Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein/Executioner Smough

Word Count: 2.916

(Author's note: I wanted to write this story for a while now, basically the backstory for how my Ornstein and Smough became a thing. I don't know how long it will be and it won't have an update schedule, I will just write on it whenever I feel like it.

It felt good to work on a shorter intro chapter again. I hope you enjoy.)

"Are you still staying here, Captain?"

Ornstein looked up from his post. He was faced with the last two silver knights that had still been stationed in the cathedral. It had been his most loyal and trustworthy subordinates and now...

"Amira... Terrick... you are going to leave too?", he asked. No, it wasn't really an ask, just a request for confirmation.

Amira and Terrick shared a look and then Amira let out a deep sigh.

"Captain, Anor Londo is done for. Look around you, there is nobody here anymore. All the gods left and all their subordinates soon followed. We stayed here for your sake, but we don't share your gift of immortality, Captain. We simply can't afford to spend the rest of our lives here."

Ornstein nodded along to her words. He knew that he could not force his silver knights to stay with him, though her words hurt. Not that they were leaving him, but that Anor Londo was done for.

"I can't and won't force you to stay.", Ornstein said, shifting his weight and grabbing his spear to balance himself with it. His legs felt weak. He hated when this happened. It often happened before he would transform into a shivering mess and he really didn't want his silver knights to have that as their last memory of him.

"However.", he continued, "Are you sure that you don't want to stay? There is still a chance that Anor Londo will recover the glory it once had. There is still a chance that everyone will return and we will prosper again."

This time it was Terrick who chimed in: "Captain... once our Lord Gwyn left to link the flame, it was the beginning of the end. Our princess held it together for a while until she too left and took half of our forces with her... and what is left? We can't expect any help from the other four lords, nobody even knows who the fourth lord is, Gravelord Nito apparently vanished after the war and the Witch of Izalith... well, we can ask the black knights about this story. Who else is left? Seath and he has stopped interacting with Anor Londo decades ago... and Gwyn's last child... let's just say, it is not very reassuring to take orders through a wall of fog and not even knowing who you serve."

Right, Gwyndolin had completely stopped showing themselves to the silver knights once Lord Gwyn had left. Ornstein was one of the only ones left who actually still actively interacted with them.

"...It will be lonely here without you.", Ornstein said, leaning against the wall, hoping that the shaking of his knees would stop.

"Why are you even staying here?", Amira asked, "What do you still gain from this place? I have the feeling you are staying out of obligation and nostalgia, Captain. You know you don't have to stay, you can find a new lord to serve, strong as you are."

Ornstein shook his head, propping himself up a little before leaning back against the wall, his legs didn't want to listen to him.

"This place is my home.", he said, "I can't leave it. Besides, I can't leave Gw-... the Dark Sun alone. If I am gone too, then they are all alone here and... I … can't leave them to such a cruel fate..."

Amira and Terrick shared another look.

"If you ever change your mind, Captain, then we would be honoured if you contact us. We will leave towards the east, it seems like the land there isn't as ravaged as here... Whatever you do next, Captain, good luck and... farewell..."

Ornstein had the feeling he could hear tears plinking down into Amira's helmet.

"Farewell... Captain...", Terrick joined in and then the three of them stood around for a minute or more until the two silver knights backed off, saluted Ornstein who reciprocated the gesture and then were off.

Ornstein waited until he couldn't hear their footsteps anymore. Then he tried to lift his foot into the air to walk towards his room, but his legs were still feeling like jelly. He would not be able to walk like this, but at the same time, it didn't matter anymore.

Nobody was around anymore to see him, so he sank to the ground and started shaking, being left alone with his thoughts...

Leaving... it was not that he never had thought about it, but... where should he go? There was someone that he would like to see, but... Ornstein had denied his request to go with him centuries ago... surely Ornstein was the last person that he would like to see...

Also, this place was truly his home. Ornstein had grown up as an orphan, thrown away by his parents. He never knew about his origins or where he came from and the orphanage never felt like a home as well...

It had been the cathedral and Anor Londo that had started to feel like home. His friends had been there. Gough, Artorias and Ciaran... Gwyndolin and... him... The silver knights...

Of course not everything had been awesome, there was also this awful executioner who always wanted the fifth position of the Knights of Gwyn, but Ornstein always had to decline him and his disgusting practice of eating people... he simply was not honourable enough.

Yes, this place was his home. It was where his friends and his family were.

...None of them were here anymore.

...Most of them weren't alive anymore...

