I've wanted to write something for Dark Souls for a while now. If you've played that game, than you know what kind of heavy shit it throws at you (literally and story-wise). There are so many different and unique story lines riddled throughout the game, but it never really goes in depth into any of them. This is just one of the ways I saw my character reacting to this situation.

Dark Souls: Penitence

Chapter 1

The Real Beginning

The Pilgrim watched as the fiery abomination perished and faded into oblivion. Walking over to the ground where it had once stood, he gave his condolences. Destructive as she may have been Quelaag seemed sentient, and killing those who still had some semblance of their sanity always felt wrong in some way.

'That does not excuse the fact that she tried to kill you.' He hated it when this side of him came out.

'Even so! She is different from the demons and hollows I have slain in the past! If I were to act so uncaring about a sentient being's death, it would make me no better than my hollowed piers!' These arguments always played out the same way. He was beginning to grow tired of it.

'You are foolish… The only important task is to survive. Such petty actions like this will only bring you more trouble. Remember that with each death you are one step closer to the hollows you despise so much.'

'Being an emotionless killing machine is no better.' It seemed that he had no response to that. Both sides were right in a sense, although he had sympathy for his fallen brethren, feeling bad for them would only cause him more trouble in the end. It was these kinds of arguments that made him hate himself.

Maybe being imprisoned inside the Undead Asylum for what seemed like an eternity had caused more damage to his mind than he had originally assumed…

Disregarding that train of thought, he carefully collected the soul of Quelaag. Once it was in his hands, he felt it being absorbed into his darksign. He had not used it, merely stashed it away for later. He had found out about this little skill shortly after arriving at Firelink Shrine, and it had been invaluable to him for a number of reasons.

One of which was being his ability to carry more than one humanity. They were a valuable commodity, and one that was not easily come across. At the moment he was the proud owner of seven, and what he had to go through to get a hold of them was precisely the reason why they were so valuable. The souls of his fallen opponents, such as the one he had just acquired, were also quite useful at times. Though he had yet to find a useful purpose for most of them.

Moving to pick his reward up had also reminded him of his recent battle. It had been his win, but not by much, and the slight movement made him painfully aware of the damage he had taken.

He sighed and drank from the flask that had saved him so many times before. Immediately a warm and soothing sensation filled him, and his burns and gashes made from her sword healed and closed, for the most part. He was still partially injured, and he knew that he would need to find a new bonfire quickly. It was only after he had finished it that he realized it had been his last one. The weight of his armor seemed to grow heavier, and his arms weaker. He hoped that this supposed bell was not much further. He couldn't take much more punishment. He may be undead, but that didn't mean dying didn't hurt like hell.

The glint on his left hand also reminded him of something else. The 'Old Witch's Ring', as a rude and nearly hollowed merchant had appraised it. It had been with him from the start. He remembered being in that Asylum and just staring at it for days, weeks even. He hadn't known where he had gotten it. It had always just … been there. Apparently it was quite valuable.

Once he had heard that his opponent would be a Chaos Witch, he had hoped wearing it in battle would give him some kind of edge. It did nothing to help in his battle, however it did somehow make him able to understand what she had been saying. She was in a rage however, and the only intelligible words he got from all of the yelling were things like 'stay away from her' and 'you must die'. The second one he partly understood because they were trying to kill each other. The first threw him for a loop. Who was she? Why must he stay away? Maybe she had been holding someone hostage. Perhaps in her delusions she had given the bell a gender?

All the ring did was make him able to understand one witch. Fat load of good that did him, the fact that he could understand her did not make up for the fact that she was very fond of murdering people. He angrily took it off and shoved it into his pouch around his waist. It was home to many trinkets he had found in his travels. He put his inquiries to the back of his mind. His main priority should be finding a bonfire. He was running out of steam, and a nice long rest would surely be good for him.

Shield raised, he headed towards the small set of stairs that he hoped would lead him to his goal. The stairs narrowed into a corridor, and once again opened into a room. He cautiously entered; ready for any kind of surprise attack this cruel land saw fit to throw at him. The shield was soon lowered however when he spotted a large rusted church bell hanging from the center.

