaidd is alright with it?” You turn to look at Blaidd.

Blaidd is quiet for a second, before he sighs. “I wouldn’t mind it mate.” He agrees, and a smile bursts on your face as you whip your head to your father. With a great sigh, one that hunches his shoulders down, your father nods silently.

You engulf your frail father in a hug, a tight one at that and he lets out a ‘ack!’ from how hard you hug him. You swear you could hear his back crack. You let him go, “Oh thank you!” You look at Blaidd and happily wander to him, “I promise you won’t regret travelling with us. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ll hold you up for that.” Blaidd replies with a smile. He then yawns, his sharp teeth glinting in the fire's light. You catch yourself wondering if his bite would hurt. Well, don’t be stupid of course it would it’s a damn wolf's mouth. The yawn travels to you and you yawn, your jaw clicking before it snaps back shut.

“First thing in the morning, we’re packing up and heading for Caelid.” Your father says, moving over to his own rug to settle down for the night.

“Alright, got it.” You say, sitting down next to Blaidd. “I hope it’ll be an easy walk. I’ve never been into Caelid.”

“Ah, I’ve been there before on a few occasions. It won’t be, I’m sure of that.” Blaidd says. “But we will make it, don’t worry mate. I’ve gone up with worse than what's in the scarlet infested hell.”

“Good, I’ll try not to get killed while we’re travelling,” You laugh and Blaidd smiles.

“I’ll make sure a good mate like you doesn’t.” Blaidd replies and with that, he sheathes his blade again with a ‘shink.’ “I’ll get some rest, you should too.”

“Alright, good night Blaidd.”

“Good night.”

You settle down onto your rug, Blaidds large body laying nearby, his breath starting to slow down. You lay on your side, your eyes starting to droop. But your tired eyes find the sleeping form of Blaidd, and for some reason your eyes start to overlook him, especially his armour.

The grooves and dips of the armour hugging his form are traced by your eyes. Every little detail is hastily eaten by your staring. He looks good in his armour, and you enjoy just looking at it. You haven’t really admitted it to yourself, but you’ve always known it. You’ve had a strange fascination with armour for a bit now.

You aren't sure what it is about armour, it’s just…so enticing. You’ve seen hundreds of armour-clad customers come and go and most of the time, you saw their armour more than you saw the person in it. A familiar warmth blooms in your lower stomach and you press your thighs together, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.

Blaidds armour is particularly enticing, not to mention the man (wolf?) in it is not so bad in both looks and personality. You’ve been deprived of any good bodily pleasures in so long that you’ve begun to feel desperate and needy. Pleasures aren't the first thing many people think of when crossing across another sane-minded person. It’s mostly whether or not the person is a threat.

You press your thighs together again, overlooking Blaidds armour. How would it feel like to?... No, no, you’d rather not have to silently use your fingers and imagine scenarios. With a sigh, you turn and tear your lingering eyes away from Blaidd. Slowly, you let your eyes close and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

For once, your father is on Big Ears’ saddle as he jostles with each step. You were in front, your hand holding Big Ears’ lead and right beside you walked Blaidd. The heavy bags clink and shuffle as the donkey is led off the cobble stone path. The distant blood red lands of Caelid only get closer and closer. You feel a little nervous, even with Blaidd by your side.

Blaidd seems to notice. “Don’t worry mate, I know a few safe paths we could travel in.”

“Good, good…” You murmur. “So, how long will it take to get to.. R-Redmare?”

“Redmane Castle.”

“Yes, Redmane Castle.”

“Hm, soon now. It should be an hour's walk from here. That is if we don’t encounter any obstacles.” Blaidd unconsciously clenches his gauntleted fist, as if preparing for a fight. Blaidds ears flick around, listening for any noises. “We are in the clear, for now I reckon.”

Your feet crunch down on the reddening ground, and your nose scrunches. A horrid rotting smell invading your senses. Blaidd copies, his own wolf nose scrunching and his fangs slightly bared for a second before his lip comes back down. It must be worse for him, considering the nose.

The landscape was just as hellish as described. Not much life survives here, just empty or bloated husks of rotting trees. No vegetation, and very little buildings have survived the scarlet rot that infests this part of the Lands Between. But it looks like the path that Blaidd is leading you on is clear on enemies.