Artorias had been the first to fall. He had been sent on a mission to Oolacile and there he fell to the beast of the Abyss... at least that was the official version. Ornstein knew the truth. The truth was that Artorias had been corrupted by the Abyss and had been put out of his misery by a lowly undead, who then was humble enough to not be mentioned in the records at all and give all the credit to Artorias.

Artorias' death had brought Ornstein into a deep spiral... thinking about it, it was during that time that Ornstein had shaken like that very frequently, he had gotten downright sick and he had ignored his bad shape... until he keeled over...

Ciaran had been next. Her grief ran even deeper than Ornstein's. She had vowed to protect Artorias' grave together with his pet wolf, Sif. The years passed and Sif grew and Ciaran talked less and less when Ornstein visited her until one day he found her with her throat sliced open. He hadn't even buried her. She died where she wanted to be and it would have been an insult to remove her from the position she used to watch over Artorias' grave.

Gough had been last... a very cruel death had awaited him indeed. The tower that Gough had spent his days on had crumbled and once Ornstein came, all he could see was the lifeless hand of the giant. Ornstein blamed himself for days for Gough's death and he especially feared that Gough hadn't been dead right away and instead slowly starved to death buried under the rubble. If only he would have checked up on Gough sooner...

And him... his Master... they had something special, they were supposed to stay together forever until the Master threw all of Ornstein's trust away and betrayed Anor Londo. He tried to take Ornstein with him, only for Ornstein to refuse to come with him, too hurt by his treason, too attached to Anor Londo.

That night had been the first night Ornstein had broken down like this...

When had he started to cry? Ornstein lifted the visor of his helmet and wiped his tears away. He had to stay strong, for Anor Londo and for Gwyndolin. Gwyndolin was still there and Gwyndolin worked on a way to get Anor Londo back to its proper glory. However, they were inexperienced and weak for a god, so Ornstein wondered if he had only decided to spend the rest of eternity in a dying city that would never prosper again...

He still had to hold onto this hope however. If Anor Londo would fall, if he, the last symbol of the city, would leave, for what would he have fought? For what would he have slain all these dragons? There simply had to be a solution, there just had to be.

Ornstein knew though that he was not the one to find it. He was excellent at giving commands on the battlefield, but he had never been good when it came to problem solutions or the politics... that never had been his forte...

He simply had to trust Gwyndolin.

It was all he had left.

He didn't know how long he stayed on the ground, but eventually, his tears dried and his shaking stopped. It always did. As Ornstein went to move, he got a glimpse outside and saw that the moon had risen. Always the full moon, there hadn't been another moon since... for a long time now.

It would be time for dinner, but Ornstein felt no hunger. He actually felt a deep need to go to bed and just sleep. With no one to say goodnight to anymore, Ornstein moved to his room and soon he was in bed, closing his eyes, falling into a deep dreamless slumber almost immediately.

hr/hr

When Ornstein awoke the next morning he had absolutely no desire to leave the bed.

He wasn't even tired anymore. He must have gotten plenty of sleep. Anor Londo's eternal twilight was shining into his room and normally he would get up and start his day.

However, he felt no motivation to actually move. He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, one hand removing some of his curls from his face. There actually was no reason for him to get up. Amira and Terrick were gone, there wasn't a scheduled meeting with Gwyndolin and it wasn't like anyone else was still living in this town... besides the giant blacksmith, but he didn't count, he couldn't really move. He also seemed content where he was, always repairing Ornstein's weapon and armour, though never saying a word about it. Ornstein liked that about the giant blacksmith, he was bad with small talk.

So it would not be a bad thing if Ornstein just... stayed into bed. He could stay in bed for the whole day and just stare at the ceiling. What should have sounded incredibly boring was kind of alluring to Ornstein at this exact moment. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to think, he just wanted to lay there and stare at the ceiling for hours upon hours.

Unfortunately, his body had other plans, or more specifically, his bladder was not fine with laying in bed for hours upon hours. Ornstein tried to ignore it for a while but eventually had to give up. He grabbed a hairband from his nightstand and tied his hair into a ponytail, but didn't bother to get dressed. All he did was put on some slippers to protect his feet during the trip to the privy.

After Ornstein was done and he washed his hands at the cathedral fountain, he contemplated what to do now. Just going back to bed and continuing staring at the ceiling felt like a fantastic idea, so Ornstein decided to do exactly that.

On his way back to his room he passed the kitchen and suddenly his stomach let out a loud growl. Shocked, Ornstein laid a hand on it, face flushing red, that was embarrassing, someone could have heard that, oh, he was actually all alone...

