#she gets to be comrade of THE knight artorias?

[prismaiden]

You have to acknowledge evil, or you give it too much power over you.

Once again, their king would find satisfaction. The tides of war have shifted, and for the first time in history, the dragons find themselves retreating. Their dominion over the lands and skies is swiftly drawing to a close; soon, they will be but a memory, and tranquility will reign. No longer will the people tremble as dragons scorch their fields and plunder their riches, nor will they stand helpless as these beasts snatch away their young. This era of terror will conclude with the fall of the last dragon to their blade.

He moved toward her, youthful yet seasoned. Bursting with vitality and possessing an innate talent that could not be learned. It was a gift one either had or lacked. She was a formidable ally, destined to stand by his side and bolster his strength in the heat of battle—a true knight in every sense. He believed that when the moment arrived, their king would recognize her worth as he did and reward her richly for her countless contributions.

“You performed admirably…” Knight Artorias murmured softly. 

The massive sword arced high before descending with a swift, decisive motion, severing the head of the beast, which would now rest in its final place. He had little patience for trophies or trinkets. A dragon was a creature devoid of respect, honor, or any semblance of a code. It had earned this grim fate as he retracted his sword, wielding it with such effortless grace that it seemed no more formidable than a simple dagger, an extension of his very being. He glanced down at her face, noting the crack in her helm, the delicate curve of her cheek, and the streak of crimson marring its surface. “Wear it with pride.” As he exhaled, turning his gaze away, the ground trembled beneath him, sending all living things scurrying in fear.

“They are the dying embers of this realm, yet they will not disperse into the winds so easily. Let us offer them our aid; their time has come to an end.”

Such praise was a rare, radiant gift – to be recognised by one as revered and regaled as Lord Artorias was to be touched by sunlight itself.  Pride unfurled in Anri’s chest, taking her rapid-fire heart in its warm, golden fist.  Yet, as swiftly as the feeling ignited, it flickered, dimming as her gaze fell upon the lifeless dragon’s eyes.  Already drying, already clouding.  Once thought eternal, it now cooled before them, its ancient majesty diminished.

Eradication was necessary, she reminded herself.  Each slayed beast brought them closer to peace – to a world where good, honest folk need not live in the shadow of membranous wings, nor fear the white-hot plumes of their unholy fire.  Anri trusted in the God of Sunlight, in his conquest.  Above all, she trusted in Artorias.

The Abysswalker warred as though guided by a divine hand, each step deliberate, conducted with almost impossible poise and purpose.  In battle, he proved an instrument of death, burning as a star in the blackest night.  No ash, no blood, no filth could dim his brilliance.  Towering over plains of ruin, his greatsword dripping viscera, his presence promised deliverance from darkness.

Yet, beneath his ferocity, there was a quiet gentleness.  Anri had glimpsed it in the way his gaze softened when tending to the injured or the grieving, in the way he protected his comrades – their king – with absolute devotion.  Artorias embodied balance, standing between destruction and hope, between death and the promise of life. 

What did he see in her?  What strength, what weakness?  

Blood from the dragon’s severed head continued to flow in thick, sluggish rivers, but she no longer noticed the copper-tang.  It was simply another moment in a war that had stretched far too long.  Aching fingers found the battered edge of her cracked helm and she pulled it free, glad to be rid of its weight.  

“An age of peace approaches,” Anri murmured, her words hopeful, as though uttering them aloud might weave possibility into reality. A touch of wonder kindled in her as she dared to imagine a future where the skies had been conquered, where the scaled backs of the dragons had been broken. 

Hand tightening around the handle of her sword, she followed in Artorias’ wake, his footfall setting the earth to tremble beneath her boots, stirring the divine ichor within her veins.  While the dying embers of the draconic realm hissed softly at their feet, Anri prayed silently. For victory, for the strength to see it through, for a world that deserved a peace paid for in blood.

[redchu12]

Merlin has a lot of free time now that he is at Chaldea. You would think he would use this time to be social and see his old comrades. He does not.

Instead Merlin decides to get back into some old hobbies. (or maybe learn some new ones)

He starts by taking over the gardens at Chaldea. They have never flushed like they do now with Merlin taking care of them. The chefs are also appreciative of all of the fresh vegetables and fruits that they now have access to.

Merlin practices his violin skills and gets them back to snuff. He also learns guitar because he know how to use one stringed instrument, why not another right?

The knights of Camelot and other servants start to suspect that Merlin is avoiding them.

Merlin is kinda avoiding them, but he also gets really invested into writing music and playing it, and working on his garden.

He also plays games and streams too. Merlin uses some type of magic so that people in the past who aren't dead can see his streams and videos too.

When merlin is really bored he will sketch people, plants, and animals too.

Merlin's instruments both have carved flowers on them. It was a nice project for him and he really liked how it ended up.

Merlins favorite song on violin is Fairytale by Alexander Rybak. Maybe he makes a version that uses they instead of she so he can use it as a song for the knights.

His favorite guitar song's are Overwhelmed by Royal and the Serpents, and Sorry by Halsey. They help explain his own feelings for life the knights.

Merlin also learns how to play the flute when he needs a break from strung instruments.

Maybe Merlin thinks that the knights of the round hate him, but they slowly start to win him over?

Mordred begs for guitar lessons so that she can impress her friends with it. (also so she can spend time with her brother/uncle)

Listening to violen helps Lancelot calm his nerves and temper the rage that he feels at times.

Artoria will sit next to Merlin as he practices music (usually his flute, but any instrument works for her) and falls asleep to it. She usually wakes up to either his cloak laying on her, or Merlin himself sleeping with his head on her head and her head on his shoulder. Artoria always enjoys those naps the best. (They are best friends you honor)

Bedivere loves to help in the garden and is always asking Merlin to make him some new flowers to see.

Gawain and Tristan always seem to find Merlin when he is drawing and always ask to join him. They start out pretty bad at drawing, but over time and with merlins help the two start to become better artists.

Maybe Merlin joins a band with other servants? hmmm.

So by starting new hobbies Merlin get his family back, and some new helpful coping mechanisms.

[mrslittletall]

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 17) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dark Sun Gwyndolin, Silver Knights Word Count: 2.841 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/42025085 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/182760646054/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-16

Summary: Back in Anor Londo, Ornstein needs to get an overview.

(Author's note: Difficult chapter was difficult. Hope you like. I have to admit, this is the part of the story that hasn't sit in my head for several months now, so I have to make up stuff while I write it. Hope it is enjoyable ^^)

When Ornstein awoke, the morning sun already shone through his window. He released his comfort pillow, stretched and made his way out of bed, relieved that no nightmare had come to him this time. He made himself ready for the day, sure that a long one was in front of him, when his stomach loudly reminded him that it demanded some food.

“Oh right, I better get some breakfast.”, Ornstein murmured to himself, wondering if he could meet up with Ciaran for it, when he remembered. Oh, right, she hadn't come back with him. With a deep sigh, Ornstein finished dressing with putting on his helmet and made his way to the mess hall.

When Ornstein sat down at the table of the four knights, he felt several eyes stare into his direction. He knew the silver knights were dying for some answers, in fact, he could hear them whispering with each other. Another part of him however felt, they were staring because he was sitting alone at that table now. Granted, he had sat alone at this table for a while now, but back then everyone had assumed that Artorias and Ciaran would have come back. And then their captain had vanished too for a few days, leaving them completely in the dark. Still, he started to feel uncomfortable under their stares and whispering, it felt weird enough for him already to have returned alone, having to sit on the special table for the knights of Gwyn on his own. He tried to concentrate on his food instead, but gobbled it down too quickly in an attempt to escape this onerous atmosphere, feeling his stomach slightly cramp in protest.