“How many people do you think will be at the festival?” You idly ask, being careful not to trip over a gnarled root.

“If I were to assume correctly, quite a few.” Blaidd says, “I heard of it from another tarnished. I presume it's being spread around by word of mouth.”

You look back at your father on Big Ears’ with a smile, saying everything without opening your mouth. Your father just crosses his arms and huffs, clearly not wanting to tread into Caelid.

You look back at Blaidd, “So, the festival is all about fighting Radahn? Sounds like a tall order for anyone.”

“Yes it's pleasingly simple. We fight, sword and fang.” Blaidd looks almost excited.

You purse your lips before speaking, “well if you're going after Radahn, I certainly hope you don’t die.” You nervously laugh. You certainly don’t want your friend to die.

“I’ll be sure not to.” Blaidd answers as you continue your walk with him. It feels like it goes by in a flash. You were too engrossed in some conversation about various subjects with Blaidd to notice how fast time went. Occasionally, you would have to stop and get quiet to avoid some enemies.

The giant birds with teeth loaded beaks were the worst thing you’ve seen, and you were nearly spotted multiple times. But with Blaidds guidance, you and your father were able to keep hidden. And luckily for Blaidd, he didn’t have to dull his blade by using it to defend either himself or you. He wanted to keep it nice and sharp for Radahn.

Soon enough, the Redman Castle looms before you. Strangely, it looks like there were supposed to be some obstacles in the way. Like unmanned ballistas and a half open gate. A few corpses lie around, blade marks slashed through them. Blaidd takes one look at them and mutters, “that Tarnished has been here.”

Your ears catch the distant sounds of moving and talking. A few clinks of armours, items, some laughter and murmurs that get closer as you go deeper into the castle. Finally you come to the source as you are led to pass through an archway into an open courtyard. Various people, clad in all sorts of armour and leathers walk around, holding their weapons and just chit chatting. Even a few merchants have come here too, having set up small shops. It looks like the customer market is good, as they are being bought from.

“Wow, there's more people in this place than I’ve seen in years.” You say, taking a good look around. You spot an open area that looks perfect to set up a shop. “Thanks Blaidd, I don’t think we could have made it without you.” You smile up at him, having to slightly crane your neck.

“The pleasure mine, mate.” Blaidd says, looking down at you. “Right, well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll be around.” Blaidd gives you a small wave before he goes. You watch him go, most likely to get ready for the festival's peak of fighting Radahn.

“Come on, I found a good spot.” You look back at your father on Big Ears. You begin leading the donkey to the spot, and your father dismounts once you stop the scrawny donkey. There’s an old tent where you’ve decided to set up shop, and it doesn’t have as many holes as the others around. Hm, well that’s nice, some protection from the elements while you're here. It looks big enough for two.

You walk over to Big Ears’ side, taking down some of the materials as you start to set them out on the display rug set on the ground. “Let me do it.” Your father interrupts you, taking a bag from your hands. You relent with a huff. You know your father hates feeling useless, so you let him set up the rest of the display.

Soon enough, it’s done and your father sits cross legged. You sit at the side, just watching the crowd move and weave. Occasionally your ears pick up on some wayward conversations but you lose interest in them quickly. If anything, you're having a hard time focusing on anything.

Your wants last night had amplified and now being in a crowd of armoured clad people, it’s just getting worse. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to get it off your mind. But you find yourself thinking of Blaidd again. His voice is nice to hear, and an accent isn’t half bad on the wolf man.

A customer approaches the little shop you helped set up and starts chatting with your father. You barely listen, but it's about something or other about daggers and cures for poisons. Your mind goes back to Blaidd again and you press your thighs against each other once more, feeling small bits of pleasure come from it.

It’s starting to get unbearable by now. A flash of cold sweat pricks your skin and you shuffle around, acting as if you are just adjusting your stance. Could Blaidd possibly help you? Would he even humour the idea? Maybe, but yet again, he might not. Your eyes scan the crowd again, unconsciously checking for the wolf man's familiar face and ears.

