On the night of the Hunt, when the beasts prowled about the city in every-increasing number, there was little the common folk could do. They locked their doors, said their prayers, and lit their incense. The sharp, tangy scent was one of the few things that repelled the beasts, but if the night dragged long, even that was of little help. The hunters were themselves little better than their prey, but what is said about desperate times yet rings true.
There was a quick rapping at the door. A strange, lighthearted rhythm. Certainly not the pounding and scraping of a beast's claws. Still, there were worse things that stalked the nights of Yharnam. She approached the peephole nervously, catching a whiff of a peculiar, wet, marshy smell.
"Oh, my, what a queer scent…" she said out loud by mistake. "But I'd take it over the stench of blood and beasts any day." She quickly turned to business: "What is it, then? I'm off during hunts, so if that's what you're here for, I'll leave you to your own devices. If that doesn't do it, come back in the morning, darling."
A lady of the night she was, but not on the night of the Hunt. Still, the hunter she spied through the glass looked pleasant enough. Kind eyes and a confident grin.
"Uh. No, no. I'm, uh, happily married," he said, as if that meant anything to her usual clients. "And besides, you've got nothing on- my wife's big butt, and I cannot lie! You paid ladies can't deny!"
Prostitute or no, she was momentarily stunned by such explicit sexuality – from a hunter, no less. Fortunately, the shock cleared her mind of the dreamy fear that oppressed the night. She could smell the hunter's strange, earthy scent through the incense. She didn't even need to look at the last remnants of the smoldering stick in the dish.
"You're a hunter, right?" she said, interrupting his song. "Might you know of a safe place? The night is long and I've very little of the incense left… Please, there must be some nice place to run off to?"
"-my Darkstalker don't want-! Oh! Right, that's actually why I'm here."He sobered rather quickly. Now that night's fallen, my wife and I are going around and saving everyone, whether they like it or not. You, actually," he sighed, "are in particular danger."
"How could that be?" she said suspiciously. "I can't believe the beasts would be choosy about their blood, or if they did, that they would lust after a whore's."
Perhaps this hunter was like the others after all. There should be no reason for the special attention. Even if he somehow knew her (and he didn't look like a customer), it would be simple enough to send her along with the others.
"It's not the beasts you need to worry about. It's a god."
He didn't elaborate. The words slowly sank in, but they only confused her more.
"I… don't understand."
"Byrgenwerth unearthed something that is both a history and a prophecy: 'When the red moon hangs low, the line between man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child.' The holy mother is chosen from a certain bloodline. You are the last of that bloodline in Yharnam."
"A bloodline? Surely, thatcouldn't be me."
"How long have you had that dress?"
She unwittingly looked down at the worn crimson and gold.
"I… what?"
"That style of dress is particular to your heritage, and your lineage is obvious to anyone who inspects or uses your blood."
"And you would know these things?" she hissed, almost backing away from the door but restrained by curiosity.
"Well, I'm the prophet of a different god. Incidentally, my god would be totally okay with your fate, but she's a terrible person, so let's go ahead and avoid that.I mean, I know I sound like some sort of creeper right now, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to lose your sanity giving birth to a star god. I mean, I've seen the future. Your baby's cuter than my brother-in-law, but that's not saying much. Wait, don't tell my wife I said that."
Ah, she understood now. The remark about the dress had spooked her, but there was no cause for alarm. The blood had gotten to this one, but he was passive, at least. No real danger save the ever-dwindling incense. Dare she risk taking the madman's advice?
"Let's say I believe you. Will you take me someplace safe?"
"Of course! Mind, I'll need to speak with the jerk across the street first, but he can find his own way to safety. We have a much more 'involved' path ahead of us."
She hesitated, but there was no guarantee that any of the other hunters would even bother saving someone like her. If she would die, it would not be cowering in the dark. Licking her lips, she pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the moonlit night.
It was only many hours later that she realized the full scope of her mistake.
First came the surprise that the hunter's wife actually existed and was neither a corpse nor a beast. The woman was quite pleasant, actually, despite her vulgar choice in attire. Ofttimes, the hunter would run off ahead to face some danger or another, leaving his partner to watch over their companion. She and the huntress spoke frankly about their respective pasts until the words came naturally. It seemed that the huntress had come to Yharnam from another large city overrun by beasts.
Strange as the husband might have been, she gained a measure of appreciation for him from his wife's words. Only, it seemed that he alone knew their destination. As they passed the Grand Cathedral and passed through the woods to theHemwick Charnel Lane of ill repute, she grew worried. It wasn't until she saw the horses that she grew truly frightened. They were dead, rotten flesh black as midnight, yet they thundered in with that ruined carriage like the wrath of a god.
