Unknown Time
Unknown Location
He could tell something was wrong the moment he woke up. First off, he was awake. That meant he was alive. As far as he knew, he was dead. Or, that's what he thought. He could still feel the hands that forced their way into his body, past his physical form, touching his very soul. He remembered the look on her pale, ash-colored face. She was digging for something inside of him, something attached to his very soul. Something he didn't know he had.
He had studied under her, not so long ago. He knew her daughters. Her eldest daughter had taught him the ways of Chaos, as he so easily controlled fire. Quelaag and Quelaan quickly gravitated towards him as well. Perhaps that was one of the reasons The Witch of Izalith could so easily torture and study him. Revenge, for befriending all three Daughters of Chaos and treating them as equals, instead of occult, unsavory people. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider with no true name and no memory.
He didn't know. He hadn't an idea as to why she acted the way she did. He knew how he ended up on that stone altar, though. He was defeated by people he considered to be his allies, and even friends. Jealousy. Not of him directly, but because he was romantically involved with someone they considered above his station in life, who one of them also held romantic feelings for. He held his own until the second one got involved. Then he went down quickly thanks to a cheap shot to the back of the head. The mere thought of it causes his head to ache.
He attempted to move his arms to grab his head, but found he was unable to. For the first time in what felt like years, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings and was both shocked and confused as to where he was. He was in a cell. Not just any cell, but a horrid, wretched cell which had clearly seen better days. He looked down at himself and realized he was being held against the wall by some kind of magic. Magic he couldn't break free of. His arms were outstretched and ankles were bound together. The more he struggled against the magic, the more pain he felt.
Several thoughts flashed through his mind. Where was she? Was she okay? Did they hurt her, too? Why did Lord Gwyn allow this? The more he thought, the more worried he became. Not for himself, but for the woman in his heart. He struggled against the magic more, ignoring the pain it was causing him. He had to find her. He had to make sure she was okay. As he struggled, the flesh where he was bound began to burn. It burned hot, which meant it was Chaos magic, the only kind of flame which could hurt him. Unable to get free, he yelled, hoping his words would reach her. "CIARA!"
She heard him. He didn't know it, but she could hear him as plain as day. To him, he was alone, locked away in that cell off in some forsaken place. To her, though, she was there with him. She didn't know how, but it was as if she were right there with him in person. She wasn't, of course. She knew that. Although she wasn't aware how long it was, she had spent what felt like an eternity floating through some in-between place, where there was no light, and there was no sound.
Something tried to take her. A black, oozing hand came out of nowhere and tried to take both her and Hawkeye. For some reason, the hand was forced to release her, as if touching her burned it. This left her in-between where ever the hand originated from and where she was, which was Oolacile. She and Hawkeye were tasked with finding Artorias, who had gone missing after being sent to stop the spread of the Abyss. He was the only one who could even tread the Abyss, thanks to the pact he made. Lord Gwyn had sent her and Gough to find him, as both Ornstein and Smough had gone missing previously while inside the supposedly safe walls of Anor Londo.
As much as she wished she could say he deserved whatever fate he and his large partner had met, she couldn't. She and Ornstein had been friends once. Due to her not reciprocating the feelings he had for her, instead choosing to act on her own feelings towards the nameless wanderer who had somehow washed up on the edge of Oolacile lake, she felt partly responsible for the path of corruption that Ornstein had gone down. However, she would never forgive him for what he did to Arcturus.
They were both outsiders to a certain extent. She, too, had been taken in by Lord Gwyn long ago. He had seen past the blood and violence she displayed when she slaughtered seven of his Silver Knights when they tried to force her from her temporary home she had made in New Londo. Instead of punishing her once she was finally apprehended, Lord Gwyn clothed, housed, and fed her. He offered her a spot at his table and a seat on his council, as well as offered her a position to be one of his personal Knights.
When Arcturus showed up, it was almost exactly the same. He was found dressed in foreign armor with many, many weapons strapped to his person. He had no memory and no name. In fact, the name 'Arcturus' was one she had given him. He had told her that it was the most precious thing he held, more so than the strange and foreign weapons he seemed to know intimately. The only bit of memory he did retain aside from his practical and combat skills were the names of his weaponry and armor. It warmed her heart to know that he cherished the name she had given him more than the only items he had which connected him to his unknown past.
His skill had surprised her. Her, and everyone else. Despite not having a memory, he was proficient with every weapon he had. More than that, he was able to summon and control fire, an art of magic called Pyromancy, something only those from Izalith were capable of, or so they thought. Even still, he learned at an alarmingly fast rate. However, he was never arrogant about these things. In fact, he was quite humble about everything he did, unless the two of them were alone. Even when they first met, he was kind to her, more so than any native to Lordran had been on her first encounter. The fact that she was an elf didn't bother him in the slightest. Neither did the size of the Lords and their kin, but that was most likely due to the fact that he was on more equal footing than she was. He was even kind to Gwyndolin, Anor Londo's very own pariah.
He was large. Not as large as Artorias, but not nearly as small as a normal human. He was strong, as well. Stronger than he should be. That's why it both shocked and hurt her to have the sudden blackness of the in-between area cut to Arcturus. Gone was his Heide Knight armor, as he called it. Instead, he was dressed in Fallen Knight armor, popular among those who have fled the war between Lordran and the Everlasting Dragons. He was held against a wall by some kind of Chaos magic, and he looked weak. For the first time ever, he looked weak.
The cloth of her mask soaked up the tears she shed when he called out to her. She had tried to interact with him, but instead of freeing him or even touching him, she passed right through. She was still in the in-between, only now she could see the person she cared for most. Her tears fell even more freely when she saw the Chaos magic burn him as he struggled to get free. She wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him she was okay, but she couldn't. She could only sit and watch as the illusion of Arcturus faded away.
