AN: Hello everyone. Pardon this little thing, just a small project I was thinking about while getting back into Bloodborne and trying to get back into writing. More or less just fleshing out a character I've been trying to work on for a bit, cement her character a bit more and all that but pardon if it's a bit...generic or boring or what have you. Kinda my own thing that I just felt like sharing but still, please feel free to leave a review or the like if you wish after all while I know it's not perfect it doesn't mean I can't improve it for an overall better reading experience. Thank you all so much to those that read it even partially through and I'm wishing you all nothing but the best.
The night had been long.
It had been tiring.
Soon though, perhaps with a true finality, it would be over.
Her breath ragged with blood dripping from both her hands and blades from wounds inflicted by-and upon-her the Hunter slowly sat herself down on the uneven patch of ground in the center of the open court high atop the Nightmare tower, wincing and hissing in contained pain. The cloaked, faceless creature which had guarded the infant Great One lay dead and bleeding several feet away but it was the crying coming from the upturned baby carriage which held her attention.
With a look of tired, grim sorrow, she rested to try and get some of her strength back whilst watching the small basket and listened as slowly the cries quieted until everything at last fell silent. Her sorrowful frown deepened with another weight latching itself to her heart. Getting up after another moment, she walked over to the carriage and set her Blades of Mercy down as she knelt and placed a hand upon the dark wicker.
It had been a necessary deed, not only to end the Hunt at long last but also to free the poor infant, Great One or no, from its imprisonment. It didn't make it any less taxing on her heart though, like all the others she had been forced to put down. There she remained for several minutes, her thumb stroking small circles on the old baby carriage as she thought about the Night and the Nightmares atop it that she had traversed. The truths she had learned, the deaths she had inflicted and suffered, the weights which had latched themselves to her heavy heart and mind.
At last she removed her hand from the carriage and turned around as she sat once more, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, resting her head forward against her knees. The stench of the blood upon her had long ago been something she had adjusted to. Glancing to her Blades she once more found a sick truth to their name. Used by the Hunters of Hunters to give those that had succumbed to their bloodlust a final end, to be free of that torment, while also being used upon those that had suffered the plague both as victims to the scourge and the corruption it had wrought. She was not such a fool to see herself as only a giver of a merciful end, though sometimes she wished it so.
If only she could have saved even a fraction of the lives she had ended though: Ariana, the old crone who thought her her child in her delusion to be freed of her mental torment, Gascoigne's poor daughters…
"Yes okay, thank you very much Miss Hunter! I love you almost as much as mum and dad, and grandad!"
Sorrow filled her eyes and she drew her legs closer, fingers gripping to her trousers tightly. She hadn't had it in her to tell the girl about her mother's death, to give up the brooch, thinking so selfishly, so ignorantly she could save the girl from grief and the night. She had tried to send her to the chapel, to clear the way for her even. But it hadn't mattered.
The one path she had failed to clear, the one creature she did not slay...when she'd found that poor...bloody white ribbon…
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she closed her eyes and pulled out the small music box she had been given what felt like years ago. Opening it, a slow, methodical tune plinked out and she watched and listened to it ever silently as so often she did when she needed reminding of what she was fighting for.
She supposed it was only fitting to listen to it perhaps one last time at the end of her journey. She thought again of the faces she had met this horrid Night, tried not to forget the faces of those who had needed saving the most and whom seemed destined not to make it. She thought of the blind church dweller who at first she had been suspicious of but who in the end had wanted nothing more than to be her friend when the night was over.
It...had been hard to hold back tears at that question. Perhaps she had not been able to save everyone despite how hard she had tried-and by God had she tried…-but for all the suffering, all the death, it was someone at the bottom of the chain who had appreciated her actions the most. Who had just wanted to be her friend because he saw the goodness in her and how hard she tried. Perhaps since she had been fighting almost her whole life even before the nigh on endless night, to be asked such a thing by someone who didn't even know what she looked like, merely on the merit of her actions, good faith and will, did he ask her even feeling he was likely wasn't worth such a thing.
Truly, to her the thought was quite the opposite but still she had told him she would like that. She only hoped she'd be able to keep true to it if for his sake.
With a deep breath, she finally closed the music box, even if she held it for another few seconds before putting it away. Still she sat though and reminisced on the last...and most important thing that had happened that night.
"Arthur!"
He paused and stood a bit straighter, an action punctuated by the large brimmed hat he wore even if the tall collar of the tomb prospector garb hid the back of his head. There were many people who knew his name but none would be out here on the Night of the Hunt, at least none no longer alive. And besides, there was something to that voice that held a certain familiarity, even with the anger upon it. The more he wracked his brain the more he came to a single conclusion but that couldn't have been...surely?