'YES! Finally! With the bell finally rang I can get out of this accursed pit and get back up to safety of the Shrine! And there are no giant spider witches to deal with up there! Finally this nightmare can be over with.

All the hesitation was replaced with joy as he merrily skipped towards the lever. He was sure to carefully avoid the large pit in the center. Having to come all this way only to be stopped by his own stupidity did not sound like such a good plan to him. Coming up to the large lever that he assumed would ring the bell, he grabbed it and pulled with all his might. The heavy sound of gears turning was soon replaced by the sound of the bell beginning its first gong.

It was a truly beautiful sound to be sure. He shut his eyes and let the soothing melody (at least in his mind) be cast over him. All of his frustration, anger, and fear seemed to disappear. Washed away by the hypnotizing sound of the gongs. They seemed to resonate and amplify, carrying their sound not only to the denizens of Blighttown, but through all of Lordran. It was so incredibly loud he was almost positive that his companions he had found along his travels could hear it at Firelink Shrine.

All too soon however the bell stopped and he was pulled from his euphoric musings and thrust back into the dark and desolate world he had been in.

'No! I want to hear it again! It was wonderful! Please bring it back! He tried in vain to pull the lever again. Unfortunately it seemed to be completely stuck in its current position.

'Get a hold of yourself you fool! It is obviously not going to ring again. He let go of the lever and slumped his shoulders. Of course he know this, but it never hurt anybody to try.

'Now stop being a weakling and proceed forward. I'm sure you can find something to heal you further ahead.'

Seeing the wisdom in his words the Pilgrim begrudgingly stepped away from the lever and got his sword and shield at the ready. After looking around the room for any possible loot or secret passageways he headed towards the spiral stairs heading downward. He walked rather casually. Partly admiring the scenery outside, and partly because of his exhaustion setting in.

'Fiery death and destruction sure are beautiful.' Eventually the stairs ended, and he came across a circular room filled with what looked like large overgrown egg-sacks. 'Oh Lords,' he thought, 'I really hope none of these hatch, that would be a real pain to deal with… No! I have to remain optimistic; else I loose myself to doubt and fear. Like that annoying fellow I met at the shrine. Seriously, does that guy ever smile?'

'You're getting off topic you idiot! Focus on the task at hand.'

Oh right! Finding something to heal himself! He looked around at his options of where he could go. It seemed the only way besides going the way he came was the narrow corridor that looked like it hadn't been part of the original design. It seemed to have been forcefully inserted into the wall. Many bricks and debris lay scattered around it. This did not seem promising. Not only that, but he could see a faint red light emanating from inside.

Option number one was out, but it seemed as though that was his only way. Then he remembered something that he had witnessed while exploring the bowls of Darkroot Garden.

-Flashback-

He had just stumbled across a giant door, which seemed to be sealed by some sort of magic. To his right he could see a narrow break in the wall, no doubt leading to some nefarious trap. He had learned from experience that dark narrow passageways never ended well.

He was also incredibly pissed about it.

Now usually he was not a very talkative person. Far from it, but when he was alone he could let his frustrations out with confidence.

"This is ridiculous! Absolutely maddening! I come all this way through this dark and dank forest and what do I find? A locked door and an obvious trap! This is just my luck! I haven't seen even a hint of a bonfire since Andre! I won't be able to survive much longer! Why am I even going on such a silly quest?! I've no idea where I'm even headed!"

By this point the Pilgrim was almost seething at the mouth. He started to see red, and began to take his frustration out on the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a wall. Gripping his sword tightly in his hands, he swung with all his might. He expected to hear the satisfying clink of his sword making contact with brick, what he got was not what he was expecting.

Instead of the wall holding fast, it dissipated immediately, and his momentum sent him stumbling forward, and downward.

Hitting the ground with a rather painful thud, he shot back up with sword in hand, seeking the invisible enemy that was able to knock him down. He found no one, and realized with amazement that the wall must have been some kind of illusionary spell. After gathering his bearings he looked down and saw something that made the pain from falling drift away.