1000 Years Ago
Anor Londo
He was aware of several voices above his body, their footsteps echoing loudly inside his mind as they walked around his body on the harsh, rocky ground beneath him. He felt weak, like he had been battling non-stop for years. He felt so weak that it was painful for him to attempt to open his eyes, or make sense of the words being spoken above him. He felt his body being moved suddenly, onto his back. For a split second, his eyes opened to see a young woman with dazzling yellow eyes, a head full of blonde hair, and pointed ears. He fell into a deep sleep, his final conscious thoughts being of how beautiful the woman was.
"He doesn't remember anything?" Lord Gwyn asked, incredulously.
Lord's Blade Ciaran shook her head "He seems to know his weapons. He can speak and seems to know basic skills and such, but he has no memory of who he is or where he is from" she said, her head bowed to her Lord.
Lord Gwyn huffed. Ciaran and Artorias returned from Oolacile with someone they had found near the Great Lake of Oolacile. He apparently had a large amount of weapons on his person, most of which their resident blacksmith knew nothing about. He wore armor that was clearly uniform in appearance despite it's ragged condition, though neither he nor anyone else knew where the armor was from. Even more peculiar was the fact that none of the locals of Oolacile had any idea who he was.
"Clearly, he came from somewhere," Artorias said, just as confused as the rest of them "The Great Lake connects to many rivers and seas. Perhaps he came from someplace across the water?"
Ornstein shook his head, clearly in disagreement. "No. His armor is much too heavy, as are his weapons. He would have sank to the bottom. Did he say anything else, Ciaran?"
The entire table, comprised of Lord Gwyn's small council, turned to look at her. She blushed, brushing stray strands of hair over her ear. "Just that my hair was beautiful" she said in a small voice.
This brought a hearty laugh from Lord Gwyn. Ornstein was less pleased about it, but made no outward signs of such. The table's focus shifted to The Witch of Izalith, the woman whose name was only known to Lord Gwyn, when she made a noise as if to get back to the topic at hand.
"His weapons aren't from here. I've studied them, used my magic to locate their source, and they're simply not from here." She said, clearly getting to a larger point. "The problem is the here. As in, this place, but more importantly this time. It's as if he's from another era altogether."
This brought great pause to everything there. They all knew there was great danger in messing with time. The Everlasting Dragons proved as such. They had played a game with time and were granted immortality. However, they were turned to stone, never to feel anything but hate ever again. This is what had lead to their current war with the Dragons, who had since risen an army of hollowed undead, humans which had been cursed to live beyond their initial death, losing their humanity in the process.
As if to get back to the time before they were Everlasting, the Dragons created the Drakes, which were smaller in comparison and came in various shapes and sizes. They were failed experiments, having none of the answers the dragons sought. These Drakes were not to be trifled with however, as each of them held the potential to be as dangerous as the Dragons themselves once they reached maturity. This is why they were currently seeking the help of Gravelord Nito. Lord Gwyn and The Witch of Izalith were powerful, but the numbers simply were not on their side. Nito was the first of the dead, and as such is extremely powerful. He had yet to pledge his support, but they knew he had no love for the Everlasting Dragons. They deprived him of the one source that fueled him: The dead.
When a dragon or drake kills humans, they somehow infuse some of their magic in them, creating undead thralls to bolster their numbers. Because of this, they were separating a soul from it's humanity. The undead were not soulless. When an undead is killed, it's soul is absorbed by the dragon or drake that turned it, rather than going to Nito. Gravelord Nito is said to be fueled by souls, making what the Dragons are doing a threat to his very being.
"Lord Gwyn, I'd like more time to study this wanderer. His weapons alone hold great power, and as they are connected to him, he must hold tremendous strength. If I can study him and find out the source of his power, perhaps I can find a way to-"
"No." Lord Gwyn cut the Witch off, denying her any further right to speak of such things. "Starting now, he is my ward. You will not study him. In fact, nobody is to speak of this again. This is a dangerous thing, and I will not see everything we have built torn asunder by messing with the fabric of time like the Everlasting Dragons did."
"But-" The Witch of Izalith was cut off again as Lord Gwyn's hands slammed down onto the large wooden table, causing it to shake at the force he displayed
"I said no! There will be no further discussion on the matter."
The ashen-skinned woman held her tongue, but her thoughts ran wild.
"You're getting better" A soft, melodic voice broke through the sound of his heavy breathing. He was on his hands and knees, struggling to catch his breath.
Quelana laughed softly, patting him on the head. It had been several weeks since Lord Gwyn took in the wanderer, and since then he had somehow wormed his way into the hearts of Quelana and her sisters, as well as a certain blonde haired assassin. He had surprised her when he treated her with respect and dignity, where as most people of Lordran treated those from Izalith like monsters.
"Yeah.. Maybe once I get through all this torture you're putting me through I'll actually start learning something" He said, having to stop every few words to take in a breath or two. Though he easily grasped normal Pyromancy, Chaos magic was another beast entirely. Incidentally, it was also the only kind of fire that could seem to harm him, as not even Dragonfire burned him.
Another soft laugh could be heard coming from under her gold-hemmed, black hood. "Torture, training, what's the difference?"
This caused him to laugh as well, knowing that there really wasn't much difference depending on how hard one was training. He heard footsteps approaching, only to look up and see both of Quelana's sisters looking at him with a small amount of pity.
"Such a poor boy. Is Quelana being mean to you?" Quelaag, the raven haired older sister asked. Behind her, Quelaan fidgeted. Quelaan was shy, even overly so. As such, Quelaag took up the duty of being the protective older sister.
Though she was shy, she felt brave around him ever since he had shown that he was a kind soul. "I-It's good to see you, Arcturus."
He stood to his feet, easily dwarfing the three small women in front of him. "It's good to see you too, Quelaan." he said, smiling and maintaining eye contact.
His smile broadened when he saw the hint of a blush creep onto her face. He wasn't teasing her, but he did like to make her blush. She told him in some confidence while Quelaag wasn't around that the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful. His response was to tell her that was because she is beautiful. Ever since then, he had done his best to remind her of that every chance he got.