The next step was the roll call for the silver knights. When Ornstein arrived, most of them had already gathered, the clanking of armour and weapons as well as their whisperings were filling the room. Ornstein walked up to his usual position, turned around and raised his voice.

“Silver knights, assemble!”, he shouted, waiting a bit for them to turn their attention to him and for the late-comers to take in their places. As he was sure that each and every silver knight was listening, he started to talk:

“It surely has already been brought to your attention, that I was called to Oolacile by Ciaran because of a grave problem that happened. And hereby I have to inform you, that sadly Artorias has fallen in battle.”

Ornstein stopped, giving the silver knights some time to process this information. He heard them gasp, whispering with each other, he had the impression he could hear some of them sobbing.

After a short while, one of the silver knights raised their voice: “Captain, how did it happen?” Ornstein could hear affirmative mumbling from some of the others.

“So, while Artorias was able to slay the beast that tormented Oolacile and save the town out of the clutches of the abyss, sadly, he also lost his life, succumbing to his injuries shortly after he succeeded his mission.”

Ornstein felt a pang in his stomach, the cramps in it feeling a bit worse. He knew he couldn't tell his silver knights the truth, they needed to look up to Artorias as a hero, not a failure. He could hear the silver knights hastily discussing with each other.

“Silence.”, Ornstein shouted, slightly annoyed and the silver knights stopped their talking at once, a bunch of winged helmets turned into his direction.

“The reason for my absence this past days has been, that I needed to attend the burial ceremony. Artorias has been gifted a grave by Oolacile and now rests in the royal garden. We have to make sure that he can rest in piece and I would like for you all to partake in a moment of silence, praying for his soul.”

Ornstein took in the prayer stance and watched from the corner of his visor that the silver knights were doing the same. A short while later, a collective “May the flames guide this soul.” sounded and the silver knights once again stared at Ornstein.

“So, because of my absence I need an overview about what happened.”, Ornstein continued. “I have put Amira and Terrick in charge, so I expect you two to give me your report before you start your duties. For the rest of you, your new orders will be given out at the evening call. You are dismissed.”

The two silver knights Ornstein had mentioned parted from the group and waited for the other silver knights to spread out. As soon as he had dismissed them, their whispering and murmuring to each other resumed. Ornstein couldn't blame them for it, it had been a lot to take in. Ornstein strolled into the direction of Amira and Terrick.

“Let's go to the conference room.”, he said to them and led the way.

“Captain.”, Amira suddenly said, “This must have been a harsh shock for you. We understand if you need some time to work through this.”

Ornstein stopped dead in his tracks, making the two almost bump into him. “I did had enough time for it already, it is time to properly get back to my duties.”, he said, but the cramps in his stomach said otherwise.

“We perfectly know how close you and Artorias were, captain.”, Terrick added. “We are just worried, that is all.”

“I am fine.”, Ornstein said, knowing what a blatant lie this was, but he banned it into the back of his head and opened the door to the conference room, taking his usual seat, while the two silver knight just stood there, looking around, unsure of what to do.

“Please, sit down.”, Ornstein said and gestured to the stools. Amira and Terrick reluctantly came forward and sat down each, her in the place of Ciaran and him in the place of Artorias. Another pang crawled into Ornstein's stomach and he started to regret that he had breakfast.

“So, I bumped into Herman yesterday and he already told me that there is quite some trouble.”, Ornstein started. “Please give me your reports.”

“Of course, captain.”, Amira said and took a bunch of papers out of her armour, Ornstein briefly wondered if she had been carrying them around this whole time, “The most trouble we have lately are the increased numbers of Undead in the human population. The curse of the dark sign has gotten more and more common, it seems. Only a small part of the undead population admit it and are going to the asylum on their own free will. The larger part hides it, often protected by their relatives and then cause havoc when they go hollow, making it very troublesome to ship them off to the asylum.”

“This is indeed a huge problem, if people don't follow the rules.”, Ornstein said. “Form teams to hunt down any hollow you can find. And I shall speak to Gwyndolin about it, so that we can ensure rules, that the human population gets checked for the dark sign.”

He sighed, continuing: “The humans probably won't like this, but we can't keep hollows letting damage our reputation and our citizens. What happened with the people who were protecting the cursed ones?”

“They faced trial and got found to be guilty and shall be executed to death. They are in the dungeons now, the executioner Smough is ready to do his job, but a authoritarian figure was missing for it, cause our Lord Gwyndolin refused to attend them. So it would be good if you could talk to the executioner as soon as possible, the dungeon has gotten quite full lately.”

Ornstein sighed again, it wasn't a secret that he and the executioner didn't like each other a lot. And how would he react now, that Ornstein came back alone, after been denied the ranks of the four knights of Gwyn for so long? Ornstein knew he was strong enough and he must possess a special soul, cause the executioner was living as long as Ornstein was now. Still, with his cannibalistic behaviour, Ornstein just couldn't let him join the ranks of the four knights. Even though they were down to only him now.

“At least that means Smough won't go hungry.”, Ornstein said with a grim face, noticing the two silver knights staring at each other for a second. “I have been noted that demon's have wandered into the Burg from Lost Izalith. What are the black knights doing?”

Terrick and Amira share another look and this time Terrick began to speak: “Like you know, most of the remaining black knights have taken it to themselves to fight the demon threat directly in Izalith. However, lately we didn't had any reports from them, so we can only assume the worst... The remaining black knights have gone searching for their missing comrades, but none of them has returned yet. Thus is why the demon threat in the Burg hasn't been taken care off yet.”

“This is really troublesome.”, Ornstein murmured. “Demon's may not be very intelligent, but they are fearsome foes. I should take care of this one personally. And if there hasn't been a report in a week, we have to make sure to find out what happened to the remaining black knights.”

“So you are going to fight the demon on your own, captain? I will give you the exact location of its sighting later then.”, Terrick said.

“Yes, I am used to fight huge foes anyway, it is easier going on my own than lead a troop of silver knights against it.”, Ornstein said. “Anything else to report?”

“Yes, we have trouble with the dark wraithes in New Londo, terrorizing the citizens there.”, Amira took up the word again. “We were hoping for Sir Artorias to take care off this problem once he returned, but...”, she trailed off.

Ornstein felt his stomach cramp up once again and now a bout of nausea washed over him too. It had only been a few days and this much trouble had occurred. At least he couldn't complain that it would get boring for him.

“Normally Artorias would take care of this threat, you are right.”, he murmured more to himself before raising his voice. “We need some scouting work in New Londo, find out where and when the dark wraithes normally strike. Make sure to get relief supplies to New Londo and every citizen who searches shelter shall be welcome here, but search them for the dark sign first.”, Ornstein ordered. “Oh, I just remembered, we need relief supplies for Oolacile too. Can you make sure that some are getting send there?”

“Noted, captain. We shall make sure to fill out your orders.”, Amira said. “That should have been all. Apart of the paperwork of course. Shall I get it to your room?”

“Yes, please.”, Ornstein nodded, internally groaning at the paperwork. Usually Artorias would help him out with it, cause of his handwriting. But Artorias wasn't there anymore... “And... find the silver knight with the nicest handwriting and give me their name.”, he added.

“As you wish.”, Amira and Terrick both stood up and bowed to him. “Can we go back to our duties now?”

“Yes, you are dismissed.”, Ornstein said absentminded while watching the two silver knights leaving a room. He had a lot on his mind right now. He probably should go talk to Gwyndolin first, they surely were worried about him and he should inform them about the talk he had with his silver knights. Ornstein left the room, but was stopped on his way when he he felt a presence in the hallway.

“No need to hide yourself, come out.”, he shouted and the lord's blade revealed herself.

“Sir Ornstein, you surely happen to know about Lady Ciaran's whereabouts.”, she said.

