Notes:

This story seeks out to tell the tale of the final years of the Kingdom of Lothric, exploring all the open plot threads from the DS3 game: the rise of the Angelic Faith, the Demon Prince campaign, the truth behind Lothric's curse, and the origin of the cursed bond the twin princes share.

I used existing Dark Souls characters wherever it could be lore appropriate, but did have to resort to creating characters to fill in certain gaps. Also there will be certain similarities to some well-accepted fan theories around the lore of Dark Souls, since this work was intended to imagine what events in Lothric led to the final world state players explore in Dark Souls 3, but the vast majority is my own attempt to construct a timeline based on the lore available.

This is Gen fic so there's no shipping involved, just a pure exploration of the tale of the Kingdom of Lothric from Lothric and Lorian's perspectives. If shipping is what you'relooking for, I'd recommend you check out my alternate version of this fic (not available on FFN), Rejecting Martyrdom ( Ao3/works/32526886 ).

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Throughout Lothric's childhood and into his adolescence, High Priestess Emma devoted herself to him almost entirely, leaving Lorian's care to the other wet nurses. Lothric was perpetually sick and frail, often confined to his room unable to move from his bed, meaning he was forced to typically take his studies in his room under the tutelage of High Priestess Emma as well as several scholars sent from the Grand Archives by King Oceiros.

Lorian, on the other hand, was growing strong, sturdy, and devoted. He knew by now, as the whole kingdom did, what was expected of Lothric and the sacrifice he would be forced to make. Though he also knew that unless a true miracle occurred, Lothric would never be capable of carrying out such a task on his own and living to tell the tale. So Lorian took it upon himself to train and prove himself worthy to his father, who believed him to be useless when compared to his brother who had been born with the cursed dragon-kin traits. But beyond his father's approval, Lorian wished to become strong enough to protect Lothric, who could do nothing but suffer the consequences of his father's imposed hubris.

The ideal of sacrifice was inscribed in every corner of the castle. It was a part of the culture since Gwyn had first committed to linking the fire, and the tradition had continued ever since. All across the castle were various homages and tributes to the art of self sacrifice. Statues of knights that held their own blades to their throats. Basins of blood. Paintings of men engulfed in fire. The message was clear: to sacrifice oneself for the sake of others was the noblest death of all.

For the majority of their childhood, Lorian and Lothric rarely saw or spoke to each other as Lothric was confined to his room by sickness and by the King's order in hopes that Lothric would grow stronger. Eventually Lothric had more good days than bad and was able to make his way through the castle unassisted most days, but Oceiros gave up on his hope that Lothric would recover into a healthy child. He resigned himself back to the Grand Archives to continue his research. Though Lothric would still be the Lord of Cinder, Oceiros would continue his search to make the perfect heir.

With Oceiros absent and the Queen of Lothric away from the kingdom, the castle became much more relaxed, no longer finding a need to impose the King's demands of confinement. In the evenings, after training with the various knights under the command of Knight General Godwyn, Lorian would retire and join Lothric for dinner. Some days it was in the great hall, other days it was in his room, all depending on how much Lothric could will himself to move that day before tiring or falling ill.

"Hello, dear brother," Lothric greeted, already seated at their table in the great hall. His words were soft though emotionless, near a whisper as they scratched out of his throat. Lothric's head gently rested atop one knee, his leg curled under him in the chair. Entirely improper posture for a Prince, but no one would dare speak out against it, least of all Lorian who cared not for such formalities when he knew his brother would likely be in more pain if he sat properly.

"Brother," Lorian replied, bowing his head slightly in greeting as he took the seat across from Lothric. "How fared your studies with Master Orbeck and Mistress Kriemhild today?"

"They are teaching me such fascinating things," Lothric replied, his lips contorting into a smirk as he caught Lorian's eye. "Tell me, were you injured at all during your training today?"

Lorian took a moment to consider, before answering. Most of the wounds he had from training were inconsequential - bruises, sprains, and the like. Recently he had insisted on training with real blades and armor to better prepare himself for a true fight in the world. "A shallow cut on my forearm, but it will heal quickly."