After a second or two though he had come to terms with what could only have been the truth and a sad nostalgic smile took hold of his features, hidden as they were behind the bone ash mask he wore. Slowly, he turned and sure enough he was greeted by the face he so long ago thought he'd never see again and inspected her briefly. An ashen hat sat atop familiar silver hair tied back in a ponytail. Along with it she wore a black garb of the church-though as they'd never been religious before they had separated so long ago he could only have wondered what might have been the cause of that-a charred gauntlet on her left hand, and tall, familiar boots he saw on most other Hunters.
"Reyven..." he said gently though loud enough to carry the space between them, "it's been a long time. You've certainly grown quite a bit."
Her features twisted into narrow-eyed hate, a frown bordering on a sneer upon her lips. "Don't say a word!" she snapped bitterly. "After all this time, all the searching, all the pain and suffering, I'm going to do the talking and you're going to answer for everything."
"Awfully hard to if I'm not-" he was silenced as her pistol snapped up and fired a shot at him, he was just able to side-step in time as the bullet flew past and cracked the stone wall behind him. He looked back at it and chuckled with amusement, tipping his head in acknowledgement before turning to her, "Alright then. Point gotten. Continue."
Reyven stared at him for several seconds, lips a thin, tight line before she finally lowered her pistol even against her better judgement. It took her several seconds to choose any of the number of questions she had, has had for so many years. To finally be on the cusp of answers, it was hard to choose the one she wanted to hear first, whether she truly even wanted to hear them. "Almost fifteen years…" she began quietly and slowly shook her head, her mind abuzz with so many things that she had heard over the years and then over the night. At times they aligned, others they contradicted. For so long she'd heard of the monster her brother was, the brutality he inflicted upon his victims, his merciless nature, how poorly he treated those he came across. Then there were times such as for several he had come across tonight she heard of his charisma, his caring, that while he could be brutal it was against those that wronged him or those he'd come close to.
She'd even met Ariana after the woman had met Arthur, had told Reyven how he had treated her like a proper lady and not some whore like most others saw her and had guided her back to the chapel himself. It caused so much contradiction but tonight had already made her question everything she'd come to know, she supposed now might as well not be any exception.
Finally she found her first question, "Why…?" she asked softly. "After the accident you left me behind...after all that time of treating me like you cared, why just abandon me…?"
Arthur released a sigh and let his head fall some before meeting her gaze, "I'm Reyven, I am. I left though because I thought you were dead. All things considered I couldn't have imagined anyone, especially of our age, could have made it out of-"
"Don't give me that…" she interrupted him in exhausted disbelief. "After all the things you had done for me, all the times you tried to help me no matter what the situation was, you expect me to believe that?" He held a silence, knowing she wasn't finished because he knew by now they both knew the truth of the matter, at least in a way. "The only difference was if you had gone back for me he would have gotten away. Was it worth it Arthur?" she called to him, the grief beginning to grow evident on her face and tone. "Was it worth losing your sister over petty revenge?"
Arthur once more said nothing. After all, she wasn't wrong. It was a guilt he'd held onto for many years. Having been so blinded by revenge he left the only family he had left behind to chase one of the people who had taken the rest of it away from him. It was a disgusting irony he held in his heart for so long but even seeing her here alive now it did little to soothe that ache.
"Do you even know what they did to me? They took me to an orphanage and I was...God for so many years they tried to beat me into someone I wasn't, into something I didn't believe in. I held on though...thinking you'd come to help me like you always did...my big brother…" Even from the distance between them and her gaze averted, Arthur could see the tears, "but you didn't…" Her face did not seem to change and she did not wipe away the tears, whether because she did not notice them or did not care they were there he did not know.
Olive eyes found his and he could see the exhaustion in them, a lifetime of fighting from even before she was left behind by her brother. "So, Arthur, did you kill them all like you wanted to? Was it worth it?"
Arthur shook his head, "Yeah, I got them all, but victories like that feel so hollow when you lost one of the reasons you were fighting along the way." He met her gaze and was quiet for a brief moment, "I really did think you were gone, Reyven. It doesn't excuse not going back to make sure, to find you, but I was young, stupid, blinded by wanting to get back at the men that took our parents away from us...who I thought took the last family I had away from me."
She could only shake her head, a sneer slowly forming on her lips, "For so long I wanted answers...I guess I don't know what I expected," she stated, the distaste clear upon her lips.