Ornstein swallowed. A thing he nearly forgot. He had to tell the lord's blades the truth about Ciaran's decision. He braced himself when he opened his mouth: “Ciaran told me that she is not coming back. The lord's blade are hereby disbanded. You are all free to go where you want.”

The woman just stared at him, he could feel it even through her mask, the sense of disbelief, but she recovered quickly: “If that is the wish of our Lady Ciaran, then I will tell the other lord's blades. Farewell, dragon slayer.”

“Maybe I can ask Gwyndolin if you can serve as their dark moon blades.”, Ornstein said but the lord's blade had already been gone. Ornstein's stomach ache tightened and his nausea intensified in a way that he had to stop and take a few deep breathes.

“Keep it together.”, he murmured to himself, slowly trotting to the Dark Moon Tomb where he was let in by Gwyndolin, who awaited him at the end of the hallway sitting in a chair.

“Ornstein, since when are you back? You should have send a message.”, they said.

“...Sorry, I... forgot.”, Ornstein averted his gaze and stared at the floor, trying to concentrate on a pattern in it. Why hadn't he thought about sending a bird to inform Gwyndolin about everything? He blamed the whole burial ceremony stress for it.

“How was the burial ceremony?” Gwyndolin raised their catalyst and conjured a second chair next to them, gesturing at Ornstein to sit down on it, which he did.

“Everything was going exactly as planned. It was a wonderful ceremony and Artorias has gotten a wonderful grave. Princess Dusk and I have hold a speech for him both. His soul surely is on the way to Nito now. Sif stayed at his grave. And so... did Ciaran.”

Even though Gwyndolin's eyes were covered by a mask, Ornstein could see their surprise. He knew them long enough now. It was the way they shifted, the tiny gasp he heard and the way their snakes withdrew.

“I want to say that I am not surprised.”, they started. “But that would be a lie.”

“I know.”, Ornstein said. “I was convinced she would return with me to the cathedral.”

“What about the lord's blades?”

“She said to me to disband them. Before I came here I met one of them and delivered her message. I wanted to ask if they would be able to serve as your dark moon blades, of course only if they want to.”

Gwyndolin seemed to consider it. “Yes, they could serve as my dark moon blades. After all, since my father and my sister left, there haven't been many political enemies we had to take care off. And for every sinner I have the dark moon blades ready. I guess Anor Londo doesn't has a need for assassin's anymore. I will submit my offer to them.”

Both of them fell into silence after this. Both of them knew that Anor Londo wasn't anymore what it once had been. That since Lord Gwyn left, it had lost a lot of its glory. Gwyndolin was doing their best, Ornstein knew it, but he also knew, that there was another reason for Ciaran not coming back. She had given up on Anor Londo, while he still hold onto some faint hope.

“So, any reports?”, Gwyndolin asked.

“Yes.”, Ornstein said. “I have ordered the silver knights to send relief supplies to Oolacile and New Londo, apparently the latter is under attack from the dark wraiths. I have also told that we would take in any refugees, but...”, Ornstein swallowed, “with the curse of the dark sign and the trouble it brought, we can't let the human population go unsupervised anymore. We have to check every human who comes in for the dark sign.”

“Once Anor Londo was home to many deities and divines, but a lot of them left sadly, so that we have to rely on the human population to fill out the gaps... with the curse we surely can't let them go unsupervised anymore.”, Gwyndolin said. “But which forces should we use to control the borders? The silver knights are struggling with their tasks, a lot of them left with my sister. Maybe you should think about recruiting some more?”

“If anyone still wants to be a silver knight. I will make sure to get some recruit posters plastered over town.”, Ornstein sighed. “Well, I better go now, there have been demon sightings in the burg and I wanted to take care of it personally.” Ornstein stood up from the chair which promptly vanished. “I will come back to visit once I have time.”

As Ornstein was on his way out of the tomb, he heard Gwyndolin's voice behind him: “Ornstein, are you alright?”

He turned around, looked at them, his stomach cramping with pain, forced a smile, forgetting that he was wearing his helmet and just said: “Don't worry, I am fine.” (Author's note: “Stomach aches? Nausea? Nightmares? I don't know what you are talking about, I am completely fine.” - Dragon Slayer Ornstein) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/183025659429/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-18

[angry-goat]

1-80 for whatever OC you want, go wild buddy i can't wait to read! 👀❤️

You saved me from boredom! Here’s my ver of Ornstein:

What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? - Orn(y), The Lion/Lion Knight (1st one is what Ciaran & Artorias call him for short, 2nd one is made up by Artorias & last 2 are the most common strangers call him.)

What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? - Yellow/gold, red (“Ariel red”), white.

How tall is your OC? - 9'

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC? - I’d say the length of his hair. In a ponytail it's halfway down his back. Loose it is down to his ankles.

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night? - He's normally wearing his signature armor. For special nights (any day/night he’s not working) he wears a black shirt with rolled up sleeves and tight black pants.

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances? - Grumpy? Gruff?? Tired???

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar? - Has a small flat mole under his right eye and small scar on the left of his forehead above his eyebrow (hard to see in my drawings but it’s there.)

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like? - I like to think of Bambi’s father from the 2nd movie but a tad less low (example at the end!)

What does your OC’s bedroom look like? His/her living area? - Ornstein (and Artorias’) living quarters have a bedroom which is a part of the “living room”. In separate rooms to the right there is a big bathroom, on the left a small kitchen. The main room is mainly dark golds and crimson while the bathroom and kitchen are white and gold.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer? - Lube...? Anything really special to him is either worn by him or hung up somewhere.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother? - He left her around his teenage years to continue his training as a knight of Gwyn but his relationship with her was good. Every year on her birthday he silently prays that she is alive and well.

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father? - His father died when he was around 2-3 so he doesn't remember him. He’s heard from his mother that he was a big and scary looking but a kind and gentle man. Had a pretty good sense of humor too.

How many siblings does your OC have and what is his/her relationship with them? - Had a sister 1 year younger than him. Around age 4 she went collecting herbs for their mother but got hungry along the way and mistook a poisonous plant for a safe one. Died later that night. Younger brother (around age 9) wished to hunt a manticore with Orn but Ornstein only got annoyed by the suggestion and kept training with his dummy. A hunter from the village returned from a hunting trip later to inform Orn’s mother that his brother was found dead near a manticore liar. He barley remembers his sister. Blames himself for his brother’s death.

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life? - Lord Gwyn for a short time.

What was your OC’s childhood like? - Lived in a small village. Spent most of his younger years learning different herbs and medicine from his momma. When he got old enough (13) he spent the day learning to fight and hunt for food.

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how did that impact him/her? - Strongest childhood memories are his mother singing a lullaby to help him sleep, learning of his brother’s death, and silver knights visiting his village to look for possible future knights to train.

What is your OC’s imagination like? - Does Not have a huge imagination. His mind is filled with work, possible outcomes of problems and wishing to just relax with his husband. If not any of those than it's memories of wars with dragons and the occasional memory of NK and him hanging together. They had a friend/brotherly relationship.

How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was his/her favorite? - Moved around a few times as a child when monsters proved too great a threat. Did not have a favorite location. They were all very similar.

What does your OC think of children either in general or about having them? - Does not really have an opinion on them at first. He gets easily annoyed so he is never around them (+ his work doesn't involve them.) In the kids AU he wished to create children with Artorias and they ended up making 2.

What kind of mother/father would your OC be? - Sadly not a good one. He thought he was ready but ultimately wasn't. He ends up treating his kids more like his soldiers as he is so used to being the captain and giving orders. He was also never home to connect with them.

Who are your OC’s closest relatives? - Mother.

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)? - He considers Gough to be his closest friend. They both just enjoy being in each other's company. No talking necessary.