There, sitting nice and proper was an unlit bonfire. At first he wondered what in the world it was being hidden for, but he never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So instead of being curious he lit the fire, sat down, and enjoyed a well deserved nap for his troubles.

Shortly afterwards, he was killed by a giant butterfly.

-End flashback-

Perhaps this was one of those times. After all it never hurt to try. He took his sword in his hand and started to lightly tap it along the walls of the room, or at least the walls that weren't covered with large egg sacks. There was no sense in blindly swinging his blade; after all he didn't want a repeat of the last time this had happened. Eventually he came to section of the wall that was slightly indented into the otherwise circular room. It didn't look any different than any other section of the wall, but he supposed that it was worth a shot. Taking his sword, he lightly tapped on the crumbling bricks that made up the wall. It disintegrated as soon as the metal had made contact with the stone, and the sword kept going.

He smiled, happy that he had remembered his experience with these things. His smile quickly dropped when he was able to look past it. He saw the familiar orange glow of a bonfire down the path; it was not this that had made him on edge though. It was the creature immediately in front of it. With sword drawn, and shield in hand he slowly crept forward, ready to run or fight at a moments notice. As he got closer and closer he was able to make out more detail in the strange figure. He looked like a malnourished man. It was the thing he was carrying on his back however that made the Pilgrim suspicious. This thing had grotesque eggs, similar to the ones lining the walls, sprouting from his back. They had grown so large that they had become too much for him to walk, as he was sitting there on his hands and knees, not able to stand any longer. He looked up at the Pilgrim with a scrutinizing gaze, as if sizing up a potential gift.

The Pilgrim steadily by cautiously proceeded, and jumped a little when the strange being began to speak to him.

"Oh dear … what have we here? Are you a new servant?" He sounded surprisingly civilized, and the Pilgrim was taken back by his sudden question. He thought for a moment. What would get him into this room quicker?

After a moment of hesitation, the Pilgrim nodded his head.

"Hmph. But you have no eggs?" The creature sounded suspicious, and the Pilgrim subconsciously reached for the hilt of his sword.

"Bah. No matter. Go along and have an audience with Our Fair Lady. I pray that you will mind your manners!" The strange creature turned around and started to awkwardly waddle out of his way. He lowered his hand with relief and let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. He quickly made a break for the bonfire, not paying attention to his surroundings or what the creature had just said. He lit it, and collapsed beside it. The healing mist soon rose up and enveloped him, concealing anything outside of it. He must have been more tired than he thought to collapse this quickly. The Estus Flask may be able to heal physical wounds, but mental exhaustion was not something he could simply drink away, and a good rest at a bonfire would definitely help in his recovery. Finally being able to rest for a while, he drifted into a peaceful slumber next to the warm fire, not even remotely aware that something may be in the room with him.

He awoke several hours later to the sound of shifting limbs. His mind was muggy and slow as he blearily sat up and looked around for the noise that had so rudely awoken him. He saw the strange creature from before sitting silently in the corner, staring at him expectantly. What did it want?

He soon realized the strange noise was not coming from his deformed friend, but somewhere behind him. The pilgrim turned with a little force with an annoyed glint in his eye, ready to send a death glare to the thing that had halted his rest. What he saw chilled him to the core.

A woman sat there, not three meters away. She was hauntingly beautiful, with long silky white hair. Her head was bowed slightly and her skin seemed ghostly pale. Unhealthily so. Her eyes were closed and her face was soft and kind, with a small smile gracing her lips. He also realized with a bit of a blush, that she was naked. Her hands were crossed over her chest, so there was no risk in seeing something he should not be seeing. Her fingernails were abnormally long and sharp. Her body was rather shapely, he noticed. And her tantalizing chest led to a smooth stomach and beautiful hips, and from there to-

His slightly inappropriate train of thought ended abruptly there, and in it's place an intense feeling of dread. Her hips, instead of leading into legs, seemed to be haphazardly morphed into the body of a large, disgusting, and intimidating spider. It's body and legs took up about half of the room. How he had not notice before was a mystery. After recovering from the initial shock, he scrambled to his feet and fumbled for his sword and shield. All the while trying to keep an eye on the thing sitting before him.