Across from him, Lothric held out his hand expectantly, "Show me."

Without hesitation, Lorian rolled up the sleeve on his right arm and placed his wrist in his brother's open hand. The wound had already scabbed over and any trace of it would likely be gone in a few days time. He watched as Lothric placed his other hand atop the wound and dragged him closer.

Lothric bowed his head, chanting words under his breath just quietly enough that Lorian could not hear them. As he chanted, a white light collected in his hands along with a feeling of warmth. The light sank into his arm beneath the skin on Lothric's hands, and soon Lorian felt the warmth crawl up his arm and spread to every part of his body, though most of the warmth coiled around his chest and settled. He looked at Lothric as his brother let go of his arm. Where the wound used to be there was now only unbroken skin - as if the wound had never occurred.

Before Lorian could begin to ask, Lothric spoke, "Miracles. Ironic feats of magic, only possible from worship to the very Gods whose fumbling grasp at a continued existence and power is the shackle to my grave."

"And yet you choose to learn them?"

"Dear brother, I will learn them because they will give me power where I otherwise have none. You and I both know I will never rightly wield my holy sword." He practically spat the words out of his mouth. "Indeed if I am to fulfill my duty and complete my sacrifice, I will still need to confront the Soul of Cinder to prove myself worthy to kindle the flame. I must have some means."

"You will not have to take on that burden alone, Lothric," He said, withdrawing his hand so he could begin eating properly. "When that day comes, I will fight by your side."

"You are naive to think Father will allow you to accompany me - to taint my sacrifice with your lack of worth." Lothric's words were harsh and would have cut deep if he had spoken them with even an ounce of emotion. But his words were hollow, simply a parroting of their Father's words spoken time and time again.

"I will prove myself worthy."

"To whom?" Lothric asked as he slowly ate; his clawed grip on the utensil was clumsy, but after so many years it hardly phased him anymore. He waved it dismissively as he continued, "Father has left with the Crystal Sage on a search for knowledge, he would be unable to stop you even if he desired to. And in his absence, I suppose I am the highest authority here."

They ate in silence until Lorian set down the last of his now empty dishes and tilted his head slightly in thought. "Then I will prove myself worthy to you."

Silence weighed heavily between them as Lothric stared at Lorian, the utensil paused at the corner of his lips for several moments before his lips curved and trembled as a dry laugh escaped him. He grinned at Lorian, a spark of life in his eyes that Lorian rarely ever saw, "My dearest brother, you do not need to prove anything to me. But, I will humor you if that is what you desire. Now tell me, how will you prove your worth to me?"

"What would impress you?" Lorian asked.

"Firstly, an escort back to my chamber would suffice. Though I was strong enough to make my way here, it seems I overestimated my strength today."

He waited and watched as Lorian stood and made his way around the table to Lothric's side, extending his arm. "Can you stand?"

"I believe I will manage." Lothric agreed, wrapping his arms around Lorian's elbow, leaning the majority of his weight against him. Slowly they began making their way through the castle back to his room. "Traditionally, a King has his champion display his strength by killing a strong foe and presenting its corpse. I care not which beast, or if it is a beast at all, or indeed if you slay anything. This is simply the first thought that presents itself."

They eventually reached Lothric's room and Lorian pressed the door until it opened revealing an empty chamber. Some evenings there would be Emma or another servant awaiting their frail Prince's return, but not this night. As he approached the bed, Lorian shifted and lifted Lothric up, holding him for a moment before gently setting him on the bed. While Lothric made himself comfortable, he called out, "Forgive me, Lorian, but I am weary. Let us speak more tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Lothric," Lorian said quietly from the doorway as he exited the room.

He knew Lothric wasn't serious when he suggested such a task, but he still couldn't shake the thought as he tried to sleep that evening. In all his years growing up, he had followed the same routine. He would train with Godwyn in the mornings, and study with Emma in the afternoons. The evenings were either more training, silent studies in his room, or on rare occasions like this evening, he would be able to see his brother. Now, Lothric had opened his mind to the possibilities outside of his routine. No one could stop him if he decided to leave at this very moment.

And now he had a reason to leave.

He had purpose.