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with? - The other 3 knights of Gwyn. Gough, Ciaran, and last but not least his partner Artorias.

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates? - He doesn't really hate anyone specific but for a while he was not too fond of NK for betraying his father and siding with the dragons. As you'd expect. Sometimes he dislikes Lord Gwyn for sending Artorias on such dangerous missions by himself.

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it? - Artorias.

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together? - They balance each other out I guess. If “opposites attract” is true then they are living proof. Ornstein taught Artorias what real love was and how to trust. Artorias was the first person he ever had feelings for and he also learned how to just have fun and relax while being around him.

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate? - The first thing that caught his attention besides Artorias’ looks were his unique fighting skills.

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet? - Artorias appeared one day as a stranger to Anor Londo and sought out Lord Gwyn. He introduced himself and told of his strengths. Gwyn agreed to introduce him to The Captain, Ornstein, to see if he was capable of being a good, trustworthy knight.

What is your OC’s level of education? - Learned how to differentiate herbs and medicine at a young age. As a teen and onward he got most of his knowledge from personal experience and reading.

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they? - None.

What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student was s/he? - He believes knowledge is good but doesn't really trust schools. If you were his child you would be homeschooled and be reading large texts all day :)

What subjects did your OC excel at? - Fighting and commanding others!

What subjects interested your OC? - He enjoys reading and sometimes writing short stories.

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession? - Being a knight of Gwyn - Knight commander.

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieving his/her current profession? - Gwyn saw lots of potential in young Ornstein and so he got training almost immediately.

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? - Is honored of his position but sometimes wishes he could just quit and rest.

What is your OC’s biggest dream? - Already came true. He wished to impress Gwyn enough to be the knight captain (check!) and later wished to soulbond with Artorias (double check!)

How does your OC react to and handle stress? - Likes to be alone with his thoughts. Gets easily annoyed and grumpy (more so than usual). Is prone to yell more often at times but usually reminds himself a good commander does not let their emotions get the better of them.

How does your OC handle anger? - You’ll hear a lot of lighting and shouting in the training grounds aka he is breaking every single training dummy. If not all this then you’re being yelled at by him cause you did something wrong or are trying his patience.

How does your OC handle grief? - Same as above except he'll eventually tire himself out, curl up and cry on the ground. Would also probably destroy things of no importance to him in his quarters. The only time he’d feel this much grief was if his mate or child was to die. Normally if he is grieving he is very quiet. If he loses a comrade in battle he’ll spend a couple minutes praying for them at night and give them a moment of silence.

What is your OC’s greatest fear? - Losing Artorias and disappointing the city of Anor Londo.

What makes your OC happy? - Spending time with Artorias.

What kind of sense of humor does your OC have? - Dry.

What are some things that greatly upset your OC? - Disrespect. Peasants, knights, etc should stay in their place.

What are some things that annoy your OC? - Artorias. Sif.

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has? - Not choosing to go after his brother.

How easily does your OC forgive? - Not easily. Is very forgiving when it comes to Artorias tho.

What are some of your OC’s vices? - None. In more modern times it would be smoking.

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it? - War and betrayal.

What secrets does your OC have? - None.

What are some of your OC’s morals? - Respect your elders.

What are some of your OC’s motivations? - Keeping Anor Londo safe and not disappointing his Lord. Seeing Artorias safe and sound.

What is the health of your OC? - He’s in good health. If he were a regular human some of his hair would have probably fallen out from stress tho.

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart? - Both. Tries as hard as he can not to think with his emotions.

What are your OC’s thoughts on death? - Doesn't really have a thought on it. He’s use to death.

What are some of your OC’s strengths? - Patience and tolerance for bullshit (sometimes.)

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses? - Putting his job before himself or family.

How does your OC take criticism? - Well, unless he feels that person is unworthy and/or doesn't know what they’re talking about.

What does your OC think of him/herself? - Thinks he must be at least a little good looking judging by the way Artorias looks at him. Is guessing by others reactions that he must come off a bit scary. Good.

If your OC could change one thing about him/herself, what would it be? - He doesn't know. In kids AU he wishes he were a better father.

What is the general impression your OC gives other people? - Grumpy old man.

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people? - Ornstein is like a brick wall.

How does your OC display love? - Touch. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, sex positions that will squish Artorias.

What are some habits your OC has picked up? - Tends to forget to eat.

What is your OC’s favorite drink? - Herbal tea. Reminds him of his mother plus it helps him relax.

What is your OC’s favorite food? - Medium rare steak.

What is your OC’s favorite sweet? - Dark chocolate cake.

What is your OC’s favorite season? - Summer.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather? - Sunny. He becomes Scrooge, in the cold.

What is your OC’s favorite book? - History and fiction books.

What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show? - None. No movies where he is! In modern times he’d just sleep through movies anyway.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of music (and song if there is one)? - Folk music? Arabic sounding music?? He mostly enjoys silence. More modern times he’d like some classical.

What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment? - Sparring.

What is your OC’s favorite color? - Doesn't really have one but I guess it could be the blue that's associated with Artorias.

What is your OC’s favorite scent? - Artorias & the beginning of Summer.

What is your OC’s favorite animal? - He’ll just say “lions”. Not a huge fan of animals.

What is your OC’s favorite sound? - The sounds of Artorias cumming Nature.

What is your OC’s favorite time of day? - Night. As a child, nighttime always meant story time around the village. As a teen that meant he had some time to sleep. As an adult he can sometimes rest with his partner.

What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream? - None. It would probably be dark chocolate or vanilla.

What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur? - None. They’d remind him of dragons!

Video of Bambi’s dad so you can hear his voice! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLF9u-Y_dlM

[mondartmusen]

“ –Then, the Lion King bestowed "Gifts" upon the Knights stained by their comrades' blood. […] Mordred received the Gift of "Rampage." It wasn't asked for, but it was given. “

Though I love ALL the text regarding the Lion King’s gifts to her Knights in Camelot/Zero, Mordred’s is one of the two I love most. The other one is the one that makes me weep bitterly. The way it’s said that the knights ‘received’ them in the two lines prior suggest they actually could’ve really been a form of reward to the Knights who’d allied with her; Tristan’s ‘Inversion’ while certainly a cruel sort of reward did keep him from being consumed entirely by his despair and continue with his duties. Meanwhile, Gawain’s ‘Everlight’ being characterized as his wish to maximize his usefulness fits him perfectly, in that requesting something of his King that would allow him to better serve is absolutely the kind of thing you imagine Gawain doing.  And then, we get to Mordred- ‘Rampage’. A gift not asked for, but given even so- Because of course it wasn’t asked for, and of course the Lion King would’ve given it anyways. The only thing Mordred would’ve ever asked of the Lion King would’ve been her recognition and the chance to serve her. Mordred is not the type to want to rely on anyone else’s power, not when it can be helped- Honor may not matter much, but pride? Pride certainly does, and when it would come to proving their worth to their Father, it’s only natural Mordred would want to do it only with their own skills, their own abilities, and certainly not with some boost given to them from the Lion King.  But what the Knights want is of no concern to the Lion King - If they are not there to make themselves of use and to further her goal of preserving humanity, then she will and did kill them to make sure that her plan is not interfered with. Their feelings do not matter to her in the slightest, and it is only to her advantage to see that the Knights are both as powerful as they could possibly be and entirely incapable of standing to oppose. Therefore, Mordred is given a gift, 'Rampage’. The closest any version of Artoria has come to appreciating Mordred, and it’s with Rampage. That is what the Lion King wants and expects of them- To rampage, to go berserk. It’s not merely Mordred losing control- Control is actively taken away from them by the Goddess Rhongomyniad, as by the nature of the Lion King’s gifts, they cannot turn against her. Being Chaotic Neutral to start, Mordred would’ve never been allowed within Rhongomyniad, and even if they had been on that basis, as with the Lion King’s other Knights, their actions in the singularity would’ve stripped their qualifications. No matter what Mordred had done- Turned against the Lion King in Camelot/Zero, side with her and defect, or stay as her Knight through to the end (as they actually did), there was no true choice offered to them. As it ever had, Rhongomyniad made Mordred’s fate in Camelot inevitable. Faced with death, Mordred was made to do as Mordred had always done. Rampage.