You swear you could have seen a glimpse of wolf ears peeking up over the crowd before they disappear. Another burst of want ripples across your senses, and you huff. It’s getting even worse now, and you could almost swear you feel yourself dripping down your thighs. Damn, you’ve never been this aroused before.

Should you seek out Blaidd? Wait until the main event of the festival is over? You aren’t sure. You really can’t stand being out in the open right now, it feels like everyone is watching you even though they are clearly too busy with their own stuff to even acknowledge your presence.

Turning around, you excuse yourself into the tent and close it. You find some weight to keep the flaps down, a rock. It feels like it’s just you now, the outside buzz fading away. You can finally cool yourself down, and try to deal with this yourself. Inside the tent is nice and spacious, it almost feels like a caravan. You're sure your father will be too busy dealing with customers, and any festival-goers too busy with their own stuff to care about what could be going on in a random tent.

Your hands find the waistband of your pants, thumbs hooking underneath as you start to shimmy your pants down. Only to be rudely interrupted by a fwoosh of the flaps opening. You gasp and whip around, to see Blaidd standing at the door way (tent way?). “Oh, Blaidd!” You exclaim, playing off what you were doing as you adjust your pants. “Did you need something?”

Blaidd steps in, making sure to re-add the weight to the flaps of the tent. “I came to talk to you, mate.” Blaidd says. “The fight will start soon.”

“Oh is it? Did you need some motivation? You can do it!” you joke. But your smile twitches, feeling a warm drip on your inner thigh. Oh Marika now it's even worse that Blaidd is here. Well, it’s now or never. “Uh, actually I was hoping to talk to you too.”

“Oh? Well do go on. I came to ask if you had any spare whetstones, there is none left in the display.” Blaidd says.

“Uh yeah, I have some.” You say before clearing your throat. You pause for a few moments, trying to focus. “Well I was wondering if uh.” You shift your thighs, and you swear you could see Blaidd flick his eyes down before looking back up. Should you really ask this? If it goes wrong, there goes that wonderful friendship with him.

You take a deep breath. “You don’t need to accept or anything, I’d u-understand if you don’t want to.” You say. “But uh, you see I was wondering if you like to maybe…maybe” You grit your teeth before saying the next part quickly. “Have sex with me?”

There’s a good beat of silence, and you can only hear your heartbeat in your ears. Then, you hear Blaidd shift on his feet. “Ah…Right.” It looks like he didn’t expect that, but the next thing he says shocks you. “If you would have me, of course.” Blaidd finds himself agreeing, and he’s a bit surprised with himself. But it’s been so long since he’s had any kind of pleasure, so it’s not hard for his mind to automatically kick it to a ‘yes.’

You look at Blaidd, wide eye-d for a second before registering what he says. He’s accepted, he actually accepted. A shiver runs up your spine, and your thighs tense. “Ye-Yeah, I’d like that.” You agree and Blaidd steps closer, so close that you need to crane your head to look up at him.

His hands come up to start undoing his armour, but you shoot out your hand. “Wait.” Blaidd stops, looking at you confused.

“I-I prefer the armor. I hope that's not too weird for you.” You explain, your eyes hungrily gazing across the glinting points of his armour.

“Very well, I’ll do it.” Blaidd moves his hands back. “But I want to see you.” His hands instead find the underside of your shirt. He waits for a nod, and when you give him a nod, he starts to peel your shirt off of you. You lift your arms to help him get it off and it falls to the floor, leaving you in your pants and bra.

You turn around to let Blaidd reach for the clasps of your bra. His hands are gentle, and you can hear his breath start to deepen. He undoes your bra with a small click and you let it fall to the ground, joining your discarded shirt. Your breath hitches as Blaidds arms come around you, his hands trailing up your stomach and coming to the swell of your now freed breasts.

His gauntleted hands give a sharp bite of cold to your warm skin and you flinch, “ah..” you gasp.

“Sorry, I know it’s cold.” Blaidd continues his slow fondling, his large hands gripping down onto your breasts. He squeezes once, then twice, before his fingers come down to your nipples and the hardening peaks. The pleasure is slow and the feeling of having your breasts touched by someone other than yourself is new, but not unpleasant. You find yourself slightly arching into his touch.

