Welcome back bootiful people.
Start.
Menma bathed in the afterglow of his latest conquest, Gwynevere nestled into his side as they lay on the softest bed he'd ever had the pleasure of being on. She pat her stomach and looked at him, no serene smile that she wore for everyone, just a lazy grin she bore for him. "Well I will not speak before the sun rises, but I will assume something has taken root." Menma chuckled, pulling her into him more.
"I imagine that it'll come out quite interesting." He said, getting a curious look, "A Lord of Dark and a Lady of Light, we've got a little child of twilight on our hands. I always did enjoy that time of day." He admitted, when the sun was seconds away from fully setting, for a moment the sky would be cast in grey.
"Interesting indeed, husband."
"Speaking of, isn't there supposed to be some big ceremony or something?" He asked, never really picked up on Godly pledges of eternity.
"If you desire, though strictly speaking I just have to declare our intent and give you a token of the day. To represent your link to me."
"Sugar momma, huh?" He asked rhetorically, amused at her slightly confused expression, he pecked her forehead, "Don't worry about it, well if it's no big deal I suppose rings would suffice, yes? It's not imperative but it's probably one of the easiest ways to show you're taken."
"I suppose you are correct, you do already have a necklace, another would be too flashy or cumbersome." She observed, looking at the stone amulet for a moment. "Tis made of dragonstone is it not?"
"It is." He said, she was already caught up on what he was given by the Stone Dragon, and why it was needed. It would seem with age came wisdom, because unlike Gwyndolin, his Gwyndolin, Gwynevere didn't flip her tits and try to run him through.
It was interesting, the idea of having children never really crossed his mind. Mostly due to his being the first born, second child of the family, for as big a dick-hungry homo that his brother was he was still the heir.
Ugh, that was a good way to sour a mood if ever there was one.
Weeks Later
Life had been good for all in Anor Londo, Menma had been slotted in as a fucking King of all things, that was awesome. With Gwyn certainly not coming back Gwynevere announced their marriage and their ascendance to the throne. He got a sweet crown and everything, it was awesome.
Also while ruling a city-state wasn't something he'd done before it didn't turn out to be that hard, mostly just common sense. The education system was in a pretty shabby state, so pushing money into that and skimming some off the military budget wasn't exactly so counter-productive that the soldiers would revolt. There was already a little too much into it either way. It was a bit of a chore to put the idea that the future of the humans in Anor Londo lay in their children but he'd managed it, if all else failed he could just pull on their souls.
That was actually something Gwynevere did profess to enjoy the most, as it solved almost all problems that came from the humans, a little tug here and a pull there and conflicts were pulled away at the seams.
Menma sat on a gilded throne, the sun pouring through stained glass windows behind him, oddly enough he was being addressed on his own today. Once more in dark cloth though sporting a sleeveless turtleneck and baggy hakama in place of his tunic and trousers. His horns out, but his wings held within his body to accommodate the throne.
"So Ciaran." He said to his side, the woman coming from the shadows and standing at his side, "What exactly is there to do, aside from just... existing."
"That depends on your job." She answered, amusedly. "I don't imagine you'll be up and fighting great battles any time soon, my King." She'd softened to him considerably, and was more than happy to trade barbs, without a filter.
"Tsk, bloody hell. So what, I just sit around until the humans need something?"
"Most of the hierarchy find hobbies to stave off the boredom, milord."
"Fuck it, I'll go play with Gwyndolin." He said with a shake of his head, rising off his throne and walking down the steps, "Don't 'spose you know where she is?"
"In her room, my lord." Answered Ciaran.
"Cheers sunshine."
Months Later; Dukes Archives
Menma was guided through the facility by one of the Channelers, the large human and his trident were the least interesting things when one considered the sheer amount of knowledge accrued in this monolithic library. That and the crystalized hollow-like creatures that dwelled within, apparently they were there as muscle should the Archive come under assault and before their change they were the rotten dregs of society.
Menma didn't really care where they came from, the results were interesting enough. That aside he had Seath to thank for Priscilla. If the little hints that Orange had been dropping to entice him this way was anything to go by.
"My Lord Seath, a visitor!" Announced the Channeler as they approached a room at the top of an elevator shaft and through a crystal encrusted room, a rumble was his answer and the Channeler opened the door, "He will see you, milord." Menma bowed his head to fit through the door and was hit full force by the sight of crystals, like... fucking everywhere. Seath sat on a small throne, probably not what it was intended to look like considering the fact Seath was a dragon and they had no real care for monarchies in the Age of Ancients.