[lyxine]

Snowballs (or one of Ledo’s crazy ideas)

So... @nightmaredaisy and I were discussing about lore and we ended up talking about Ledo and Havel, the buff dads. That’s how this one-shot was born, and thus, why I’m publishing it. There are several little OCs just to add a name to the Silver Knights, since they’re all faceless.

Snow wasn’t a rare thing in winter, but most of the time, it melted once it touched the floor, usually soaking the patrolling knights under their armor. Most of them found the sensation annoying, and hoped that they wouldn’t have to clean the barracks once they got there, but could brush it off. After all, the Winter Solstice was approaching, and they would be feasting… Except for the ones who would be on guard duty, mostly because of their behavior or their poor results.

However, this winter was colder than the others, and allowed the snow to fall and actually stay, covering the floor under a thick white coat. The archers on the roofs were annoyed, and had to brush the snow from their armor every five minutes, while the patrols tried their best to not slip on something. They had an image to maintain after all, and the snow was nothing compared to dragons. They would carry on their duty and-

*SPLAT*

A snowball crashed on the captain’s helmet, the snow hitting the back of his head. The whole patrol froze, most of the knights trying to keep a serious face.

“Who did that?!”

All of the heads turned to Ledo, whose gloves were covered by snow.

“Ledo. Of course.”

“I’m sorry I aimed for your shoulders.”

“By the Gods…”

“He’s so dead…”

“Come on, there are no dragons here! We can… Chill a bit no?”

Some knights failed to hide their laughs. Ledo was an eccentric among them, but his actions always had a nice goal, and when they weren’t on duty, it was a great source of fun amongst the Silver Knights.

“If your acts distract the patrol once more, I’ll have to report your behaviour to Sir Ornstein…”

*SPLAT*

The two knights turned around, searching for the source of the noise. One of them, Lauriam, groaned and looked around, brushing off the snow that landed on his chest and then looked up. An archer threw an another snowball at the face of the knight, making him fall backwards.

“EILIANNN!”

“Whoah, calm down Lauriam! I’m sure it was friend-”

*SPLAT*

Sant was interrupted by two snowballs, thrown by other laughing archers on the roofs. Ledo shrugged and turned towards his captain.

“I swear, that’s not my fault here.”

The patrolling knights had already sheathed or strapped their weapons to their back, and had taken cover behind pillars. More snowballs flew, and before long, a fight opposing the archers and the patrol was raging. The captain had joined the fray and was leading his squad, while the archers were led by Eilian. Ledo smiled during the whole fight, happy to contribute to the amusement of his fellow knights.

Meanwhile, at the doors of the Chapel…

“So, we still need to pick the knights that are going to guard the city during the Feast… Any ideas, Artorias, my Lord?”

“I just hope that you won’t be a part of these guards.” said the Firstborn “After all, there will be the Lady of Izalith, and it would be a bit disappointing if you weren’t there.”

“After all, you’re the Captain of the Four Knights Ornstein. A captain must be here to speak in our name, right?”

“Right… But still, better be safe than sorry. So any id-”

*SPLAT*

Snow crashed on the Lion’s helmet. Everything froze. The silver knights engaged in the snowball fight dropped their half formed snowballs on the floor and looked at each other, their eyes filled with fear. Ornstein turned his head around and looked at the snowy mess that was the guards. The wind howled, and for a moment, every armor seemed petrified.

“We’re so dead…” muttered Eilian

The Lion knight stared at the knights, then the streets. He gripped his spear, ready to strike the paralyzed knights. How could they mess up something as simple as a patrol?! Who was the instigator of this mess?! And why-

*SPLAT*

A snowball hit him from behind, and he turned around once more, ignoring the knights staring at him. Lightning bolts began to crack around his spear when he saw the culprit of this dishonorable attack smile a bit.

“ARTORIAAAASSS!!”

“EVERYONE SCATTER!!!” yelled a knight, running away as fast as possible to hide in the nearby streets.

Panic seized the silver knights and every single one of them tried to run away, trying to get as far as possible from their furious Captain. A lightning spear flew above their heads. Ledo sprinted away, chased by Lauriam, who was being chased by his comrades. After all, he was the one who missed his shot and hit Sir Ornstein in the first place.

*SPLAT*

Ornstein turned around, once again, hit by behind. Artorias was already following the other knights in their attempt to run, so who-

“My… My Lord. I’m sorry for the knights’ behaviour and I promise that I’m going to find the one who started it all in the first-”

The redhead saw his lord’s hands covered in snow. No, he couldn’t…

“My… My Lord?”

He was trying to stay calm, even if a storm was raging inside of him. His eyebrow twitched behind his helmet when he saw Gwynnant smile and shrug, denying the proof of his guilt in this action. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself and not thinking about setting the barracks ablaze.

At least, he found the ones who would be on duty the day of the Feast.

Winter Solstice, Night of the Feast

“Hey Lauri’! I just had a cool idea to distinguish ourselves from the others!”

Lauriam sighed loudly and tightened his hold on his sword. Ledo and he were on duty during the best night of the year, and he blamed the eccentric knight for making him miss the Feast. He had his looks on a pretty maid, and wished to dance with her, even if it would be hidden from all sights, and probably without music.

“You know what Ledo, fuck you. I’m missing the best night of the year because of your stupid idea.”

“Well, if you aimed a bit better, you could’ve hit Henog easily.”

“I hate you…”

Lauriam leaned against the wall, trying to hear the noises of the Feast inside the castle, but for nothing. Ledo removed his helmet, without minding Lauriam’s wrathful gaze.

“Lauriaaaam… Look at meeee…”

“What kind of thing are you doing agai-”

Ledo stood proudly, reindeer antlers stuck to the wings of his helmet. The Silver Knight was smiling under his helmet, proud of his makeshift ornaments. Lauriam just stared for a minute, then rolled his eyes.

“Really?! This is stupid.”

“Come on! You never heard about that human tradition? The one with the Slave Knight and his gifts for his lords riding a reindeer?”

“Yes. I heard about that stupid children’s tale… But really, you're just a kid in an adult’s body. First the snowball battle, then this?”

“Admit that you enjoyed it too. I never saw you happier on patrol duty than there!”

“If you didn't threw that snowball in the first place, Eilian would've never-"

Lauriam was interrupted by the familiar creaking of a door. Quitting the wall he leaned on, he silently rushed to see who used the backdoor, and why. Ledo held his position at his post, looking for anyone who would come out by the main door.

“By the Gods… Hey, Ledo!” whispered a surprised Lauriam “That's pure gold, come and see!”

“Aren't you supposed to be guarding the place?”

“... You got me. But please it won't last and it's gold! And besides you owe me that!”

“Alright, alright. There, let me see… Oh. Ohhh… Damn.”

The two knights witnessed a drunk Flann dancing alone, enumerating the various qualities of Gwynevere… Before getting more and more into details concerning her physical performances. A slightly pervert smile creeped up on Lauriam’s face.

“Yes… More… Hmmm… She really has a great… Chest… Hmmmhmmm…”

“Whatever. Don't forget that you're supposed to be on guard duty, not eavesdropping a drunk god’s antics and remember that Ornstein said that he would check if we worked.”