"Perhaps a brother who was wracked with shame and guilt, moreso than he ever let on. Who hid his face from the world because no one who'd care to see it would anymore. Hmph," he smiled sadly behind his mask. "I don't expect forgiveness, Reyven, but that doesn't mean I can't be sorry for leaving behind the one person that mattered to me anymore."
She couldn't look at him. So long she'd held onto so much hate. So long it had festered as much as her need for answers. Now here she was and it all felt so empty. She didn't know what to believe, her mind reeling from even being able to be here at last. She just couldn't take it.
"Shut up…" she said quietly and shook her head, barely hearing his defeated sigh. "You still took lives, took them because they benefited you in the end. Not even just those that killed our parents. I know not all the tales are true, but I also know they aren't all fantasy." No objection came. "No one is innocent in a Hunt, but I'm not the only one who has suffered by your hands from before it ever started and you're going to answer for it." She holstered her pistol and raised her hands above her head, snapping one blade into two as she watched him.
Arthur could only sigh and nod, it was only a matter of time before old sins came to pay him back. It was just a cruel irony the way in which it would happen. "Very well, Reyven. I don't blame you, truly, but that also doesn't mean I wish to die...I'm sorry." He drew a curved blade from his hip, a replica he had slaved over after studying the Hunts of Old. It might not have been siderite, but its edge was still honed to a deadly sharpness.
She said nothing, only watch him with a hard gaze, even if there was a conflict behind her eyes. They stood still for several long seconds before Reyven was the first to move. She raised an old bone and crushed it in her palm, the moment she moved she disappeared in a cloud of gold dust only to reappear an instant later right in front of him.
And thus their deathly dance began. Long they fought, truly almost as even as could be with calculated swipes made and barely avoided by both parties. However where Reyven would score a nick or cut, she would dodge all attacks made her way, not knowing that in the end her brother could never bring himself to strike down his baby sister. Especially knowing he was guilty of all the crimes she accused him of. It was not a repentance, but in the end he simply could not do it, not after all this time.
He could see the conflict in her eyes, how she wanted this but also in the end did not and he could tell she was holding back. How she almost seemed to flinch when she landed a strike. Neither wanted to truly kill the other but just as so long ago he was blinded by revenge, so too was she, though perhaps now acted more under the thought he had to be stopped before hurting any more people. He couldn't blame her for that in the end. So as they fought, her short dual blades weaving between quick and powerful strikes from his scythe, he came to terms with his fate.
He reared his weapon behind his back, making ready for a powerful strike that she was quick to capitalize on, dashing in and rearing her hands back for a quick dual stab she expected him to dodge. Instead, his large weapon suddenly dropped to the ground and she found strong hands gripping her forearms, pulling her forward in wide-eyed surprise. Her blades bit deep into his chest and he grunted with the effort it took to stand after the blades were buried, their wicked edges and curves ensuring removing them would not be easy or painless.
She blinked and realized she was shaking, falling to her knees with Arthur when he could no longer remain standing. He leaned heavily against her, hardly able to stop it from happening. "A-Arthur…?" she was confused, lost more than anything so taken off guard was she. She didn't know if she truly would had it in her to finish the one person in the world that had cared for her so early on even if he had left. As it had turned out though, he'd done it for her and it took several moments of recovering from the shock until she realized he was speaking into her ear. Quietly...hoarsely…
"-sorry...You were right about a lot things...and deserved so much better...better than I probably could have given you...Guess I left you in worse hands though...But...look at how far you've come...Night's almost over...Made it this long...found me…" he grunted. "Sorry it could have gone better." A gauntleted hand was raised and clumsily knocked her hat off her head to ruffle some of her silver hair weakly, snapping her out of her daze and making her realize exactly what was happening.
As she did, he fell to the side with another grunt of pain, rolling onto his back to stare upward as Reyven knelt beside him. "Arthur...Arthur I'm…" she was shaking, tears beginning to well in her eyes. All the satisfaction she had expected, had wanted, none of it was there. All she felt was an oppressive realization of how foolish she still truly was.
"Shhh…" he breathed out slowly, taking a deep breath. He lifted a hand and pulled his mask off, revealing the half-burned face of her brother. A mark he acquired on the right side of his body the night they lost their parents. Out of focus olive green eyes stared upward before they found her and a small smirk formed on his scarred lips. "You did good Reyven...my baby sis...all grown up...hah...To be honest, after that day I never thought I'd say that...glad I was able to…" He had to swallow, all the while Reyven struggled for words, everything she wanted or tried to say caught in her throat. "Hang in there sis...you can do this…" he struggled to look around at the warped architecture around them, "nearly...there…"
"Arthur...please…" she could only now realize just how much she had truly missed him-still loved him like the one who would always look out for her, let her be who she wanted to be-now when she was on the verge of losing him.