Quelaag simply huffed, not used to being treated well by others nor seeing her sisters treated well. Arcturus was an oddity wrapped in an enigma that she simply didn't understand, but that just made it even easier to gravitate towards him. She turned her attention to her sister "Quelana, mother wants to see you. Something about Brother."
Quelana nodded. "I guess that's it for the day, Arcturus. You did well."
He laughed, clearly not in agreement "No. Once I'm able to cast three Chaos spells in a row, that's when I'll be doing well."
She nodded in agreement of his own assessment, though she felt he was too hard on himself. He was one of the very few not from Izalith who could even grasp the idea of Pyromancy, not to mention Chaos magic. Even still, aside from the Daughters of Chaos and their mother, he was the only one they knew who so intimately grasped control of fire.
He watched as the three Daughters of Chaos walked away. Though he wasn't entirely sure, he thought he saw some extra sway in their hips.
"They love you, you know."
Arcturus turned away from the retreating forms of the Daughters of Chaos to see Ciaran some feet away, sitting on a large rock. He didn't even sense her presence. "Do they?" He said, more of a statement than a question.
Ciaran hopped off the rock and walked to him "Of course. You're the first man to show them anything close to kindness. Even Quelaag cares for you, however well she chooses to hide it."
Arcturus rolled his eyes, knowing even if she were right, they were too far above his station for anything to come of it. Still, he was curious to know what someone from the outside thought. "Even Quelana?" He asked, knowing full well that Quelaan's feelings were obvious even to him.
Ciaran nodded "Especially Quelana. You control fire, even better than you may realize. She never had anyone outside of Izalith to share things with. Not until you came around."
He said nothing, choosing to shrug instead, not understanding the importance of the connection he had to the Daughters of Chaos. To him, he didn't know why people from Izalith were treated badly outside of their domain, nor did he feel it was right to.
"Lord Gwyn sent me to fetch you." She said, changing the topic "He wants you ready to channel lightning by the next battle."
Arcturus nodded, motioning Ciaran to lead the way.
"How is your training with Gravelord Nito?"
Ciaran shrugged. "It's hard to train with someone who isn't able to be near you without killing you."
He nodded. Nito was cursed to kill whatever he touched. He had been trying to teach Ciaran how to call forth his Gravelord swords through an intermediary. He had faith she would be able to complete the training, but he hoped that she would be able to do so before things became too dire in their war with the Everlasting Dragons.
It was a long way back to Anor Londo, and the silence between them was an awkward one. They both had things they wanted to say, but neither of them felt able enough to start. It was a recent development, one which was unwelcome to the both of them as they were incredibly close prior, something that puzzled those around them due to Arcturus only having recently arrived.
She stopped suddenly, him almost not stopping in time to prevent running into her. She turned her head and looked up into his eyes, as if issuing a challenge. "Is this how it's going to be now? We kiss, and then you suddenly act like it never happened?"
He sighed, hoping this wouldn't be brought up. "If I recall correctly, you disappeared for almost an entire week after that evening. I assumed it was a post-battle, spur of the moment type deal that you regret."
This caused her to falter, looking away from him guiltily. "I'm sorry" she said, her voice only slightly louder than a whisper. "I didn't know what to do. Kissing you in front of everyone like that was a huge risk. It could have gotten you executed."
Not quite knowing why, he stepped forward and pulled her to his chest. She quickly wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug.
"It's okay" he whispered "I'm not worried about it, so you shouldn't be either" She nodded into his chest, but said nothing.
"Ciara" he said, using her real name, "No more hiding. No more disappearing."
She stiffened, not used to hearing her true name spoken. She had told him her true name when she had given him his. Other than Artorias and Lord Gwyn, nobody else knew her by any name other than 'Ciaran' and she preferred it that way. After all, in the wrong hands her name could be used against her, just like with any of her kind.
His follow-up words melted away any resistance she had been holding onto. Before she could say anything, however, he pulled his body away from hers. She was confused and slightly hurt until he took her hand in his and pulled her along, continuing the long walk back to Anor Londo.
"Watch your flank!" Arcturus bellowed, using the handle of his Great Scythe to extend his already long reach, cutting down several Hollowed Undead which were about to pounce on Ciaran from behind. The assassin whipped around after cutting down her current target just in time to see a shower of blood and bodies be thrown to the side, many of them cut in half thanks to the force and sharpness of the Great Scythe.
She looked to Arcturus, hidden behind his Heide Great Helm and nodded in appreciation before leaping into the air to cut apart a fairly large Hollowed Undead that Artorias had sent flying their way. Ornstein could be seen in the front of the line, surrounded by Silver Knights, thrusting his spear through several undead and unleashing lightning from the tip at the ones who couldn't be impaled.
In the distance, Hawkeye could be seen with a group of Silver Knight Archers, shooting giant arrows from their Great Bows with amazing precision, grounding flying drakes for Sif, wolf partner of Artorias, to finish off with his incredibly powerful jaws and teeth. Below Hawkeye's position a massive, raging battle could be seen. Thousands upon thousands of hollowed undead, led by the few remaining Everlasting Dragons, supplemented by the mindless drakes.
Lord Gwyn could be seen standing above a horde of knights below, throwing countless spears of lightning at the giant, oversized flying reptiles in the sky. Next to him stood The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, stood in a circle, chanting a spell to call forth an incredibly powerful magic which required absolute concentration by all of them.
Arcturus and Ciaran stood back-to-back, surrounded by undead. Realizing the danger, they called forth the powers which they had been training to use for some time now. Arcturus stabbed his Great Scythe into the ground and pulled on the string that connects him to the realm of Chaos, calling forth a circular wall of flame up around them, instantly rendering all of their immediate attackers to ash and preventing any more getting close to them for the time being.
While Arcturus drew his Claymore to prepare for a much more claustrophobic battle, Ciaran threw her hands to the ground and called forth the Blades of the Gravelord, which could be seen outside the wall of flame cutting down the numbers of undead surrounded them. To her back, Arcturus once more called upon the flame, imbuing his Claymore with that power. As his blade ignited with flames, the wall of fire around them fell, and the undead charged.