“What do I have to fear?”

“The task of cleaning the toilets and the rooms after the Feast. I did it once. Once. I won't do it again.”

“The Lords are drunkards?”

“No, but when they drink… Their consumption has to be counted in barrels and not in bottles!”

Lauriam had completely forgotten about Flann and had regained his place, looking at Ledo with curiosity.

“Whoa…”

“And it's far from what we drink, even for the Feast! Fine wines, refined alcohols… Then there are the dishes!”

“You could assist to the Lords’ Feast?”

“Well… Yes and no. I had to guard the door five years ago, but I wasn't allowed in… Like any Silver Knight. But I could sneak near the kitchens and have a glimpse of what they ate…”

“If only we could be inside… It's cold here. And we can't even move…”

“Don't worry. Sir Artorias and Gough are nice guys. There's a kind of… Reward for the ones guarding on this night. Although, it's a secret.”

“Wait a minute… The others…”

“They know about that. We're kind of unlucky to be picked each year.”

“You all asked for it.”

“Anyway. Once everything is over and the others come to guard the place… Sir Artorias let us in the room if he's not too drunk. Otherwise it's Gough or even Lady Ciaran who let us in… Although she does it only because Sir Artorias asked her.”

“Wait. That means that you can… Eat what's left and not have to drive one hell of a bargain in the kitchens?”

Ledo nodded and stood still when he heard the main door creaking open, and when Ornstein checked on both of them, before disappearing into the castle, looking tired. Even the captain of the Four Knights found the night exhausting, but not for the same reasons…

Havel’s private quarters, after the Feast night

Ledo stumbled into the room and crashed on his lover’s bed, leaving armor pieces on the floor. The cleric groaned at the loud entrance, and quickly shut the door behind him.

“I assume that you spent a long night? And you still have enough strength to get here?”

“I’m cold… I need some warmth…”

“No you're not sleeping here. Get back to the barracks and come back when you'll be able to get up after a session.”

“Now that's cold…”

“Ledo no.”

“Hrrrrmmm… Not listening.”

“There won't be enough time.”

“Each year you're saying that and each year nobody’s up to check on either you or me.”

“As long as we don't break the bed…”

[mrslittletall]

Prompt: I know you are in there somewhere fight Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Artorias the Abysswalker, Dragon Slayer Ornstein Word Count: 1.577 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153839/chapters/39038302 Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, Major Character Death

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Summary: Ornstein follows Artorias on his mission to Oolacile and is faced with a horrible decision, when he realizes, that his friend has been corrupted by the abyss.

(Author's note: It is time for the most angsty one of the prompts. Prepare your handkerchiefs for it is time to cry and suffer.) I have ideas for the purple marked prompts but you can still send them in to getting their position in the queue up. Also, I am still searching for a whumper for “Hiding an Injury”, so here is your chance.

Ornstein hadn't been able to shake this bad feeling away. After Artorias had left for his mission in Oolacile, he felt like something was wrong, very wrong. Ciaran must have felt it too, cause the woman had disappeared one night only leaving a note that she would have an eye on Artorias. But Ornstein still couldn't find any rest, so he abandoned his post, his duties and his silver knights to follow Artorias to Oolacile, even though he knew it would get him into great trouble.

And there he was now, standing in an arena, hardly able to believe his own eyes.

“Artorias?”, he asked, unsure if the raging figure in front of him really was his friend. “It is you, right? My eyes aren't doing tricks on me, correct?”

Instead of answering, Artorias howled and opened with a jumping attack. Ornstein managed to evade it at the last moment, a slight shock in him that Artorias would attack him. He clutched his spear in both hands, taking in a defensive stance.

“Artorias, don't you recognize me? It's me, Ornstein.”, he said with a pleading tone in his voice. As a response, Artorias swung his sword in his signature spinning move. Ornstein managed to avoid this attack too, he knew how deadly it could be. Artorias had never used it in a duel against him, knowing how devastating it would be if one day Ornstein wouldn't be able to evade it. His spear still tightly clutching, it felt like his knuckles were already going white beneath his gauntlets, Ornstein took a few steps backwards, as the wolf knight had to straighten up because of the attack's momentum.

Artorias took a few steps forward or more, he limped forward. Still walking backwards, Ornstein could see in what a bad state he was. He wasn't even holding his sword in the left hand, the whole arm dangled uselessly downwards, he had the sword in his right hand instead and didn't even had his shield with him. And where in the world was Sif? Ornstein could see the black sludge coming from him. Corrupted, he thought, taken by the abyss.

His armour clanked as Ornstein's back hit the arena wall. Artorias took this as opportunity to start another attack, Ornstein recognized the stance as the sword thrust. He didn't had any trouble to evade it, the distinct shape of the arena hindered that he could get cornered. Artorias immediately followed with another attack and this time Ornstein raised his spear to parry the swing.

If Artorias really had been taken by the abyss, he would have no choice. Ornstein felt a lump forming in his throat at the thought. He swallowed, it was a hot and dry feel, while the thoughts crossed his mind. Then I need to kill him.

He shivered at the thought. For now, he hadn't fought back, hadn't tried to hurt Artorias, simply evaded and parried his attacks. No, he couldn't do it. Artorias was his comrade, his friend, there had to be another way. He needed to snap him out of this rage. With a determined look at his face, Ornstein stepped back to evade another attack and swung his spear to parry the next blow of the sword.

“Artorias, you need to snap out of it.”, he said, pressing his spear against the sword, on which Artorias had laid a lot of force. Ornstein knew, if Artorias would have used his left hand, he wouldn't had any trouble to shove his spear aside and probably severe his arm in the process. “This is not who you are. You are Artorias, one of the four knights of Gwyn, one of Anor Londo's heroes who fought in the dragon war. You have a wolf companion named Sif.” Ornstein could feel that he would lose the battle of force, Artorias was close to push his weapon aside. He decided to pull back himself. The sudden absence of force made Artorias' sword collide heavily with the ground.

“Remember, who you are.”, Ornstein screamed over the noise. “Where is the Artorias that loved to bake cookies and would surprise us with them when we least expected it?”

The wolf knight only answered with another howl and started an attack that consisted of several successive flips. Absolute deadly if you got caught in it, Ornstein had to be on his toes to evade all three of them, but when Artorias got up after the finished attack, he had another chance.

“Artorias, please, don't you hear me?”, he said, his voice had a pleading tone in it. “You would always go feed the stray cats and dogs in Anor Londo, remember?”

Artorias turned his head and stared directly at Ornstein. Ornstein felt a chill running down his spine, the face of the wolf knight couldn't even been made out anymore.. it just looked like a black abyss.

“You were knitting all of us scarfs for the winter, remember?”, Ornstein said, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. There was no response.

“Fine.”, Ornstein said, sniffling a bit. “If I have to beat you out of this, so shall it be.” He readied his spear and started an attack, expecting Artorias to evade it, but the wolf knight just stayed where he was and Ornstein's spear connected with armour and flesh. He could make out blood that seeped from the fresh injury and Ornstein pulled his spear back immediately.

“Artorias, I am so sorry, I didn't want to... I was hoping...” What exactly? That Artorias would snap out of it by him fighting back? Staring at the bloodied blade of his spear, Ornstein didn't notice the sword coming down and a sharp pain in his left arm told him, that he hadn't evaded the blow in time. He could feel blood pouring out of the wound, the arm feeling limp, probably broken from the sheer force. “At least we are even now.”, Ornstein murmured and took his spear in his right hand alone.

Ornstein knew by heart how Artorias fought and the same should be true for Artorias and while the wolf knight used all his familiar attacks, he left himself wide open for Ornstein's own. Ornstein winced every time a blow connected with the wolf knight. After a while Artorias staggered back. “Artorias, are you back?”, Ornstein asked. “Have I finally beat some sense into you...?”

