Long ago, before Anor Londo was abandoned, it was a great and prosperous city, thriving with life. Merchants set up stalls along the streets, selling all manner of exotic goods and jewelry. Artisans toiled in their workshops to create great crafts. Even the gods themselves would walk freely among their people, beloved by all. Despite its wondrous exterior, however, the city housed a darker side. Fear of the unknown led to prejudice against that which did not fit in, and there was one who they hated most.
In a dark alley behind a small chapel, Priscilla sat quietly on the ground, her back leaned up against the white brick wall. The alley was spotlessly clean – for, indeed, everything in Anor Londo was – but it was still a rather dreary place, devoid of light. Priscilla was younger then, somewhat shorter, and her white hair barely touched her shoulders. Over her fur coat, she wore a thick black cloak with a hood, no doubt intended to obscure her features. Her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, jolting her into action. Looking around quickly to see if she had any food left, she sighed as she saw nothing. Hesitantly, Priscilla stood up and pulled the hood over her head, strolling slowly out of the alleyway.
There was a small bakery not far from her alley, so she gradually made her way there. A figure wearing a black cloak in the middle of a sunny day was odd, so Priscilla naturally attracted some stares from passerby. Still, it was better than what she usually dealt with, she thought. Arriving at the bakery, she was instantly taken by the scents of baked goods. It had been quite a while since she had gotten fresh food. Stepping inside, she saw that there was only one other customer, a rich-looking gentleman dressed in fine robes. He was examining various loaves of bread carefully, but didn't seem all that interested in eating anything. Slowly, Priscilla approached the counter.
"I wouldst have one of thine largest loaves, if I may? …..Perchance, a sweetroll as well?" Priscilla asked politely. The baker glanced over at her for a moment before heading back into the back of the bakery. He emerged a moment later, holding a large loaf and a small roll in a basket.
"Two-thousand." he said gruffly. Priscilla reached into her cloak and produced a glowing mass of souls, which she handed over to the baker. As the baker was going to hand her the basket with the bread, he looked up at her for a moment and caught a glimpse of the horns on her face below the hood. "Thou art the dragon witch! I toldeth thou, never come here again!" he roared, brandishing a shortsword from under the counter. Priscilla could have used her powers to kill him on the spot, but that would make her a murderer. Instead, she turned and fled from the store as quickly as she could, leaving her food behind.
Within the hour, Priscilla was back in her alleyway, her head buried in her hands. Now, not only was she hungry, but she was miserable as well. People had hated her and ostracized her all her life, but it was still painful every time. She hadn't chosen to be born that way. Her moping was quickly interrupted, however, by the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked up slowly and saw a man approaching her down the alley. Priscilla was paralyzed with fear as the man stepped into view. To her surprise, it was the rich noble that she had seen at the bakery.
"Ah, I thought thou had come this way. Thou art hungry, no?" the noble said, holding out a basket full of bread. Priscilla recoiled instinctively when the man raised his hand. The noble's eyes softened, and spoke again gently. "I shalt not hurt thee. Be calm." he said, setting the bread down beside Priscilla. True to his word, the man did not seem to bear any hostility. In fact, he didn't even seem to be armed. Priscilla was rather confused. No-one was ever kind to her.
"Who art thou? Doth thou not knoweth who I am?" Priscilla asked him curiously. The man laughed lightly and shook his head.
"I am Lord Ariamis. Perhaps thou hath seen my many works? As for thee, all of Anor Londo knows. Thou art Priscilla the crossbreed." Ariamis explained. Priscilla's eyes widened when she heard the man's name. Ariamis's paintings were legendary, and his name was spoken across the city.
"Why art thou here? …..Did thou runeth out of pompous nobles to paint?" Priscilla asked, with more than a hint of bitterness. Ariamis frowned slightly.
"Thou seemed hungry." he replied sincerely, gesturing to the bread. Priscilla simply stared at him suspiciously. Who knows what might be in that bread? This was obviously some sort of trap. Seeing the look on her face, Ariamis grabbed a roll from the basket and bit into it heartily. "See? No poison. Enjoy thyself!" he said, gesturing to the bread again. Hesitantly, Priscilla grabbed a loaf of bread and devoured it, even hungrier than she had realized.
"I thanketh thee, Lord Ariamis." Priscilla said, suddenly feeling very happy. Ariamis smiled, but then suddenly looked up at the sky.