Arcturus swept his claymore at the ankles of the first wave of undead, severing their feet from their bodies, creating a temporary albeit weak wall between him and the next wave of attackers as the undead quickly climbed over their fallen comrades. As the next wave approached, he swung his blade to the side, releasing a wave of fire that flew out towards the creatures, sticking to their skin and burning them to ashes.
Ciaran quickly and majestically dispatched the undead in her way, flipping and spinning, cutting apart any enemy that dared stand in her way, almost dancing through the strikes made against her. In her wake, gold and silver followed her strikes. Using her agility, she quickly pulled out her talisman and once more called upon the Blades of the Gravelord, this time directing the red ethereal blades to spring up from the ground repeatedly, impaling the attackers closest to her.
Suddenly, a cry of woe could be heard amongst the ranks as several Silver Knights watched helplessly as a fairly large Drake had pinned Artorias to the ground, the only thing keeping it from killing him was his hands around it's snout and neck, preventing it from either breathing fire or going for his throat. Whenever a knight would go to assist, he would be torn apart by the stronger undead close to the drake.
Ciaran looked to Artorias. Knowing she'd never get through the field full of enemies in time to help, she called for aid. "Arcturus, Artorias needs us!" she yelled. Just as Arcturus finished cutting down the last undead near them, he looked up to see the situation. Knowing instantly what to do, he kicked the handle of his Great Scythe which flew up into the air and fell back into his hand. He beckoned for Ciaran to approach.
"Even together we won't make it through in time. Stand on the end of my scythe. We're trying something new." He said, pulling the blade on the ground sideways. Without question, having complete faith in Arcturus, she did. They shared a look and smiled. "I hope you're not afraid of heights."
With that, he pulled forward on the handle with great force and strength, flinging her high and far into the air. She noted his aim was as good as ever as she quickly flew over the battlefield. As Ciaran hit the drake, she stabbed both of her blades, one gold and one dark silver, into the creature's skull, piercing the brain and killing it instantly. Artorias grunted his thanks and lifted the body off of him after Ciaran hopped off of it.
The Everlasting Dragons, seeing their army of undead and drakes quickly falling to Gwyn and his forces, called a retreat. The indoctrinated undead and mindlessly loyal drakes quickly stopped fighting and withdrew as fast as possible to preserve their numbers. Seeing this, a roar of victorious cheers came from Gwyn's army. Though they cheered, they knew it was only a matter of time before the Everlasting Dragons would be back with larger numbers.
Arcturus quickly made his way over to Ciaran and Artorias. Before he could, a path opened up between the swathe of Silver Knights, allowing Lord Gwyn through. When he stopped in front of Arcturus, the man who once had no name fell to his knee in a sign of respect. However, he was shocked to feel Lord Gwyn's hand on his shoulder in a warm manner and even more so at his words.
"Arcturus, you continue to impress me. That bit with Ciaran and your scythe was, although risky and dangerous, an amazing feat. At this rate you'll be more than deserving of becoming my fifth knight."
After a single pat on the shoulder, Lord Gwyn carried on. When Arcturus rose, he was immediately hit in the head by a blunt object. Nursing his head, he turned to see Ornstein. Although he couldn't see his expression thanks to his menacing helmet, he knew there was a scowl on his face.
"The only thing you're deserving of is to be tossed out of Anor Londo once this war is over. You're not one of us. You don't belong here. You-" He stopped, seeing Ciaran approaching. He knew that his words would offend her. She herself was an outsider, but she was different. He quickly walked away, not wanting to be put on the spot should Arcturus speak out.
A final glance backwards made his blood boil. They had embraced each other. The trespasser had his arms and hands on the body of the woman he loved. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run Arcturus through with his spear. However, that had to wait. As he left the battlefield, his partner, Smough, quickly followed.
The moment Arcturus broke his embrace with Ciaran, he was nearly tackled by another woman with white hair and ashen skin, an act of affection which was not known to come from the woman in his arms, Quelaan. Nevertheless, he embraced her as Ciaran looked on in amusement and the girl's sisters, Quelana and Quelaag came walking up to him.
"I did it" she said, looking up at him with her wide, bright eyes. "I actually helped this time. I wasn't nervous at all!"
Arcturus chuckled, releasing her and patting her on the head affectionately. "I saw. In fact, I'm sure almost everyone saw. Your help made a world of difference."
She nodded quickly, before realizing who she was so close to and her shyness got the better of her and she quickly made room between them, looking at the floor with a crimson blush on her face. Unseen by her, Arcturus looked up at her sisters and shrugged, one which said 'It's progress'
The Great Hall of Anor Londo was filled with tables, on which sat heaps of food for Anor Londo's occupants to feast upon. Lord Gwyn had decided to host such a feast on the suggestion of The Witch of Izalith, though her influence on the matter was unknown to the majority of those present. The mood among those in attendance was good. So good, in fact, that the presence of the Daughters of Chaos was not only openly accepted, but welcomed.
After all, many of them were witness to what came of their spellcasting. It was a spectacular sight which took place on the opposite side of the battlefield from where Artorias, Arcturus, and Ciaran were. A massive fissure opened up in the ground underneath a particularly large group of hollows, causing a large group of them to fall in. However, amazing part was the giant wall of intense flames that spouted out of the ground. The flame erupted with such force that it caused additional, smaller fissures to break off from the primary source. In a show of skill, talent, and power, the Daughters of Chaos directed these additional fissures to surround, entrap, and burn their enemies to ashes, while being careful not to harm their allies.
So, word quickly got around that perhaps those from Izalith were not quite so bad after all. Although there was a long way to go, it was a massive stride forward in building good relations between the two realms. There would always be holdouts who would continue to think badly about outsiders, but with a little luck and a lot of hard work they would be among the minority.