No answer. Instead, the darkness of the Abyss surrounded Artorias while he howled, Ornstein wasn't sure if it was in pain or in rage. Both probably.

“I know you are still in there somewhere.”, Ornstein screamed. “Artorias, please fight. Where is your unbreakable will of still you are so famous for?”

The black fog cleared around Artorias. Ornstein didn't knew if it was an illusion, but it looked like Artorias would glow with darkness. He took a few step backwards as the wolf knight limped forwards, adjusting his sword.

“It is of no use, right?”, Ornstein said, the tears which were welling up in his eyes starting to fall. “You have no clue who you are anymore, right?” He shivered. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to kill his friend. But I have too, were all he could think about.

Artorias readied a jump attack. This would be his chance. Ornstein had to do it now or he would never be able to scrape together the will for this atrocious act. He didn't move, he didn't try to avoid, instead shortly before Artorias attack connected with him, he jerked his spear up and pierced it through the chest of the wolf knight, having activated the special lightning powers within it. A thing he normally wouldn't do in any of their duels. He heard Artorias scream, a sound that would haunt him in his nightmares.

Blood and goo seeped out from Artorias, he could hear him wheeze. Ornstein yanked the spear out of the wound, which made more blood splatter, from Artorias chest and mouth. The wolf knight collapsed to the ground.

“Oh, Artorias, I am so sorry.”, Ornstein whispered, kneeling down beside his friend. “I wish there would have been another way. Why didn't you hear me?”

He could hardly believe it when he heard the faint whisper of Artorias voice. “Ornstein?”, he said.

“I am here, don't talk. It isn't too late. Maybe we can still fix you up!”, Ornstein frantically started to rummage around his belongings, he must have a divine blessing somewhere.

“Ornstein, it's too late.” A cough and a wheeze. “I am already consumed... by the dark.. the abyss.” Another cough, Ornstein could feel how a weak hand hold out to his own. “I am so sorry, please, all of you, forgive me. For I have availed nothing.”

Ornstein shivered, feeling the tears streaming out of his eyes, clutching the hand of his friend with his own.

“Thank you... that at least... I can die.. as myself... with a friend at my side.” The hand of Artorias got limp. Ornstein shivered, the salty taste of tears on his lips, he felt like screaming, but instead, he just collapsed on the ground, feeling empty, as if some void had swallowed his heart.

He could feel a hand on his shoulder and raised his head a little, enough to make out Ciaran's mask.

“Ciaran... what have I done?”, he asked.

“What you had to.” (Author's note: I used some of the cut Artorias dialogue for this. From the moment I saw this prompt I wanted to use Ornstein and Artorias for it. The fic was inspired by this video.)

[mrslittletall]

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 13) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Lord's Blade Ciaran, Hawkeye Gough, Great Grey Wolf Sif, Dusk of Oolacile Word Count: 2.308 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/41185475 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/181649700929/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-12

Summary: In which a burial is attended.

(Author's note: My apology for the long wait, I was concentrating on finishing one of my other WIPs first, so that this one got onto the backburner. I don't think I will put it at  set schedule, I will just post chapters whenever I have them ready.

Also, this chapter was pretty difficult to write, the whole story is actually. Dealing with loss is a tough life experience...)

Ornstein just had finished reading over the speech one last time when he heard the knock on the door.

“Come in, it is open.”, he said and Ciaran walked into his room, simply saying: “It's time.” Ornstein looked out the window to see how high up the sun already was. “Already? I haven't even noticed how the time ran...” He grabbed for his right gauntlet and his helmet and put both of them on, then neatly furled the speech and grabbed for his spear. He was about to walk through the door where Ciaran was waiting for him, when he felt the pain in his stomach. Ugh, not again, don't let it be back, keep it together., he thought and got snapped out of his thoughts by Ciaran.

“We really should get moving, Ornstein.”, she said. “We need to get Gough too. He agreed to leave his tower for once to attend the funeral.”

“I am sorry, Ciaran, I just was lost in thoughts.”, Ornstein said. “Has Artorias already been brought to the grave?”

“Yes and I can tell you, it was hard work to keep Sif from tearing the soldiers apart who were brought to get him.”, Ciaran said, her footsteps so silent they barely could be heard in contrast to the clank of Ornstein's metal boots. “But I managed to calm her down and she is waiting with Gough now.”

“I wonder what Sif will do once this is all over?”, Ornstein murmured, more to himself. The young wolf hadn't left Artorias dead body in days (much like Ciaran) and he couldn't imagine her coming back to the cathedral, when her master wasn't even there anymore.

The both knights arrived at the arena and Ciaran made a beeline for Gough's tower, Ornstein following her quietly, laying a hand on his stomach, even though it was of no use with several pounds of metal armour between his hand and skin. They climbed the tower without saying a word to each other and when Ornstein finished ascending the ladder, he saw Sif sitting there, staring at him with vigilant eyes. Ciaran approached Gough.

“It is time.”, she said and the giant laid his current carving down.

“Let's go.”, he just said.

Ornstein led the small group, his foot steps were the most prominent to hear for the giant. He couldn't see anymore, but his hearing was astounding and he only needed a clear sound to know where he needed to turn. Ciaran made sure to warn him about any obstacles that the giant could tear down during his walk.

The closer they got to the grave, the more tight Ornstein's throat felt. He could feel how Sif, who was walking at his feet, would press herself against his legs, he could feel it even through his armour. It comforted him a tiny bit. He really did had enough time to prepare for this moment, but going there, bury Artorias, putting him to rest, felt so... final. He subconsciously clutched both his hands and the rustling of the parchment made him snap out of it. Damnit, he needed to keep it together. He had to hold a speech, honour his fallen comrade and friend and represent Anor Londo in the best way possible. He started to take some deep breathes, concentrating on his feet, putting one step in front of the other, until they arrived at the burial grounds.

Ornstein unlocked his gaze from the ground and took a look around. The massive gravestone was the first thing he saw. There was a massive hole dug out in front of him and he could spend a closed casket in which Artorias probably had been laid. The right decision in Ornstein's opinion, his sight had been too gruesome. A bit away from the hole there had been several chairs placed and in front of them was a desk, where Dusk already stood, the sword of Artorias was leaned against it. The chairs were occupied with the remaining Oolacile citizens, he could see some of the soldiers and Dusk's maidens, all dressed in the proper black. Even though as a knight and captain it was expected from Ornstein to wear his armour, he felt a bit weird to shine so bright in this sea of dark. He noticed that he started shivering. Oh no, not here, not now, keep it together. He could feel a giant hand laying on his shoulder and he winced in surprise, but then relaxed, murmuring “Thanks Gough.”

The three knights took their place behind the row of chairs, each of them standing tall, like they always had. Sif laid down at their feet. Ornstein put his attention on Dusk, who had observed them and started to talk once she noticed that they all had settled.

“We have gathered here today to honour the great Sir Artorias, the Abysswalker, and to bid our final farewells.”, Dusk started, her words loud and clear. “Like you probably all know, Sir Artorias saved us from a great threat and also saved my very own life. But for anyone not in the clear, let me tell you the story of his heroic sacrifice...”

Ornstein zoned out when he heard that bit. He didn't need to hear the lies another time. And zoning out actually helped him to calm down a bit. He only managed to break out of it though when Ciaran was giving him a nudge. “Your turn.”, she whispered and Ornstein looked around confusedly when he saw Dusk's gaze on him and instantly knew that he had missed his cue to take up the word.

“Shit.”, he cursed under his breath, clutched the speech and made his way to the desk.

“Sir Ornstein, may I give the word to you?”, Dusk asked and Ornstein stepped at her place, laying down his spear next to Artorias sword, unfurling the speech.