"Welcome, to my domain. Lord of Dark... is there a particular business to your visit or it pleasure?" Seath's ethereal voice snaked into his mind, the crystals giving a soft thrum with each syllable that entered his skull.
"Pleasure, Seath. I simply wished to become more acquainted with the man who gave holds the title 'Grandfather of Sorcery'." Menma informed, Seath rumbled and nodded, blind eyes shifting to stare at him in full. Orange was scrawled all along the walls, telling him the creature could not see him, but his ears were so honed that it worked in a manner of echolocation. To 'see' him.
It was likely that he simply stared out of habit.
Menma cracked his neck and released his wings, scales and horns, the creature's reptilian maw was pulled into a bastardized version of a smirk. "I figured you'd appreciate the honesty of this form, my friend."
"Indeed. A curious creature you are. Are the whispers of your apparent beginnings as a simple human, fact? Or fiction, created by the masses." Seath queiried.
"Fact. If you so desire I can give you the full tale. I'm not exactly shy with sharing my knowledge." Seath grinned, pearly white teeth almost indistinguishable from the near translucent white skin of the towering dragon.
"I would appreciate this."
"To be put simply, I was a simple man pulled from my world into this knot of a multiverse. I was branded with a curse, and near immediately I was given a link to the other 'Chosen Undead' and by proxy an entity I have dubbed 'Orange'. It fed me knowledge, mountains of it, all that my peers had accrued over their years in this strange, twisted land. I ventured through Lordran but was taken to the Asylum to the north, my body weak and fragile from the Curses' hunger. Jump ahead and I found myself exploring Lordran once more, a free man. Onset by Hollows and wretched monstrosities, but I found solace in this land. People who kept me sane and the like." If Seath was displeased with how much he was summarizing his journeys thus far the creature did not show it, or simply didn't care.
He told the creature more, it was cathartic to see how far he'd come. The trials and tribulations seemed more self inflicted than anything else in hindsight, but aside from a few poor decisions there's little he'd change.
"I must now simply bide my time until I can return to my present, I will take parts of Lordran I wish before I leave and this fetid land can burn for all I care. The people are lovely creatures but the humans will die off, I need to look out for the interests of those under my immediate care. And thus we find the end of my story and a query I must ask myself. What am I do to with you, Seath?" After many minutes of silence Seath simply answered with a blink, the sudden gear-shift polarizing his mind somewhat.
"Simply put I want you to come with me to the Elemental Nations, I can offer you knowledge, you already possess quite a bit of power. Perhaps sight, given time to study your biology, I just want to know if you're going to disturb my attempts, and if I have to put you in the ground or not." Menma tilted his head slightly, a haunting smile on his lips.
"What, not going to just eat him? What kind of beast are you? Passing up a free meal like this." His smile became tight as he glared into the back of his own head.
"I'll rip out your insides and use the blood to fuck your empty head if you don't silence yourself, Fox." Commanded Menma with a vicious snarl, Seath's conciousness trickled in.
"My my, what is this? Some creature inhabiting your body, Dark Lord? How curious."
"A simple gnat from my past, Seath. You needn't concern yourself with it." Menma explained breifly.
"What would the people do if they found out their venerated 'King of Gods' hosted a demon?" Menma wanted to roll his eyes, so he did. And once more Seath spoke.
"Truly? A demon? How did you come upon such a spell of binding, Dark Lord?" Seath was very interested now.
"He's a mere construct of energy, the energy native to my people, in a more primal state. He's as much a demon as these crystals are fragments of the skies." Seath looked a slight disappointed by this, so Menma baited the dragon, "But, I can answer the second question. The binding was done with a skill set referred to by my people as 'Fuinjutsu' the 'Art of Sealing'. It can pretty much do anything you can think of, binding giant fonts of energy being one of them." The grin returned full force.
Menma was almost completely certain that he could wrap Seath around his finger with a little knowledge.
More Time
Menma leant to the side to avoid the strike from a familiar Dragonslayer Spear, Ornstein followed up with a pommel strike, Menma hopped back a few feet before the Slayer could follow up anymore. A blast of black magicks was thrown towards the golden armoured Dragonslayer, Ornstein countered it by throwing lightning through the shaft of his spear, like striking a solid object the Lightning Spear burst upon impact with the orb of Dark, both dissipating on contact.