Goosebumps riddle your skin to the temperature change and sensation, and your hairs stand on end. But that's all you needed. You move your hand to come over one of his, gently gripping onto it as you guide it down to your pants. Blaidd gets the memo quickly and he hooks his thumb underneath the fabric, catching the thin fabric of your damp panties with it as well.

Blaidd goes slowly, making a show of pulling them down. Your thighs quiver and your breath is warm against your face. Suddenly, Blaidds free hand grips your chin and you're forced to look up, your back pressed against the hard cold of his armoured chest. You see him lick his lips, a glint in his eyes.

Your mouth is soon engulfed by his own. The kiss starts slowly, your lips pressed against his. You only separate from his lips to take a breath. All while his other hand keeps pushing down your pants. Soon enough, your panties and pants pool at your ankles. Blaidd breaks away from the kiss to look down.

Blaidds eyes catch the glint of your arousal between your thighs, and he smiles. “Ah, I see why you acted so plighted.” The hand on your chin moves your head down to look at the glistening spot between your legs. Made to watch as his other hand grazes against your right thigh. Your leg twitches from the ghosting of his fingers.

Blaidds hand rests on your thigh now, his thumb slowly caressing up and down. His hand smooths towards the inner of your thigh and upwards. Your hips buck as you gasp, his hand finally touching your aroused pussy. His hand only comes to cup the outer area, staying there. Maybe just feeling the heat of you against his hand, and how it seeps even into his armour, or just teasing you.

His hand stays there for a while longer, before his fingers start to move. You bite down on your lower lip, sucking in some air. His fingers graze your sensitive folds before they dip in and spread them open. Your legs twitch as his fingers graze around your hole, pressing down on the edges just a bit before they finally dip in, two at once.

“A-Ah shit!” You yelp, feeling pleasure shoot up into you. Blaidds hand, the one not with its fingers buried in you, shoots up to clasp your mouth shut.

“Shh…” Blaidd shushes you, his ears flicking around to listen to the outside world. It was only a piece of fabric that really separated the festival from you and him getting intimate. “Lets try not to get caught, mate.” His hand stays on your mouth as his fingers inside you start to pump.

Your legs semi-consciously open wider for him as you watch his fingers move in and out slowly, glistening with your wetness every time they come out before sinking back in. It feels a bit different, the cold biting at you in such a good way, different from the usual warmth of your own fingers. His fingers are bigger and thicker, stretching you out. His fingers dip back in, pushing themselves until he's up to his knuckles.

“Mhpm, B-Blaidd.” You hitch a moan against the gauntlet over your mouth, your hips bucking against his fingers again. His fingers then suddenly press harshly against your walls, pressing down on your g-spot and you gasp loudly. It almost feels like your knees will give out as they buckle, but a nudge from Blaidd keeps you upwards.

“Sensitive one aren’t you, mate?” Blaidd teases with a voice, gruffer than usual. Another press against your g-spot and another moan spills past your lips, caught by his muffling hand. His fingers keep deep inside of you, his pumping gets faster and your pleasure builds.

His hand covering your mouth moves, but only after he shushes you again. He wants you to stay quiet. While his hand inside you pumps in and out, a slick noise coming with every thrust. His other hand finds your clit, pushing back the hood to get to the most sensitive nub and presses against it.

You grit your teeth down harshly against each other, your stomach pressing in from the force of not moaning out loud. Blaidd lets out a gruff sigh against your ear, sending shivers running down your back. In the corner of your eye, you see his mouth open and the glinting of his sharp teeth.

“Don’t scream.” Blaidd commands and you feel his hips thrust against your ass, his clothed erection nearly throbbing with anticipation. His teeth graze your shoulder, the sharp edges just barely pressing into your skin. His fingers thrust faster and the hand rubbing your clit works overtime before he suddenly bites down.

“A-Ah! Gods!” You cry out in pain. Blaidds teeth sink into your shoulder, and you already feel the warmth of your blood welling up through the open wounds. But the pain works onside with the sensation of his fingers pushing into you. If anything, it makes the pleasure even better.

“Hrrng, what did I just say?” Blaidd growls against your skin, his teeth digging in. Your legs buckle and hips twitch as Blaidd continues his work with his fingers. His fingers curl again and the other presses down harshly on your clit. You can’t keep it in anymore your muscles tense in your lower stomach.