The hunter was not surprised, and the huntress found the surprise pleasant rather than horrifying. The whore wanted to flee, but where could she go? Follow the path of carnage back to the beast-stalked streets? She gripped the hem of her gown tightly to hide the quivering of her hands and took her seat beside the huntress in that unholy carriage.
At long last, it came to a stop. The possessed door opened of its own will once more, and she suddenly found herself shivering from cold in addition to fear. Before was a great castle, capped with snow. She wondered briefly why she had not noticed the icy chill before, but when the woefully-underdressed huntress placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she almost recoiled from the heat. Inside the walls, the two of them waited outside, taking shelter under the roof of a small building while the husband ran past hideous monsters toward the main gate.
After a frozen eternity, the shuttered door of the building opened as the hunter waved them into the elevator. At the top was a magnificent library, yet there was no time to peruse the collected works. The three of them climbed a long ladder to the highest floor. From there, they climbed a stairwell up a turret and onto the slippery castle roof. The huntress kept a steady grip on her as they hurried away from living gargoyles of all things.
At last, they reached an archway.
"Okay, just chill here- That was a poor choice of words. Don't freeze to death."
"Here," the huntress said emphatically, drawing a cloak from one of her husband's bags while glaring at him. "We'll be back shortly."
Through the iron rails, the whore – who had been living quite an ordinary life until this point – watched a madman and an exhibitionist fight a flying corpse wielding a scythe and summoning giant skulls out of thin air. She took her head into her hands and wondered if perhaps she hadn't fallen asleep. But then the blood-splattered duo returned for her, and the three of them entered the hall on the far side. Past the ornate columns and gilded statues of horsemen was another room. Here, the statuary was not so orderly, but rather was strewn about the room haphazardly among overturned dishes and candelabra as if guests milling about a ball.
Still, there was a clear path ahead, to the white light of the moon streaming in through the window on the far side. Beneath it was a pair of thrones. If she squinted, she could just barely make out a figure seated on the right.
"Visitors…" a voice whispered as if directly into her ear.
"Yo, Annalise!" another voice shouted from directly beside her ear. "We brought you a relative!"
"Impossible," the first hissed. "We are undone."
"Look, you say that, but there's also some lunatic running around in one of your helmets, killing people with a Chikage!"
The whore was already exhausted from the journey – did the hunter really need to shout like that?
"Anyway, this is Arianna! She needs a place to stay, and you're a lonely old hikikomori."
"Ari… Arianna… you say…"
As the trio grew close, they could see the source of the voice was indeed someone seated upon the right throne. A pale woman in a long-faded gown, slumped over in the seat – though from exhaustion or the weight of the metal helm she wore remained to be seen.
"I apologize for my consort's rudeness," the huntress said, bowing her head only slightly. "Hail, Queen of Cainhurst. I am Quelaag, Queen of Izalith. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Forgive us if we do not rise," the seated queen said absently. "We are bound and bloodstarved. A pleasure, truly. Now, this girl, Arianna. Who is she?"
"An orphan, from what she has spoken of," Quelaag replied. "The dress she wears is the sole possession she retains from her parents. She was wrapped in it when delivered to the orphanage."
"Circumstantial evidence. Such gowns were common and this one likely stolen."
"That is quite possible, and you would certainly know more about it than I. Her blood, however, is quite conclusive proof, isn't it? Wouldn't a queen with an empty court be eager to learn of lost kin?"
Annalise shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Of course. Yet I have only your word to trust-"
"My consort is a prophet, so when he says that this girl is your kin, it is absolutely true. Now, I don't care what excuses you may make or why. Will you shelter the girl or will you not?"
"Enough. We will do so, if only that you may leave us in peace."
Arianna looked at the expressionless mask, then to the burning gaze of the huntress. She certainly wouldn't mind staying in a castle, though cold and empty. Still, it seemed rather abrupt to be thrust upon an unwilling host. The hunter couple shared a gaze, then turned to her.
"We'll check up on you when we can," the husband said.
"Take care of yourself," the wife added, patting her on the shoulder. "Don't fear – you're in good hands."
They both walked away several paces and held out their hands as if reaching toward something. Wispy trails began to run off their bodies, and in a moment, they had completely sublimated to a dreamy fog. She was alone with the masked queen.
"Do not misunderstand," the older woman said faintly. "You are fortunate not to share our corrupted blood. When the Church returns to finish us, you will be spared."