To an outsider with no knowledge of Lordran, a view of the hall could be considered humorous. Many people of many different sizes at different sized tables, all conversing with each other. Small human servants, towering Lords, and all those in-between were treated as equals during this feast.
At an in-between sized table near the front, Arcturus sat with Artorias, Ciaran, and the Daughters of Chaos, with Sif sitting obediently beside the table waiting to be fed his share of the meal, as usual.
"So, where did you come up with that insane idea, Arcturus?" Artorias asked, referencing what he did with Ciaran to save Artorias from an overly aggressive drake.
"What idea?" Quelaan asked, not having seen or heard of what was being discussed. She suddenly felt very embarrassed as all eyes at the table were on her. She had been too engrossed with maintaining her concentration on her spellwork to notice, where as her sisters were more experienced and were able to pay attention to things happening around them as well as control Chaos magic.
"What, you didn't see it?" Artorias asked, a great deal of humor in his voice. "Arcturus saved my neck, literally might I add, by somehow making Ciaran fly across the battlefield to kill a nasty drake."
The girl's eyes widened and looked at Arcturus, who scratched his cheek and looked away. Artorias continued "From what I understand he took Ciaran here" he paused, patting the woman on the shoulder "and used his scythe to fling her into the air. Quite honestly he's explained it three times now and I still don't understand how it worked out how it did."
"Arcturus?"
The man in question smirked and looked to her. "I just told her to get onto the blade and pulled really hard. It's not that hard to understand. Artorias just isn't able to understand because he's used to hitting things with his Greatsword."
This brought about a hearty laugh from everyone at the table, even Artorias. He wasn't wrong, after all. He didn't understand a great deal of what Arcturus did or was capable of, preferring a much more simple approach. Were their positions reversed, he probably would have gone the route of fighting through the enemies in the way, though he would likely be much quicker than they would have.
It was night time in Anor Londo. The feast was long over and people were making their way back to their rooms and bunks. Arcturus and Ciaran were taking a walk outside along the long bridge with the rotating pillars.
".. And the look on his face? Priceless." Arcturus said, finishing the story of the first time he manipulated his size, changing between a standard human size to one equal to Artorias.
"The poor boy must have been mortified" Ciaran said after letting out a soft laugh. As they walked, they stood close together, one of Ciaran's arms locked with one of his. Occasionally, her head would lean on his shoulder during their slow walk in the cool night air. To an outsider, were any watching, one might think that they were married.
Suddenly, they stopped. Ciaran looked up at him and followed his eyes, leading her to see Gwyndolin standing a few feet in front of them. Gwyndolin was cloaked in white, as was usual, with the Crown of the Dark Sun resting upon Gwyn's youngest child's upper portion of their face.
"Hello, Arcturus" he said, his voice soft and affectionate. Due to having an affinity for the moon instead of the sun, Gwyndolin was raised as a daughter and held a very feminine appearance. Even his voice was that of a woman's. It was difficult to remember that Gwyndolin was male when he held such feminine beauty.
"Hello Gwyndolin" Arcturus said, forgoing the title most address him by. "I wish you had made yourself visible at the feast tonight."
On the sidelines, Ciaran stood still and silent. She was not like Arcturus. She didn't have the ability to so casually address one of Gwyn's children. Even still, she smiled softly. Arcturus was the first person aside from her to be able to see Gwyndolin when he uses his illusions. Typically, Gwyndolin used his abilities to hide himself away from everyone, only appearing when asked to by Lord Gwyn.
Gwyndolin shook his head softly. "Father invited me, but I felt it best to stay hidden. It was a feast for heroes."
"If that's what it was, you belonged there. Your illusions kept the undead clear long enough for me and Ciaran to save Artorias." His words came as a surprise to Ciaran, not having known that was why their immediate area was kept clear of enemies for that short time. She had been too focused on making to to Artorias.
A small smile graced the lips of Gwyndolin. He hadn't expected Arcturus to have noticed that. He held no physical prowess, his fighting ability relying on magic and illusions. He had been told to stay off the battlefield by his father, but instead hid himself behind a powerful illusion and did what he could to help. When he saw what Arcturus was planning, he used his power to create the illusion of a wall of fire behind them, visible only to their enemies. That had kept them away long enough for Arcturus to launch Ciaran into the air.
"Perhaps, but only you two would know. Not even Father is fully aware of my presence when I put so much power into my illusions." Gwyndolin said, looking down at his soft, pale hands. "Regardless, I come to you tonight to warn you. Ornstein has been very distraught. His emotions are ruling his thoughts, and it may not be long until he lashes out. Please, be careful"
Though Ciaran's eyes went wide, Arcturus was calm as always. He simply nodded, saying "Thank you for the warning, Gwyndolin. I'll keep my eyes open."
Gwyndolin nodded. Ornstein's animosity towards Arcturus was veiled and hidden to most, but he knew better. The case of Ornstein's hatred for the man before him was a curious one. It had first been slight jealousy, but practically overnight morphed into a deep, burning hatred. As Arcturus was his only friend and the object of his hidden affections, he couldn't allow for Arcturus to go into their coming fight blind.
As Gwyndolin turned to leave, he stopped when Ciaran spoke to him for the first time. "Lord Gwyndolin.. Thank you."
Gwyndolin said nothing and resumed leaving, a small smile on his face. He held no ill-will for the assassin, which had become the object of Arcturus's affection. He knew she could see him, ever since the first day she was in Anor Londo. At first, he felt jealous that Arcturus had focused his attention on Ciaran. However, after a long discussion in the middle of the night, he was put at ease. He was still slightly jealous, but knew that the man's heart belonged to her.
Gwyndolin couldn't blame her. She was beautiful. Graceful. Powerful. He knew that he also held all these qualities. Alas, he was not a woman despite his upbringing. He didn't blame his father for that, nor his mother, who he did not know. It was simply a fact of life. He had found that no matter how strong his illusions, he could not transform into a woman. Something prevented such, despite him being a god.