Its head flicked up at the sound of his movement, and he stilled.

It, 'her' he supposed, began to move its mouth. As though she was speaking, calling out, and yet he could not understand what she was saying. He lowered his weapon slightly after deducting that he was not in any immediate danger. The more she tried to speak the more distressed she seemed. Her small smile faded, and her face switched from beautifully calm to concern. She still tried to speak, although still nothing came out, or at least nothing he could understand.

'The Old Witch's Ring! Perhaps if I were to wear it I could understand her, like before!' He fumbled with the small pouch across his waist. 'Honestly there must be a more organized way to carry my things, if I take this long finding one damned ring I might as well be asking to be killed.'

After an agonizingly long time of awkwardly feeling around in his small pouch, he finally grasped the small ring in his hand, and put it on once again. The moment the piece of metal was around his finger, her silent worries became audible to him.

"Quelaag? My dear sister, why are you silent? Are you unwell?"

He had never heard such a beautiful voice before. It was soothing and beautiful sickly as it may be. She sounded pained, as though speaking was very taxing to her. What interested him however was what she had said.

'Another Chaos Witch? I had thought that Quelaag was the only one down here. She must be blind, if she cannot see who is in front of her. She seems so ill, what has happened to her?'

His worse half abruptly butted in. 'What has happened is of no importance to you. No doubt it will try to kill you given the chance. Now is the time to strike, while it is unaware of your presence! Quickly, while it is still confused!

'NO! It is easy to see that she is unarmed and sentient. I have already killed one today, I will not kill another.' His cynical half scoffed in his mind.

'You do not know what her intentions are! You hesitated when fighting Quelaag, and where did that lead? You were nearly killed. Ending this beast would probably be a kindness anyway. It seems close to it already.' It seemed as though this side of his mind was growing more assertive. Everyday he found it harder and harder to resist it's heartless and calculating logic.

'This is not simply a matter of ending the life of a wild abomination! Killing a mindless beast is one thing, but this… this is murder. Quite honestly I'm tired of all of this senseless violence. I may have survived up until this point, but how much longer will I stay sane through all this death and destruction? If I could take the diplomats root at least once, I could at least be assured that my fighting is worth something meaningful in the end.'

'You are idiotic; optimism holds no place in this world. To get your hopes up in such a manner will only lead to disappointment.' The voice in his head started to rise, getting angrier and angrier.

If you hadn't noticed, you are at the bottom of a giant chasm filled to the brim with venomous monstrosities!' It shouted with fervor, 'To be more specific, you are standing in a giant spider demon's nest, currently facing down the queen of said nest! What good would it do being diplomatic do for you here? You cannot afford to focus on such things. In the end your survival is what matters most, anything else standing in your path is just another obstacle to be slain. You may not know of its intentions, but to end it's life would mean one less question for you to ask yourself. It is a cruel action, but a necessary one.'

He felt the voice go silent, having said it's piece. The Pilgrim was at odds with himself.

'Is it really better to have such ideals? To not have to worry about such things as morality and karma would certainly make decisions like this easier. Perhaps it is better that way. Where has being kind gotten me? Hollows do not care if you are kind, nor do the countless demons and black knights I have just barely defeated. Her sister did try to kill me after all, what makes me think she will be different?

His internal debate was interrupted when he heard the weak voice call out again.

"Quelaag, what is it? Are you all right? Please dear sister, you needn't take care of me so," she sucked in a raspy breath of air before continuing. "I am alright. It is not as bad as usual today."

She stopped talking here, and started to draw a few unsteady breaths. It seemed as though speaking pained her greatly. Hearing her words was all he needed to throw away his previous thinking.

'What am I saying? She is sickly. To kill such a thing like this would be… despicable. My other half may be speaking some truth but, I cannot think in such ways.' He analyzed what she had said a bit more. 'She is talking as if Quelaag took care of her. Is this who Quelaag was referring to when she was shouting that nonsense? But if that were true it would mean that…'

The realization hit him like Havel's Dragon Tooth.

