Hey everyone, I'm at a camp in California, and I've been thinking about this little idea for a while. Don't worry, I am gonna work on my Doctor Who fanfiction, I just had to get this out of my system, its been in the back of my brain for like two months now, and I finally got inspiration for it.
It's inspired largely by the poem "Spirits of the Dead," by Edgar Allan Poe, and the little comic series by Artsed on Deviantart, called "The Curse."
I used "Spirits of the Dead" in snippets through the story, so the italicized and quoted words are parts of the poem.
Also, you have no clue how much it pisses me of that Artorias, Ciaran, and Gough are not on the characters list for Dark Souls. :(
Enjoy!
All I Wanted
A Dark Souls Short Story
"Thy soul shall find itself alone,
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone."
The scent of rotting flesh and corruption saturated the air like a merciless flood, reminding her painfully once more that he had been overcome.
The birds were silent, and all that could be heard was the howls of the distant and mutilated citizens of Oolacile.
She could feel nothing but anguish, filling her entire being painfully with its toxic essence, seeping into her very soul. Corrupting her with its humanity, just as it had done to him.
Her soul would not yield so readily to the foul Abyss.
"Not one, of all the crowd, to pry,
Into thine hour of secrecy."
His soul had held pity and forgiveness, human feelings her soul could never imagine possessing.
They believed it was what kept him safe from the terror of the Abyss.
But as she tinged the air's scent with her silent tears, she realized that they had been horribly wrong.
The humanity in his soul was what caused his decent into madness, tainted by the Abyss and whatever fetid being had power over it.
As the hours stretched into days, she could feel the insanity rising within herself.
She battled it, refusing to believe that there was any measure of humanity in herself.
She refused to believe that love would be her downfall.
"Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness, for then-
The spirits of the dead, who stood,
In life before thee, are again,
In death around thee, and their will,
Shall overshadow thee, be still."
Soon she lost track of time, trapped within her own decaying mind, slowly losing control of her thoughts and dreams.
Faces floated behind her swollen eyelids, the faces of her comrades, and, dare she say, friends.
They pleaded in her ears for her aide, crying out when she could give none.
She could feel the splatters of blood on her skin and smell the stench of fear and iron.
The heat of fire burned her skin and the squelch of crushing bones made her choke as Ornstein's uncharacteristically terrified cries filled her mind.
A low rumble filled her being and she suddenly felt blind, unable to locate the source of screaming as the roar of a dragon bellowed overhead. Panic filled her being, her eyes burned, and the world around her was black and unfamiliar. A sad, miserable sob reverberated through her thoughts.
Her body ached with dozens of lacerations and her arm was numb. Rage filled her being, fighting with the sanity within, and she shivered as an inhuman roar echoed through her mind, losing all control of her body as the pain faded away.
The Abyss was playing with her, she thought. She must leave. But she couldn't bring herself to leave that wretched coliseum.
So she remained in front of the paltry grave in Oolacile, able only to suffer hopelessly as the Abyss worked it's filthy essence into her body and mind.
"The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down."
Hope faded away faster with each passing day she remained by the grave, waning just as quickly as her sanity and the pale moon above.
She found herself trying to remember things from her childhood, any scrap of memory that might ward of the Abyss.
She smiled inwardly, remembering the day she met him so many years ago.
He'd wandered into Blighttown unknowingly, unarmed, and had almost been killed by the savage humans living in the putrid swamps.
They became friends after a while, and he saved her from the life of a pauper living in the swamps.
He took her to the surface, a place that always seemed so far away, and showed her the light of the sun.
She remembered grasping her precious Silver Tracer, forged in the fiery breath of a Cragspider and tainted with the toxic water of the swamp, determined to never return to her house that was not a home.
"From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like hope to mortals given,"
They'd spent some time together on the surface, living in the beautiful, thriving city that Undead Burg had once been. But a time came when they grew distant, due to a few awkward meetings and situations that neither of them wanted to admit they truly wanted.
Neither wanted to admit they'd been developing feelings for the other.
Their paths diverged, and it wasn't until many years later, upon the emergence of the ancient dragons and the rise of Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, that they met again.
It was the day of initiation for new knights, and he'd seen her standing by Gwyn's side, a silent and cold bodyguard to the comparatively warm and inviting man.
She'd seen him too, and she spent days trying to avoid running into him, to no avail.
Neither wanted to admit they'd missed the other dearly.
"But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever,
Which would cling to thee forever."
They fought the dragon war alongside unexpected allies.
Gough, a friendly giant from the north, ripped the wings from dragons with his gargantuan arrows, dooming them to a death at the hands of Ornstein, a frighteningly powerful lancemen clad in the armor of a golden lion, who tore the hearts from the dragons felled by Gough's great arrows.
Artorias would fly through the air with all the grace of a charging bull, swinging his greatsword wildly, but accurately, and all the dragons that stood in his way were quickly departed of their heads.
Comparatively, Ciaran played a small role, but a nonetheless important one, throwing knives with pinpoint accuracy into the hearts and heads of the smaller, surface bound drakes.
Together, along with Gwyn's black and silver knights, they wiped out the dragons that had been a plague to them for so long.
Though their biggest threat was gone, whispers of an Abyss spreading through nearby lands and the dead awakening from their eternal slumber assured them all that their work was not yet done.
"Now are thought thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish."
She frowned, remembering the concern she felt for Artorias when he'd returned from New Londo. He'd acted so strangely then, and he'd never been quite the same.
When he'd once again been called by Lord Gwyn to stay the spread of the Abyss, she was sure he would not return.
After all, Gough had not returned from Oolacile either.
She tried desperately to convince him not to go, but her efforts were wasted on him. He was too loyal to his Lord to not follow his orders.
She'd dreamt, day and night, of what might happen to him in Oolacile, wishing she'd had the courage to tell him what she'd always wanted to tell him.
She could hear the dread and hesitation in his voice when he'd told her she would be alright.
But she knew then that he'd never return, no matter how much she denied it.
"The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token."
She'd never expected what she'd found when she went to the cursed land that was Oolacile.
His voice was muddled with a menacing inhuman tone, and his actions were very unlike his nature.
She pulled her hand tentatively from her stomach to peer at the repulsive blood it was now covered with.
She felt a drip from her eye, reaching up to wipe away the offensive tear.
"How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!"
She slumped forward, peering at the gravestone with a smile of sadness. With each passing minute she could feel the darkness oozing up within her. Just as it had done to Artorias.
The lightest footsteps could be heard approaching, with the slightest chuckle gracing the hot, heavy air.
She reached out shakily to lay a hand on the tomb stone, letting the tears flow freely now.
She did not scream when the sword was plunged through her spine.
She grinned wickedly, the shadowy Abyss within her taking control at last.
"You humans… Always taking what you please."
She'd made up her mind. She would not die like this.
As the sword within her chest was retracted, a scream echoed in her tormented ears as she thrust her tracers into the knights chest.
She stood for a moment, and the nameless undead knight collapsed like a ragdoll at her feet.
She collapsed against the lonely gravestone, a sickening pool of blood and Abyss seeping from her wounds.
A cloud drifted in front of the sun, veiling the coliseum in a horrendous dark hue.
Her chin fell to her chest, and she heaved a difficult breathe.
Is this how we pay for what we've done?
Again the howls of the corrupted Oolacilians pounded her ears.
Is this our curse?
"My dear… Ar… tor… ias..."
She sighed, a warm feeling passing over her body, like a gentle breeze on a summer night.
"I have… al… ways… loved you…."