"Oh dear, the time doth fly! I must take my leave. Wouldst thou let me visit again tomorrow?" Ariamis asked politely. Priscilla nodded heartily as she enjoyed yet another piece of bread. Without further ado, Ariamis turned and strode out of the alley.
Ariamis would come to visit Pricilla every day from then on, bringing interesting stories about upper-class life. For her part, Priscilla preferred to listen rather than speak. Eventually, after many weeks, Ariamis invited Priscilla to visit his home. He said that he had been working on something special, just for her.
As she arrived at Ariamis's home, Pricilla was taken aback by its size. She knew that Ariamis was a rich man, but his home was quite the mansion indeed. Stepping inside, she saw to her surprise that the interior was actually quite messy. Art supplies were strewn about, and splotches of paint lined the walls and floor. Blank canvasses sat stacked in corners, gathering dust. Priscilla slowly made her way into the main hall of the mansion, and was suddenly stunned by the sight she saw. In the center of the hall sat an enormous painting of a winter landscape, with Ariamis kneeling below it, seemingly adding some finishing touches. Hearing Priscilla's approach, he quickly turned around to face her, beaming.
"Ah, Lady Priscilla! Thou made it! Doth thou like thou painting?" he asked, motioning towards the painted landscape. Priscilla's jaw dropped, and she stammered for a moment.
"This painting... thou made it for me? Truly?" she asked, shocked. This was a generous gesture indeed, so much that Priscilla was overcome by it. Ariamis nodded cheerfully, and produced a small doll from his pocket. Priscilla tilted her head curiously, as Ariamis began to explain.
"Tis no mere painting, for I hath enchanted it. Clutcheth tightly to this doll, and thou shalt be drawn into the lands of yonder painting. If thou art ever in need of a safe place..." he elaborated, handing the doll to Priscilla, who was still somewhat overwhelmed. "Oh, wouldst thou care to stay with me? I doth have a spare bed." Ariamis added.
"Of course! I hath not had a bed in ages! Truly, Lord Ariamis, thou art too kind." Priscilla replied, smiling excitedly. True to his word, Ariamis allowed Priscilla to live with him, though she dared not venture outside of his home. Still, his house was far nicer than a dingy alleyway, and she never had to worry about running out of food. For the first time in her life, Priscilla felt like a normal girl. This must have been what life was like for everyone else in Anor Londo.
Unfortunately, her happiness could not last. Rumors began to spread amongst Ariamis's neighbors that he was sheltering the hated crossbreed. More importantly, however, the gods of Anor Londo had learned of her lifehunt ability. Early one morning, just as Priscilla began to awaken, there came a knocking on the door. Opening the door slowly, Ariamis saw a Silver Knight captain standing before him, armor glinting in the sunlight.
"Lord Ariamis, I doth seeketh the crossbreed girl. Rumor says that thou art keeping her here." the Silver Knight said authoritatively. Ariamis frowned and crossed his arms.
"Since when, may I ask thee, did the servants of the gods heed rumor?" he asked coolly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. The Silver Knight stepped forward intimidatingly, but Ariamis did not falter.
"Her powers hath been deemed a threat to the safety of our great city. She shalt be held indefinitely until a verdict can be reached. Doth thou knoweth her location?" the Silver Knight asked harshly. Ariamis shook his head, but at the moment, Priscilla, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, tripped and came into view. "Ah ha! Stay where thou art, crossbreed!" the Knight commanded, shoving his way past Ariamis and dashing towards Priscilla. Without thinking about it, Priscilla clasped her hands together in fear, and out of nowhere appeared a vicious razor-sharp scythe, as if it had been drawn from her very soul.
Seeing that Priscilla had a weapon, the Silver Knight drew his sword and slashed at Priscilla quickly. She jumped out of the way of the slash and, instinctively, swung her enormous scythe through the air. As the blade sliced through the air, it channeled Priscilla's lifehunt power, leaving a deep bleeding gash on the knight, who collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Priscilla looked down at her hands in shock.
"It seems... even the gods doth despise me. I truly have no place in this world." she said shakily, trying to fight back tears. Ariamis stood in the doorway, stunned by what had happened, before running over to Priscilla. "Goodbye, Lord Ariamis." Priscilla said sadly, clutching the doll that Ariamis had given her tightly. As Ariamis stretched out his hand to her, she was gone in a flash, transported into the realm of the painting, where she would remain for all time.