As Gwyndolin disappeared into the dark of the night, Arcturus and Ciaran shared their second kiss. Far off in the distance, Ornstein was looking at the romantic scene with great anger. He couldn't explain why. Normally, while he might be jealous, he'd never hold such hatred for Arcturus. However, something changed inside of him. Somewhere along the way, the jealousy gave way to hatred. He vowed to end Arcturus and show Ciaran how he was the only one worthy of her love.
What he didn't know was the magic influencing his emotions. Powerful, incredible magic. The Witch of Izalith had gotten her claws on him, part of her plan to study the outsider. As soon as his emotions boiled over, he'd do whatever it took to beat him down, and then he'd take Arcturus to her. She had even made sure he had the proper equipment to ensure that their little fight was undisturbed. An eye orb unlike any other. It would pull anyone in contact with it's user to a closed off realm, where Arcturus would have his strength sapped to fuel the magic.
Once he was beaten, she'd pull him to Izalith. Her domain. She'd study him to her heart's content, and then she'd kill him. If she couldn't, she'd cast him away. His trust in her was all for naught. She had initially taught him the ways of Chaos, and then had her daughters teach him in her stead when she became too preoccupied. This served as to allow his guard to drop around her and her kind, as he held a certain fondness for her girls.
He had walked Ciaran to her room, as usual. This night, however, she lingered at the door, her hands in his. "Come inside?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. Even in his human size, he was much taller than her. She watches as his eyes showed desire, but also doubt.
"Ciara.. You know I can't. It's dangerous for me to even kiss you, but this? We could both be executed." He said, breaking their eye contact. However, it was quickly restored when one of her hands left his and reached up, caressing his cheek. He shuddered as her thumb stroked his face slightly.
"It could. But it won't. You heard Lord Gwyn. You'll officially be one of his knights soon. There's nothing to worry about." She said in a whisper, despite nobody being around. "I want this, Arcturus. I want to feel you. Again and again. Forever."
A pregnant moment of silence between them was broken when he slowly reached down, his hands gliding down her back, over her perfectly sized rear end, and found purchase on the backside of her thighs. He quickly lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his midsection while her arms snaked their way around his neck.
Their lips met in a hungry, demanding kiss while he ushered them into her room, closing the door behind them with his foot. As they broke their kiss to take in some air, he looked around the room and saw it lit up with slow-burning candles. She had planned this, it seems. He slowly, delicately, lovingly pulled at her clothing. Gone was her armor, having chosen to wear a simple dark blue gown for the feast. Likewise, he had chosen a simple tunic and pants.
As the second shoulder strap was eased off of her body, the gown fell to the floor and pooled around her feet. He was shocked to see that she hadn't worn any underclothes. Her hand came to rest on the bulge of his pants, eliciting a groan from Arcturus.
"Don't you think you're a little overdressed?" She asked, tugging at the string of his pants. As he pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor, the knot holding his pants tight came undone. He quickly stepped out of his shoes before Ciaran fell to her knees and slowly pulled his pants down. She was graced with his massive, throbbing erection when she looked upwards.
She gave him a sultry smile.
Outside, Ornstein was fuming. He had watched from afar as they entered her room together. He would lose her this night. The very idea of Arcturus being intimate with Ciaran drove him into the very depths of hatred. The grip on his spear was so strong that the metal of the spear's shaft crumpled under his strength.
Beside him, Smough looked on forlornly. Ornstein had been his companion for as long as he could remember, and it hurt him to see the once proud knight like this. However, he held a sneaking suspicion that this was not all due to Ornstein's own feelings. Rather, he believed that there was something else to this puzzle. Nonetheless, he would continue to follow Ornstein wherever this may lead, regardless of the consequences.
A gasp escaped Ciara's throat as they came together again. She had never in her wildest dreams thought something could feel so euphoric. Her eyes broke contact with his to look at their joining. There was a moment where Arcturus was worried he might not fit, but that worry was abated when she told him just how pliable her body could be. Even still, he found that she was extremely tight.
She could feel every inch, every bump, every little nudge of his member as it slid in and out of her at a steady pace. She could feel as each time he was fully hilted the tip would brush up against something inside of her, sending shocks of ecstasy through her. This feeling was multiplied as his hands roamed her body and his lips kissed her neck.
They could both feel that this was meant to be. Everything about it felt right, From the way her nails scratched his back to the gentleness he showed her. It was perfect. They were a perfect match. They'd never be willingly kept apart again.
Their mutual climaxes were building inside of them. Each time they felt that they were about to explode, however, they continued to climb even higher, and each little movement, each act of love, felt even better than the one before. Higher and higher they climbed, with no indication of stopping.
Gwyndolin watched Ornstein closely. Something was influencing him, but he was unable to ascertain as to what that was. He knew that soon all that manufactured anger and hatred would boil over and someone was going to get hurt. He had approached his father about this before, requesting that Ornstein be broken of whatever had hold of his emotions, but his father would not allow it. Ornstein was too important to the war effort.
Of course, his father was correct. Were Ornstein to be out of commission, they ran the risk of taking heavy losses in their next skirmish with the Dragons. Gwyndolin knew this. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't keep a watchful eye on the man. In fact, his father suggested it. It was the first time in ages where his father had trusted him with a task. He would not fail.
She was on top of him now, her lithe body rocking on his member. Though they were going slower, the feeling of absolute bliss hadn't stopped growing. Neither of them expected this kind of feeling, but they weren't about to stop it. As she gyrated her hips and continued to rise and fall on his rod, she was leant over, her hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating at a rapid pace through one of her palms. She was sure her heart felt the same way.
Wanting him to know as such, she took one of his hands from her hips and brought it to her chest, pressing it directly against where her heart was located. If they weren't so distracted, they'd have noticed the sharp, sudden change in the atmosphere around them. It was as if the very fabric of time and reality had cracked. Their hearts began to beat at the exact same pace, at the exact same time.