She hated it. Almost as much as she hated herself.
"Hey…" a hand tried to rise to wipe her tears away, only managing one before it fell limp at his side, his smile still present. "I'm...proud…." his breath slowly slipped out from between his still smiling lips as life left his eyes.
"Arthur…?" Reyven gripped his garb tightly and when she got no response she felt her tears well up even more and her heart felt like it was being crushed. She pinched her eyes shut and pressed her face to the chest she'd brace herself against on dark cold nights so long ago, sobbing loudly as she begged forgiveness from the only person who had cared for and about her.
Reyven felt the single tear which had slipped free of her eye come to a rest against her knee and sit out of place amongst the blood which stained it. With a deep, shaky breath, she closed her eyes and recollected herself as best she could. Standing and wiping her tear away with a calm, if ever tired expression. She picked up her Blades of Mercy and snapped them together, glancing back to the seemingly empty baby carriage before walking to the lantern which had appeared. With a snap of her fingers the ethereal light of the lantern sparked and she went down on one knee with a hand extended, thinking of the peaceful Dream, her last respite from the world which had knocked her down and around so many times.
Everything seemed to fade for but a minute and when it all returned she heard the crackling of a great fire, smelled its smoke but strangely there seemed to be no heat. With a furrowed brow, she opened her eyes and gasped.
The Workshop, the small hut of a building which time and again had served its purpose, was ablaze with a fire that seemed content to burn only the outside of the building and even then she could not see any true damage. Blinking in pure shock, Reyven spotted the Doll standing calm as ever before her.
She approached the living replica of Lady Mariah, "D-doll, what is happening?"
"Good hunter, you have come…" her voice was serene and gentle as ever. "Dawn will soon break... This night, and this dream, will end. Gehrman awaits you, at the foot of the great tree. Go on, good hunter…"
"I…" Reyven closed her mouth and looked off beyond the gravestones, knowing the gated fence so long closed was likely her destination and it was likely no use asking questions. "I understand. Thank you, Doll…" she reached out and gently took the hands of the Doll, feeling her fingers even through the gloves she wore. Her eyes remained down at the hands, "...For all that you have done."
Just as what might have been expected, the Doll bowed her head, "The pleasure has been mine, oh Good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world."
Reyven nodded her thanks and turned to begin walking down the cobblestone path. Before it had taken her some time to truly appreciate the phrase, but there was something about the well wish that simply...struck home. She wasn't certain if she could explain it, but sometimes it was the mantra that kept her going.
Approaching the once locked gate she saw it open at last and when she stepped through the threshold she was awestruck by the sight she saw. White flowers covered the field and gravestones lined it like rocks for a garden. Crosses stood high in the field and she could see pockets in the flowers where a gravestone no doubt sat. Atop it all, a grand tree stood stretching to the heavens much like the one she saw when she found the abandoned workshop, but this one seemed even more grand, even more reaching with its limbs.
Taking a deep breath and smelling the moon-scented flowers, Reyven followed the path in until she noticed the form of Gehrman waiting at the foot of the tree. A sense of anxious foreboding filled her but she quelled it for now, instead stepping carefully through the flowers up to where the old hunter sat in his chair. He sat a bit straighter as she approached. Truthfully in all her time in the Dream she never knew what to make of the old man. She would not call him a mentor for he merely suggested she do this or that when first she arrived and was otherwise mostly not present for her journey through the night. She would see him sleeping every now and then and hear some of the ramblings of his speech which only gave her clue to the man's entrapment as stoic as he otherwise tried to remain.
As well, through her search during the night she had come to learn things of him if second-handedly. His affection for his student, Mariah, how he truly wished to be free of the Dream, how perhaps he had conceived it with Laurence and Wilhelm so no Hunter would worry about the Nightmare which otherwise would have inevitably awaited them, how in the end...he was a man who had sacrificed so much for the Hunt even beyond his mortal shackles.
In the end, she supposed that despite everything she respected the man and all that he had done, that even though he had been worn down by his duty he still persisted with the best interest of his Hunters at heart.
She came to a stop not far from him and waited patiently for what he had to say.
"Good Hunter, you've done well, the night is near its end." He began, "Now I will show you mercy. You will die, forget the dream, and awake under the morning sun. You will be freed from this terrible Hunter's Dream."