'Quelaag was protecting her sister, not the bell. I have… What have I done?' He fell to his knees, his sword and shield clattering uselessly to his side. 'I have taken away this creature's only way of living. I have killed her caretaker, and doomed her in the process. And I was going to kill her too? Just like that? To murder such a pitiful and defenseless creature, in cold blood no less! Quelaag may have been a witch but … I am the real monster here.' He held his empty hands in silent horror in front of him.

These hands. They had killed a sane and sentient creature, and in that same moment condemned her sickly sibling.

In the wake of his revelation, Quelaag's sister seemed to build up enough energy to speak once again.

"Sister. I feel I may be … near the end. You must not … worry over me. But … please promise to … care for yourself." If his heart had not broken before, it was completely shattered now. Behind his sturdy helm, he felt tears threatening to break through his previously manly exterior.

'Get a hold of yourself you blubbering idiot! Current situation aside you cannot allow yourself to sink into such a depression!'

'But I have taken apart a family. I have blindly separated two loving sisters, and in my blindness I have doomed both.' He found himself growing angrier at his worse half. How dare that voice in his head take this crime so lightly?

'You could not possibly understand, you are an evil half, filled to the brim with dark thoughts. You know nothing of such sorrow!'

His other half almost sounded offended when he spoke next. 'Despite my nature, I am not as wicked as you think. I am not here to simply plague you with harsh words. I am rationality! Your inner survivalist! The suggestions I present are not to spite you. They are to get you stronger! They help you survive this hell you are experiencing. I have been offering you advice since you started this journey!'

The Pilgrim paused in his silent sobs. After some thought he realized that the voice was right! This harsh voice in his head was cold and heartless. But it was also the same voice that told him to fight. It was what told him to when to dodge, when to block, and when to strike.

'I can see now that you are not willing to change your mind from this path. But let me offer one more piece of advice. Get up, stop sobbing, and be a man! Solve the problem that you have created! MAKE IT RIGHT!'

With this shout the voice grew silent, satisfied that the Pilgrim had finally learned the truth. Slowly he got off his knees, picking up his sword and shield in the process. His tears no longer blurred his vision, and he felt like he could see clearly for the first time in a long while.

He steadily walked towards the being before him. The sickly woman's head quirked up slightly at the sound of his heavy footsteps, and she called out quietly.

"Quelaag? Is that you?" Despite his newfound resolve he did not yet have the heart to tell this poor creature the fate of her sister. He had never been good with words. In fact the longest he had ever spoken was probably about two sentences. And so quietly, almost inaudible, he uttered a single word.

"Yes."

Her face brightened considerably, and the serene smile that had been on her face before returned ten-fold. Her eyes however betrayed her expression, and the worry in her voice was evident.

"Quelaag, you sound … strange, have you been … crying? Please, sister, do not cry. I'm happy, truly. I have you, don't I?" The karma he had received was really coming back to bite him now. Despite his guilt, he nodded. More for himself than her, although she seemed to almost sense his movement, as her face relaxed considerably.

'What did the creature at the entrance say to me? I was paying more attention to the bonfire in front of me than his words. He had said something about being a new servant. He had also called her something. What had he said? The Gentle Lady? The Good Woman? The … Fair Lady! That was it. It may not work, but his plan was one of the only ways he could try and redeem himself. Once again his confidence died in his throat, and his words became quiet and meek.

"Please … my Fair Lady … I wish for … A Covenant." This seemed to confuse her; he hoped that he had not said anything suspicious.

"Enter a Covenant, again…?" She seemed to shrug off her confusion. "Of course. Let me try …"

The Pilgrim was thankful that Petrus had shown him how Covenants were performed. He bowed his head slightly in silent prayer, committing himself to her as a loyal servant. At the same time she welcomed him into her peerage with open arms. A warm sensation began emanating from his chest and slowly increased in intensity. It was almost painful by the time it had made its peak. As the slightly unsettling sensation that washed over him drifted away he felt renewed, and slightly better about his situation. Although the burning sensation had gone away, the warm feeling inside his core was still there. It would probably do him good to look into this feeling, and what it could mean.