Blaidd senses it immediately before you even cry out, the hand that was pleasuring your clit shooting up to cover your mouth again. Your walls flutter and clamp down on his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you. Slick gushes down your thighs and soaks his hand. His gauntlet glistens even more than before.

Your legs feel weak, in fact your entire lower body feels like it's weakened. Your stomach pushes in and out with your huffing breath. Blaidd’s knees suddenly press against the back of your own, bending them as he slowly lowers you down to the ground onto your stomach.

You can feel Blaidd press his heavy weight down against you, his cold armour pressing against your back. Blaidd’s teeth still dig into your shoulder before he takes them out, a few droplets of warm blood running down your skin. Blaidds tongue slowly draps up your shoulder and to your jaw, his hips starting to move as he presses his crotch harder against your ass. His erection felt through the layers of leather meant to protect his most sensitive areas.

Blaidd moves in a circular motion, his erection catching against your ass before he starts to thrust shallowly against your ass. His hands plant beside your head, and you catch the glistening aftermath of your first orgasm on one of his hands. Blaidd seems to be getting impatient, wanting his own pleasures.

His thrusts start slow but press harshly, before he quickly starts to get faster. Blaidd bares his teeth, his lips curling up from the sensations in his body as every harsh thrust brings a burst of pleasure straight from his aching cock. He’s getting damn rough, pressing you firmly against the ground.

“B-Blaidd!” You groan out, your oversensitive legs twitching and muscles tensing. Blaidd moves his head to shut his jaw against the back of your throat, being careful not to seriously hurt you but definitely leave a mark and help him grip. His hot saliva drips onto the back of your neck as he steadies himself.

Your head is pulled slightly back from his bite, and you try desperately not to cry out. His leather clad erection nearly slams against your ass, a filthy plap and slight clink of his faulds against your bare sweaty skin. His breath is ragged and gruff, his own groans sounding more like a rabid animal snarling.

His teeth dislodge from the back of your neck to instead place bites where ever his mouth can reach. The warmth of blood runs down your shoulders and drips to the ground. You feel Blaidds thrusts get sloppy as he rams down, grinding before going back up and repeating.

A second knot is tying itself in your lower stomach again, your already sensitive muscles spasming and twitching. You can feel your pussy starting to throb even worse this time, your body still feeling the slightest effects of your previous orgasm. Your hands grip harshly into the ground, your nails digging in the dirt.

Blaidd continues, his thrusting becoming frantic and desperate. His erection twitching and pre-cum spilling out from his sensitive tip and bleeding through the thick fabric. Blaidd curses under his breath, his breathing ragged and eyes hazed over in that familiar look of lust and an incoming orgasm.

Blaidd snarls loudly, his eyes scrunching shit as he slams his clothed erection down on you a few more times before he finally orgasms. His hips pressing down harshly onto yours, and it nearly feels like he's digging you into the ground. His orgasm rips up his spine as his cum leaks through the leather.

You can feel the warmth of his cum dripping onto your bare ass, which feels like it's been battered by a log. Blaidd keeps pressed against you, “..Ha…ha…It has been far too long since I did that.” Blaidd admits, his voice rough.

Your legs twitch again. While he reached his own orgasm, you couldn’t reach your second. It feels like it's on the verge, your pussy overly sensitive to every little breeze. “Bl-Blaidd. I-I’m nearly finished…” You huff, feeling desperate. You push up your twitching hips against his crotch and he hisses from oversensitivity.

“Ah, I know a solution to that.” Blaidds hands immediately grip onto your bloody bitten shoulders as he lifts himself off of you, but only just so he can flip you over and press you onto your back. He presses harshly down onto you again, feeling his cock hardening again. He looks down at you with a gnarled grin.

His hips press down onto your own once more, and you can feel the full length of his clothed cock against your bare, aching pussy. You suck in a breath, a spark of pleasure running straight to your core just from the simple press of him. Your shaking legs wrap around his waist, nearly sliding off as it's hard to get a grip on smooth armor.