Reyven processed his words and nodded, "I understand…" she paused. "But...what of you?" The old Hunter's brow rose, "The Hunt is over, surely? The Nightmare of Mensis is no more, Micolash and Mergo have perished. Surely there is no more need for a Hunt?" she was hopefully, but she knew perhaps she simply sounded naive.
Gehrman shook his head, "The Nightmare of Mensis only made the Hunt more treacherous, the Great Ones more anxious. However the blood existed long before it and man is ever prone to folly. This Hunt may be over and you have accomplished more than any have before you, Good Hunter, and for that you have my thanks, but there is little doubt with the continuation of the Blood and Great Ones' influence it is of little doubt the Hunt may be needed again." He paused in his speech and his voice took on a gentler tone, "But...your concern is admirable and appreciated."
Her face grew downcast and it was hard to look at the man, "You've given so much already Gehrman, I know this Dream grows weary upon you. I'm sorry. I wish something can be done…"
A small smile grazed his lips, "Thank you, Good Hunter, but this is my burden to bare. 'Better I than another', is that not what you told the Doll?" She gave a solemn nod after a moment but that didn't make it any easier to bare.
So hard had she tried to save those that she could but almost everyone had slipped through her grasp, some so close to being saved...And in the end, she still could not save the one who likely could have used it the most.
"I...I will accept...but...can I remain...For just a bit longer?" she asked quietly and looked up to the old man.
His small smile persisted and he gave a nod. Bowing her head in thanks, Reyven set her weapons down in the bed of flowers around her and without a word took up a spot beside Gehrman's chair. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them once more, looking out at the beautiful sight of the flowers around them which itself overlooked the expansive, endless distance of clouds beyond. Quietly she sat, taking it all in, preparing herself for the moment to come. She would miss this, perhaps not the Hunt, but the Dream, the Doll, the messengers, the calmness, the beautiful white flowers. The sense of belonging she never felt before.
Perhaps it was just a facade, a hopeless illusion one would only know the truth of when subjugated to being its host. But...it was not as though the world outside gave much of a care for her in itself.
"I don't suppose you would willingly hand your mantle over to another, would you? Even after all this time?"
Gehrman sat a bit straighter with a slight frown, clearly not enjoying the question. "No. This Dream is much more than just what you see, its burden far greater than you might imagine even if you have given it thought. I would not put that weight upon another even if they think themselves prepared for it…" He was quiet for a second and his tone grew a bit more gentle again, "I understand you hold no malice in your question, nor I in my answer, but thank you for your care if that is truly what it is."
"I understand," she mumbled, not out of dejection but simple exhaustion. It had been a long Night and she felt as though she'd been fighting all her life...Perhaps she had, even before the Hunt. Even still…
She sighed deeply and paid another look over the serene landscape before her. "Good Hunter, it is time…"
It took a moment but Reyven nodded slowly, "I'm ready…" Standing up, she took a few more steps down the hill and looked out before lowering to her knees and closing her eyes, knowing that it will be painless when the moment came.
A second passed and she heard the creak of the wheelchair behind her as Gehrman rose, suppressing a small laugh, seeing it as something she probably should have realized. "Farewell, my keen Hunter. Fear the blood."
Fear the blood. If only she could do anything less after a night such as this. She gave the slightest of nods and waited.
The seconds passed, perhaps it was merely a few but in a moment such as this they stretched on for hours. However, just like that she heard the slight flutter of a cape, the nigh on silent whisk of a blade so sharp it could slice the air.
And just like that, there was nothing…
Something warm spread over her feet.
Her brow furrowed and she adjusted where she lay, feeling the unyielding discomfort of stone on her rear and back. The feeling of warmth spread and the distant sound of a bell began to ring, the Hunter slowly opening her eyes and taking in her surroundings. She was resting against a well and something bright began to shine in her eyes.
Wincing and covering her eyes briefly trying to discern the source, all the while the distant bell rang, she slowly began to stand. Her body ached and felt oh so worn but still she managed. When at last she could stand proper, she looked up and out and her jaw fell ever the slightest.
"Hauh…" her breath was caught in her throat as she looked out and took a few steps forward, the comforting warmth falling over her as the sun began to rise.
Reyven smiled and felt her eyes begin to well up again. So many tears she had shed tonight...none of them were like the ones which fell now which beheld one of the most beautiful sights she'd never thought she'd be able to see again. Her lip quivered and she tried to remain standing. At long last the night was over...the Hunt...the death…
What she would do...she did not know...Her whole life had been spent fighting it felt...but right now...right now she just wanted to watch the most awesome and beautiful sunrise she thought she'd never see.