However, they were too lost in the other's eyes. They could feel their mutual climax approaching. It was going to be explosive. Arcturus' hips began to move in time with Ciaran's rise and fall. Ciara leaned forwards and kissed him one more time before it hit them both.
Ciara's body arced backwards and she let out a primal, euphoric scream of pleasure up into the air above them. Arcturus held tight onto her hips, buried deep inside of her as he, too, let out a primal sound, this one a roar. Her inner walls squeezed extremely tightly as his member throbbed and released his seed into her.
Unbeknownst to them, in that moment they were joined together in more ways than one.
Arcturus awoke to the feeling of Ciara's supple body pressed tightly against him, one of her arms draped across his chest in a loving, protective manner. He felt good. Happy. Content. However, he knew that soon enough they'd both be feeling hungry. As much as he wished to stay wrapped up with Ciara for the rest of eternity, he thought he'd do the romantic gesture of providing breakfast in bed for her.
Getting out of her embrace, dressed, and out of her room without waking her was a slow and careful task, but he managed. He took one look back at Ciara's beautiful sleeping form before heading out to get them both some nourishment. He didn't know that Ornstein was going to make certain that would be the last time he ever laid eyes on her.
As Arcturus made his way down to the kitchen to grab some of whatever the servants had made that morning, he was ambushed. All too suddenly he was grabbed and pulled through dimensions thanks to a black orb that his would-be captor was holding.
Emerging from the other side, he was thrown harshly into a pillar. The air rushed out of his lungs and he struggled to get to his feet after falling to his knees. He raised his head to see Ornstein in full battle gear. He noted that they were somehow still in Anor Londo, but that this was not the same one he had just been in. Everything was dark, and Ornstein had a crimson aura coming off of him.
"You're never going to defile her body again." Ornstein's voice rang out, echoing around them thanks to the empty Grand Hall. "I'm going to skewer you and then give you over to that Witch so she can figure out what makes you tick"
Arcturus' eyes widened. The Witch of Izalith? What did she have to do with this? He rose to his feet with some amount of struggle, realizing that whatever that orb was, was sapping his strength somehow. Arcturus reached deep inside and pulled forth his own battle gear from the void, his 'Heide Knight' armor appearing on his body and his 'Heide Knight' sword appearing in his hand.
Ornstein growled at this. He was told that the Black Eye Orb would prevent Arcturus from using the 'Equip Magic' that he and all other powerful entities were able to use. 'No matter' Ornstein thought 'He's weak. He won't put up much of a fight'
"I don't know why your jealousy has driven you this far, Ornstein, but I'm not going to let you take what isn't yours. Ciaran isn't an object that can be stolen. She's a person just as much as you or I" Arcturus said, falling into a strong defensive stance.
This only enraged Ornstein further, prompting his first attack. He thrust forward with his spear, allowing it's incredible momentum to carry him along. He'd end this quickly. Or, so he thought.
Despite his disadvantage, Arcturus blocked the blow and made to counterattack, his Heide Knight sword scratching Ornstein's armor as he just barely had time to jump out of the way.
'How is this possible? He should be as weak as a child!'
Even still, Ornstein recovered from this shock. He called forth the power of lightning and channeled it to the tip of his spear. Pointing it directly at Arcturus, he unleashed an incredibly powerful bolt of electricity at the man. Arcturus, knowing that very specific stance, just barely managed to dodge the attack. 'So it's not just my strength. I'm slower than I should be as well'
Just as he recovered, Ornstein was on him again, bringing his bladed spear down to cleave the smaller man in half. Once more, Arcturus surprised Ornstein by being able to block the attack, his free hand braced against the flat of his blade to distribute the force of the blow more evenly.
Arcturus used every ounce of his strength to counter, pushing back and away, forcing Ornstein away from him lest he be injured. Arcturus raised his free hand and summoned a second weapon. A second Straight Sword of different design. Ornstein recognized it instantly. It was his 'Lothric Knight' Sword.
Arcturus changed his stance from an defensive one to an offensive one. If Ornstein wouldn't listen to reason, he'd just have to beat some sense into him. He shot forward in a burst of speed despite his handicap and attacked, one of his blades slamming into the larger man's spear while he thrust his other blade forward, intent on disabling Ornstein. However, he was unable to do so. His attacks didn't have the strength behind them that they usually would, so Ornstein was able to counter and riposte, slamming the butt of his spear into his stomach and sending him flying, both of his blades falling out his grasp.
Not to be deterred, Arcturus summoned his Astora Greatsword and stabbed it into the ground, preventing him from flying back further. Then, flames shot down the length of the blade and into the ground. Ornstein barely had time to feel the rumbling beneath him to dodge the geyser of flame that erupted from the spot where he just stood.
Ornstein charged forward, spear in hand, intent on skewering the smaller man. However, he stopped dead on his tracks when Arcturus called forth his own Lightning, a spear forming in his outstretched hand.
'What? According to that Witch, he hasn't been able to use Lord Gwyn's gift in a combat situation before!'
Arcturus threw the spear, it narrowly grazing the faceplate of Ornstein's helmet. Beneath the lion-shaped visage, Ornstein smirked. His throw was off. He didn't even need to dodge. Not allowing Arcturus to try again, he thrust his spear forward, impaling Arcturus with the tip of his spear. 'Victory'
"This was more trouble than I was lead to believe. Perhaps you'd have even made a good Fifth Knight with a few dozen more years of practice. But that doesn't matter now. Nobody will ever see you again." Ornstein said smugly as he twisted the spear lodged in Arcturus' gut, causing him to cry out in pain. It was music to his ears.
He stopped smiling. Something was wrong. He looked down to Arcturus to see his hands wrapped around the spear, blood running down his arms from touching the razor edge. In his hands, he saw a glowing white light. His eyes widened as he made to move.
"Too late" Arcturus said, his voice hoarse and ragged sounding.