But now was not the time for him to dwell on such things.

'With this act of devotion, I am on the path to atone for my sins. But I must not stop here. To truly make up for the crimes that I have committed I must do more for her than this.

"And please, sister. There is no need … for such formal titles. We are family … after all." The guilt was almost unbearable, but he feared that if he were to tell her of her sister's fate, it would absolutely crush her. It may even kill her. He could not tell her the truth, not yet.

Quietly, and trying to keep his voice at a higher pitch than usual he replied once again with his softest tone.

"Of course … sister."

Her face lit up with a large smile after he had said those words.

"Thank you … Quelaag. I know … humanity is rare. To go to such lengths … for me alone … thank you." So his humanity had been what Quelaag was after. She had been giving to her sister for some sort of sustenance. And now, he had eliminated her only means of staying alive.

'I could at least give her the few humanity I have with me. But this is not a long-term solution. The only way I could think of would be to constantly bring her any humanity I find. What of my quest? I will have to be coming back here for her time and time again. It would become very annoying. But I owe her! I must take responsibility for my actions! I have killed her previous caretaker, now I must take up the mantle.'

'To be so ready to give away your life like this,' there he was. The Pilgrim was beginning to worry for his pessimistic self. 'Are you sure you wish for this to happen? What of your previous quest?'

'I may be able to do both. I have gathered this much humanity going about my previous business; all I have to do is search more thoroughly. Besides, I am undead. I have until the world ends to finish it.'

With his decision made, he shuffled closer to the woman in front of him. The sound carried to the girls sensitive ears, and she inclined her head in question. The Pilgrim muttered softly.

"Humanity."

Before she could give any kind of answer to his statement, he once again bowed his head in prayer and concentrated. The contents he held inside his darksign appeared in his mind, and he singled out his small collection of humanity from the rest. After separating them, he began to visualize transferring the humanity from himself to her. The energy slowly left his body, and he already began to feel the hollowness that they had left in their wake. He quickly smothered the feeling, and began to pour all of the humanity into here being. It latched on quickly, eager for something to hold onto. The effect it had on her was immediate.

"Ooh!" She seemed surprised. She must have been expecting one or two. Having such an influx of the precious substance must have been a bit of an overload to her.

"Thank you, Quelaag." The relief in her voice was evident. A large burden seemed to have been lifted from her, and he heard her breath a slight sigh of comfort. He felt ecstatic that he could bring his Fair Lady even a miniscule amount of relief, and it only motivated him further to get more for her. He softly spoke his thoughts.

"I will … find more."

Her dejected tone of voice made her opinion of his leaving clear, although she tried to keep her voice as kind as it had been before.

"Goodbye … Quelaag." The sadness in her voice almost made him turn back around. However he had a job to do, he could not dally much longer. Before he could leave he was suddenly stopped by the strange egg-sack creature, which had been sitting obediently in the corner.

"… You, you speak the tongue of the fair lady?" The Pilgrim nodded slightly, "… well, do not be rash with your pride. You have yet to earn my trust. If you try anything funny with our Fair Lady, there will be hell to pay." The creature, which he would later discover was named Eingyi, was dark and menacing when he uttered his final phrase.

Now usually when faced with such a threat the Pilgrim would tread lightly around the speaker and do as he was told. No use getting a potential friend angry. Lords know how valuable friends were here. But he found that the pitiful position this undead was currently in coupled with the fact that he would never hurt his Fair Lady made for a much funnier situation. He had to hold in a bark of laughter as he uttered his only reply.

"I would never." After he had said this he quickly exited the small room and made his way back through the short path. This was not just the start of a new quest he realized; this was the start of an entirely new life.

After carefully watching the strange man depart, Eingyi was almost positive he heard laughter echoing in the distance.

Well that took a while. And I will definitely go back and revise it if you guys point out any mistakes. Lord knows they're there. Maybe the whole thing is just written badly. In witch case I might just stop. But watevs. Tell me what y'all think.

And remember Kids!

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