Blaidd leans over, his mouth finding yours again. You can taste your own blood on his tongue and teeth as his tongue invades your mouth. His thrusting starts up again, starting slow for the first few times as he needs to get his strength back. Every press of his erection against your pussy catches at your clit, and your back arches.

“Fu-Fuck! R-Right there Blaidd.” You huff out between kisses. Blaidd growls against your mouth as he continues, making sure he positions himself to press against your sensitive throbbing clit as much as he can. Your legs around his waist keep a firm grip, pulling his hips further to press harsher onto you whenever he brings himself down.

His kiss deepens and you start to feel light headed. Any time you try to break away for a gulp of air, he just chases your mouth moments afterwards. Blaidd is much more focused on the blinding pleasure of finally releasing himself that he can barely think straight to let you get just enough air.

His rough thrusts quickly come back, and just as before it feels like he's trying to bury you into the ground. Your clit almost feels like it's being abused. More plaps sound out in the tent and you are eternally grateful for all the noise and chatter of the festival. It doesn’t take long for your back to arch, sweat to burst down your skin and hair to stand on end once again.

Your second orgasm almost hurts as it feels like it hits you like a freight train. Your hips buck upward as you squirt all over his crotch, soaking the leather and metal of his armor. A scream can’t escape your lips for longer than a second before Blaidd removes his mouth to replace it with his hand, muffling you as best as he can.

Your chest heaves in and out, your heart beating against your ribs. Tears from stimulation prick your eyes and you blink them away. Blaidd breathes heavily atop of you, “Right, well…are you well, mate?” He gruffly asks, rising up and sitting on the back of his legs.

“Y-Yeah..” You huff, needing a minute to recover. “Just..Just let me catch my breath.” It feels like you were wrung out like a dishcloth. But by Marika and all of the demigods, you were beyond satisfied after such a long dry spell.

Blaidd chuckles, fully standing up now. His crotch covered with the glistening slick of both your combined orgasms. It’s a damn mess. But not as much of a mess as you are. You're sweaty, covered in your own fluids, bitten up and slightly bloodied. Luckily, you know where some towels are to clean up.

“Ah, r-right the daggers you wanted..” Your brain is still coming down from the fog of orgasms. You shake as you turn to your side, your hand feeling around and missing a nearby bag a few times before you finally grab it. You bring it over, unlatching it. You dig into it, pulling out a few spare throwing daggers. “H-Here, for the fight..”

Blaidd steps forward, bending down to take the throwing daggers from you. “Thank you, mate.” Blaidd wipes sweat from his forehead. “Ah, could you spare some cloth for me?” Blaidd asks for a towel. He obviously can’t go out with his crotch completely soaked, what would the others think?

You really can’t get up right now, so you just point to a small bag in the corner of the tent. “...Its in there, take any one.” You huff, throwing your arm over your eyes. You hear the clink of Blaidds armor pass you to grab the bag. You hear it open and Blaidd rummage through it before finding what he needs.

You move your arm to peek open one eye to look at him, “Uh..Good luck with Radahn. Be careful.” You mutter, your throat is starting to feel sore from all the moaning and screaming you did.

“I will be. That bloody strange Tarnished is amongst the crowd. I’m sure he will join the battle, you needn’t worry about me.” Blaidd reassures before he looks you over. Wow, he really did do a number on you. You look thoroughly exhausted, and he can tell that you will probably be out of commission for a while.

Blaidd walks over and sees you lazily blink at him. “Once the battle is over, I’ll return here post haste.” Blaidd says with a smile, some of your blood sticking to his teeth. His tongue promptly going to lick it off.

You take a breath, “I’d like that, thanks…” You’d like it because you’d immediately know if Blaidd is alright. Your eyes droop again and a wave of exhaustion hits you with a groan. Your head falls back onto the hard ground, your eyes shutting.

Blaidd looks down at you with an amused huff. Now, he can’t just leave you naked on the ground now can he? He reaches up for that familiar fur cloak draped across his shoulders. He really won’t need it for the battle anyway, it could just get in his way.

The last thing you feel and see, is the press of his heavy fur cloak being carefully placed onto you. The warmth and weight of it is comforting. You watch blearily as Blaidd exits the tent. You can tell he put the rock weight back on, but from the outside. You sigh, letting yourself fall asleep. What a great friend he is.