It didn't surprise him that he was hungry. He had skipped dinner yesterday after all. However... Ornstein never had needed to cook for himself. The last few years Terrick and Amira normally had taken over the kitchen duty and they always had prepared a serving for Ornstein too. Ornstein knew that he wasn't a good chef... in fact, the few times he tried, his dishes were apparently so horrifying that everyone had to run away screaming. Not even Artorias, the best chef among the Knights of Gwyn, had managed to teach Ornstein how to cook.

Ornstein had to cook now though... there was no one else here to cook for him. There certainly was something that even he could manage... like frying some eggs. That was easy, he just had to crack some eggs into a pan and season it... there was no way he could mess this up.

Twenty minutes later Ornstein sat in front of his "dish". What should have been easy turned out to be a nightmare. The eggs had always shattered in his hands, the egg had been stuck to the bottom of the pan and Ornstein had no clue which seasoning to use and what all the little bottles actually contained.

The dish he was eating right now barely deserved the title of fried eggs. It barely deserved to be called a dish. The egg was burned, parts of the shell were still stuck in it and it tasted far too sweet, wasn't egg supposed to be salty? Did he confuse salt and sugar?

Regardless, Ornstein was too hungry and so he forced the egg down, as disgusting as it tasted, drinking massive amounts of water to get rid of the aftertaste and then he spent far too much time trying to get the pan clean.

He probably should learn to cook or his stomach would hate him before even a week passed since he was on his own. Alternatively, he probably could just eat bread... there always was bread around in the pantry (where did it actually come from? Ornstein had no idea.), though only eating bread would probably get stale quickly.

Well, he probably would figure out how to cook eventually, he only had never learned it because there had been no need. There were countless books in the cathedral, a few of them surely would have some recipes that he could try out...

After this experience, Ornstein didn't feel like laying back in bed anymore, mostly because his stomach was revolting against him and he felt like he wanted to move around to calm it down. However, now that he had been on his feet for an hour or two, he started to feel incredibly naked only wearing his nightshirt.

Ornstein always preferred to wear his armour if he wasn't in his own private room. It had made him feel safe, not only because of the protection it offered against physical harm, but it also felt like a shell he could put on and present as someone that was able to interact with people. Especially masking his face behind the intricate visor had helped a lot. He only had started to take off his helmet or even his whole armour around his most trusted friends and otherwise he always would have worn it.

While nobody was here anymore to see him, his body longed for the familiar feeling of the golden weight and so Ornstein felt himself walk towards his room, spending quite a bit polishing his armour before donning it, taking his spear and then looking into the mirror.

That was him. That was Dragon Slayer Ornstein, hero of the dragon war, hero of Anor Londo. Regardless of what would happen, he always would be the dragon slayer, it was the one thing he could count on.

Now that he was in armour, he guessed he could go onto his usual patrol. Of course nobody was there anymore, but he had to do something, anything in this empty cathedral. It hadn't even been one day and he already felt his mind slip.

So Ornstein started to walk, visiting all the different rooms, but he couldn't bring himself to say a single word, he couldn't bring himself to give orders to a silver knight that should be there but wasn't. When he passed the giant blacksmith, Ornstein just gave him the usual nod and then left, accompanied by the tiny plinking sounds of his hammer.

Eventually Ornstein came along the dungeons. He wrinkled his nose, he never had liked going down there. It was where the executioner, Smough, usually resided and each time they met, it would end into a verbal fight.

Ornstein shrugged, the cathedral was empty now. The executioner surely had already left, why should he stay if there were no prisoners anymore?

Ornstein walked down the steps, telling himself that the awful memories he had with the executioner were in the past and there was no reason for him to get upset about this place anymore, when he stopped.

There was light down there. There shouldn't be light. Nobody should have been able to light the torches in years and he knew for a fact that Amira and Terrick never went down into the dungeons.

Maybe it had been Gwyndolin's doing? Though they usually didn't have a reason to even come into the cathedral anymore...

Curious and with an uneasy feeling Ornstein approached the light only to almost drop his spear when he realized that he in fact was not the last person left in the cathedral.

"Dragon Slayer?!", the executioner said, spat almost and Ornstein was simply left standing there without no words.

Of all the people still left in the cathedral, why did it have to be Smough?!

(Author's note: I am not sure what the rating should be yet, which means I am unsure if I add smut or not, so I will leave the age rating as not rated for now until I figure out where to go with this fic. Treat it at least as a mature fic however, because this is still Dark Souls and Dark Souls has a lot of mature themes.

Like I said, I don't know how long this will be or when I will update it, I just wanted to get this chapter out and see where it takes me. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed and if I would appreciate a review or some favs.)