"So any particular reason you felt like throwing down today in particular, Orny?" Menma asked with a risen brown, knowing full well how much the man hated being called that.
"It is the duty of the Knight-Captain to be at a constant physical peak, and as there are no dragon's left to hunt, I must work my body in another way." The slayer leapt into the air, stabbing the air charging it with spiritually powered electricity, Lightning Spears began to fall down towards Menma like a golden rain of pain.
Menma lifted a hand and created a black wall of darkness, Ornstein returned to the ground and the second his toes touched the marble floors of the cathedral, leading with his spear slightly down Ornstein managed to pierce the barrier but only at that point, mostly due to how much force was focused on such a small area. The Dark Lord's wings shot out and he flew through the barrier head striking directly into the chest of the Golden Lion.
Ornstein was sent back a few feet before he had to leap back further to avoid the follow up summersault axe-kick of the Dark One, the Lion growled before thrusting a palm forward a simple 'Emit Force' shot forth, the white sheen of pressurised air struck the Lord only for him to shrug it off like it was naught but a draft.
Menma slammed his hands into the ground, fire licking at them, pillars of azure flame shot from the ground around Ornstein, the Lion hissed as one licked at his dominant arm, leaping into the air once more Ornstein turned mid flight and kicked off the ceiling, which in itself just shows one how much damned control he has, and two how high he can jump.
"Damn that was cool." Menma whispered, falling back into a black gateway and reappearing on the other side of the room, cracking his knuckles as Orny landed and turned quickly to face him. Spear at the ready.
Menma sighed, "Alright, we'll play this game." Muttered the Lord, producing Monolith, the reforged Demon Machete, and his Bloodshield. Slipping his red shield onto his left arm and one-handing his enormous sword the Lord rushed forward to meet the Dragonslayer.
"I swear, this a mix between boring an entertaining." Muttered Ciaran. Having been reduced to babysitter, along with Gough when he was able, for the past week as Gwyndolin wanted to watch the spars between the Lion and the Demon-thing.
She was lucky she could get away with smacktalking him in such a manner he really disliked it when people talked down to him, a bit too much pride, Ciaran thought.
"It's pleasant though." Whispered Gwyndolin, the personality-bleed of her alternate reality self was in full effect.
Flashback
"Gwynny-darling, c'mere." The pair were walking about the gardens on the lowest level of the great keep, Gwyndolin, sporting the usual white dress that seemed a size too big, managed to stumble her way towards the sitting Lord, parking her butt next to his and looking up at the amused visage of her newest and dearest friend. "I have a little present for you, but I can only give it to you if you really want it."
Gwyndolin looked at him, perplexed. "It's the soul of the Gwyndolin from my timeline, I won't go into the details as to why we ended up fighting but it happened. She and I had a little discussion earlier in the week and I thought it'd be a good idea for you, if you took her soul. She was a very lonely child. But a very powerful sorceress. So, would you like to look after her soul, and make new memories with me?"
Flashback End
She'd accepted and it was a very strange thing, at random times she'd be overcome with waves of nostalgia, or near cripplingly levels of sadness over the simplest things, such as seeing her beloved sister smile at her. But with persistence Gwyndolin fought down the urges of her older self and was able to take the power, the knowledge and the strength of self. What little confidence she had was bolstered, and the little fire that was her soul burned bright like a small sun.
Everyone noticed it, not many bothered to comment on it. As it was not there business, although the sight of the tiniest princess smiling brightly, and laughing without a care warmed many old hearts.
It was a good change, the Dark Lord had ushered many changes, not all received as well. The lowering of attention towards worship was slightly affronting, but in its place was more money invested in knowledge, children in the schools of Anor Londo were being taught to be more inquisitive and questioning of the world around them, science began to overshadow the meaningless worship of himself and his peers.
Commerce increased with the industrial usage of the forges, to churn out weapons and armour that would be sent around the world, the clothiers and tailors would spread their craft beyond the walls of Anor Londo, in doing so they become wealthy, they spend their new wealth, thus injecting a new mass of gold and flowing coin into the city.
Menma was proud of the city he'd reforged.
The future, looked bright. He'd hoped it would stay that way.
End of Chapter
And so the prodigal son returns, the end of the series approaches, shitful as it may have started hopefully I can take solace that it ends well.
Also, sidenote. For some reason reviews aren't showing up on the sight, only in email. So if I miss your review I apologize, I get a lot of emails.
Raxychaz!