An explosive release of energy blasted Ornstein back, his spear flying across the room with him. Unable to recover in time, his back slammed against the giant metal doors that shut off the entrance to the Great Hall, denting them severely. After falling down from such a height, his spear clattered to the ground beside him.
Arcturus stood, his wounds seemingly no hamper on his ability to do so. As Ornstein looked on while struggling to rise to his feet, he noticed that Arcturus had cauterized the wound shut with his own Pyromancy. He then watched as Arcturus summoned another one of his weapons, this one an incredibly large and heavy weapon, his 'Pursuer's Ultra Greatsword'
Despite it's size and weight, Arcturus held it outstretched in one hand, pointing towards him. "You've spent the majority of this fight thinking that I was below you in terms of skill and ability. Let me show you how untrue that thought really is."
Ornstein's eyes widened as whips of flame surrounded Arcturus and his eyes glowed red. What is this?
His question was answered when Arcturus swiped his blade towards Ornstein, a massively powerful shockwave slamming into him, almost knocking him over. His eyes narrowed. He couldn't allow himself to be hit while Arcturus was like this.
Arcturus bolted forward, faster than he should be, and brought his giant weapon down. Ornstein just barely managed to block the attack, but winced at the strength behind it. He tried to counter, but was surprised when Arcturus caught the butt of the spear in his bare hand. He jumped away only to notice that ornate metal butt was deformed and red-hot. 'He melted it with just his hand?!'
Ornstein backed away, wary of Arcturus now. He never imagined that the man held such power. It was even more amazing since he was under the effect of the Black Eye Orb. This shouldn't even be possible. However, just as he was mesmerizing the power Arcturus held, the aura of flame faded and Arcturus began to breath heavily.
'So it's time-based. He can't do that for long. Good.'
Arcturus stabbed the extremely large weapon into the ground, summoning a much smaller weapon. Just as Ornstein thought he had it in the bag, he blanched at what he saw. The 'Chaos Blade' that the Witch of Izalith had warned him about.
"Don't let him bring out that weapon. If you're unable to do that, don't get cut by it. Not even I can repair the damage made by that blade."
Arcturus adopted an odd stance. His right foot forward, his left foot behind, and his body twisted. His left hand grabbed the sheathe of the blade and held it right against the left side of his waist, where as he right hand reached around to grab the hilt. It was as if he were welcoming an attack. Ornstein, not one to pass up a presented opportunity, threw caution to the wind and charged forward.
That was a mistake. In a flash, Arcturus unleashed his blade, cutting through Ornstein's armor and into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Just as quickly as the strike came, the blade was re-sheathed. Refusing to be outdone, however, Ornstein clenched his jaw through the outstanding amount of pain and grabbed Arcturus' ankle. Then, he summoned Lord Gwyn's gift of Lightning, severely shocking and injuring Arcturus.
Arcturus dropped the blade and Ornstein made sure to kick it far out of the way. He rose, keeping a hand to his side where he was cut to keep pressure on the wound. "I misjudged you. Were we not in this Black Dimension, you might be close to my equal. But you're trapped in here, where I'm even more superior."
Arcturus, who had fallen to one knee, panted heavily "I wouldn't be so sure about that"
Ornstein growled. He'd never see Arcturus as an anger gave way to disbelief when Arcturus stood, however. 'This shouldn't be possible! I channeled enough electricity through him to incinerate a giant!'
Arcturus summoned his signature weapon. His Great Scythe. He grasp the shaft in both hands firmly and moved forward. Slowly. Menacingly. It was enough to make Ornstein nervous. However, he needn't worry, as Arcturus found himself flying across the room once more after being hit with a giant hammer. Smough had stopped watching.
As Arcturus struggled to pick himself up, he noticed his Scythe on the ground far away from him, as were the rest of his weapons he had already summoned. It was no surprise to him that Smough had come along. Not taking chances, he summoned his two remaining weapons: His Claymore, and his Silver Knight Sword. Flames shot out of his hands and coated the blade. It would take all he had to fend off both Ornstein and Smough.
However, before he could go on the offensive he found himself completely drained of stamina. He fell to the ground, hearing a voice behind him. "This has gone on long enough. People outside are starting wake up. It won't be long before that girl starts looking for him."
The Witch of Izalith. Somehow, she had put him in a state of complete fatigue. He was barely able to stay awake. "Smough, gather his weapons. I want to study them as well. Ornstein, pick him up. I'm opening a portal to my laboratory."
This was it. He was defeated. He'd never see Ciara again. Those were his last thoughts before falling unconscious, images of the blonde flashing through his mind.
A/N: I've taken down Reaper of Souls, as this is the story that will be replacing it. The old storyboard I had for Reaper of Souls is long gone. In it's place is 26 pages of this new story. The plot starts out similarly, as you've likely noticed if you managed to read RoS before I took it down, but it has a huge, massive divergence coming up from where I originally wanted RoS to go.
I'll be honest, I wanted to add more to this first chapter, but I had to stop it here. Cliffhangers and all that to keep people around for the next installment. Don't worry, this doesn't mean I'm constantly going to be ending on cliffhangers. I know how annoying that can be. I do hope that it's done a good job of getting you readers to stick around for the next chapter at the very least. Dark Souls isn't exactly easy to write for and stay anywhere near canon, as the lore behind Dark Souls isn't all that readily available and many, many things are disputed about the lore even to this day.
Like my other stories, I do plan on this having a sequel. Two, in fact. Much like my recently posted Mass Effect story, there will be one for each game. You're probably interested in how that'll work, but I promise to do my best to make sense of how our characters will go from Dark Souls 1, to 2, to 3. I'll be explaining the changing landscape, where new enemies came from, and all that in due time. The weapons Arcturus had at his disposal in this chapter isn't just me enjoying those weapons in the game. They're there to signal a much bigger, overarching story behind it all.
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a follow. If you have any criticism, I invite you do post a review stating said criticisms. Despite appearances, I do enjoy constructive criticism and, barring that, I have no qualms explaining something more in depth should it be necessary.