“When I wrote this speech, I first was thinking about telling you about all the heroic deeds Artorias had done as a knight.”, he started off. “But I am sure you all already know about this. Instead, I want to talk about some other heroic deeds Artorias has fulfilled, the heroic deeds he did as a friend.”

He took a deep breath and took a glance at his notes. “When I first met Artorias, he was only a voice through a closed door in the silver knights quarters, I did had a bad cold and told him to just leave me alone, but he insisted to help me out, even though he didn't even knew my name.”

“He gave me cookies for a week, can you imagine...”

“And he sacrificed sleep just to give me an appropriate gift...”

“He stayed with me the whole night when I had terrible food poisoning...”

“...and then he carried me back to the cathedral after I had this accident, even being discrete enough to make sure that nobody would see it...”

“And now, just like the taste of the cookies he made, all what is left are memories... We will never eat his cookies again, like we never will see our dear friend again... All we can do is guide him at his last journey...”

With this words, Ornstein finished his speech and left the desk without waiting for any reaction, realizing that some tears had stained his face, tears that gladly were invisible under his helmet. He walked back to Ciaran, Gough and Sif, each step feeling like walking over clouds. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear that Princess Dusk had took up the word again, but he simply took his place next to Ciaran, the shivering getting stronger, making his armour clatter.

“Keep it together.”, he whispered to himself. He could feel how Gough's giant hand was laid on his shoulder and Ciaran whispered to him: “You did well.”

“So now let us return this body and soul to the flames.”, Dusk said and Ornstein braced himself. As the captain, this was his duty. He nudged at Ciaran: “Did you bring the soul?” The small woman simply pulled it out from seemingly nowhere, stared at it for some time and then handed it to Ornstein without uttering a single word. Ornstein took it, stared at it too, at this swirling mass of darkness, that didn't remind him of Artorias at all anymore. He quickly averted his gaze from it when he felt the now familiar nausea coming back. He started walking again, one step at a time, concentrating on the golems that heaved Artorias casket of the ground and gently lowered it in the hole.

It had been Artorias wish that his soul would be buried with his body, should it linger on in this world. Ornstein was glad that the Undead had decided to do the right thing and give it to Ciaran instead popping it or making it in a weapon. For a brief moment, Ornstein wondered in what kind of weapon Artorias' soul would have transformed... in this twisted and wrong state, it was impossible that it would have been turned out to be the majestic great sword the wolf knight had been so famous for... His thoughts got interrupted by him arriving at the hole, where Dusk already waited.

She looked at him with a glance that felt like she was asking if he was alright and Ornstein simply nodded at her, turning to the grave, staring one last time at the soul before letting go and watching how it floated to land on top of the casket. The golems started to grab shovels, slowly filling the hole with earth while Ornstein took in the usual prayer stance of Lordran, murmuring: “May the flames guide this soul to their journey to Nito, may he watch over them and may they one day return to the flames where we came from.”

He heard collective murmuring behind him, the people attending the burial repeating the prayer. He watched as the hole got filled up completely and when the golems left, only one last thing was to do. He went to get the sword of Artorias as long as a tiny box.

“Sif.”, Ornstein said and the wolf came trotting to the front slowly, sitting before him, her eyes watching his every movement.

“Artorias wanted you to have his sword and his two rings, the wolf ring he got for his duty as knight of Gwyn and the Covenant of Artorias, which enabled him to walk the abyss to face its dangers.” He presented the box to Sif, who slowly did take it into her mouth. “For the sword, you are still too small to wield it yourself.”, Ornstein continued. He turned away from Sif, grabbed the sword with both of his hands and slammed it into the earth. “So would you watch over it and his grave until you are old enough to wield it and move on on your own?”

It felt like the best thing for Sif honestly. She had been so close to Artorias, she wouldn't be happy if he brought her back to the cathedral with him, where she didn't had a real task. Sif placed the box with the rings next to the sword and then threw back her head and howled. It was a long, painful sound and Ornstein could barely stand hearing it, it felt like it would pierce through his entire being. After Sif had finished her final farewell, she laid down on the grave, giving Ornstein one last glance, as if she wanted to say, that he could count on her.

Ornstein stayed at the grave while he heard Dusk talk to the attendants of the ceremony and he could hear the noises of departure. Ciaran and Gough joined him and Sif, neither of them saying a word, they all knew what the other was feeling. Ornstein felt the tears flowing freely down his face now, grateful for the mask he was wearing, cause nobody was to see the dragon slayer cry like this. Ciaran next to him clutched his arm and Gough once again gently laid his giant hand on his shoulders, as they all said their silent goodbyes to their fallen companion.

How long they stayed like this, Ornstein didn't know, but eventually Ciaran did release him and Gough murmured: “We should get going.” Ornstein snapped out of his trance and a wave of terrible nausea washed over him almost instantly. He managed to topple to the side and open up his helmet just in time for his food forcing out its way once again. He stayed there for a few more moments, unsure if it was all over, breathing heavily, shivering, feeling like a breakdown had wanted to come, but missed its cue. He wiped his mouth. “Shit, I am sorry for this, Artorias.”, he said, feeling extremely guilty for having to puke at his friend's burial ceremony.

“Sir Ornstein, are you feeling alright? Do you want some more medicine?”, Dusk suddenly had appeared at his side. Or had she stood there all this time already? Ornstein wanted to shook his head, but it made him feel even more fuzzy, so instead he said: “No, I am fine.”

“Will you go back to Anor Londo now?”, Dusk asked. Ornstein raised his head and stared at the sun, which would set soon.

“It is too late for now.”, he answered. “I sincerely thank you for your hospitality so far, Princess Dusk. May we stay another night before returning to our home town?”

“Of course.”, Dusk said. “Do you want to go back to the mansion with me?”

“No.”, Ornstein said. “I want to stay here for a little while longer.” Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/182428199914/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-14

[mrslittletall]

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 2) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Lord's Blade Ciaran, Hawkeye Gough Word Count: 1.578 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/38359385 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/179151495764/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-1

Summary: In which Ornstein arrives at Oolacile.

Ornstein stared in his chamber pot, which contained the remains of what once had been rice porridge. He had been able to get a bit of sleep, but then had woken up with such an intense nausea that he barely managed to grab the pot before it all spilled it all out. Now he sat hunched before it, breathing heavily, still don't trusting his stomach, but after ten minutes had passed, he was content that at the nausea was gone now. At least something good came out of this uncomfortable experience. Sadly, his stomach ache still remained.

With a deep sigh, Ornstein put the chamber pot beside his bed side and used the jar of water on his night stand to clean out the bad taste in his mouth. Then he crawled back into bed, laying down on his back and trying to drift back to sleep, without any success. His mind wandered to the following day. To the thought of Artorias never coming back to the cathedral. Even worse, the thought of him never being able to talk to Artorias anymore. There would be no more duels, no more patrols together, no more cookies. Ornstein shifted around in his bed and grabbed a pillow to hold on tight. They both had known that something like this could happen everyday. But... why had Artorias to be the first one of them who died? He always had been able to hold all of them together...

“Keep it together.”, Ornstein whispered in the pillows, noticing that tears had started to flow. “I am sure he has died an honourable death at last. That he will be remembered as the hero we all knew he is.”

This thought comforted Ornstein a bit and eventually he was able to drift back into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning Ornstein woke up with his stomach still slightly aching. He pulled the blankets back to get out of bed and nearly stepped in the chamber pot at his bed side. Right, he had puked in the night... Ornstein got dressed, put on his armour and cleaned out the chamber pot before grabbing the empty plate and making his way to the kitchen to give back the used dishes.

“Are you feeling better? Did it upset your stomach?”, the same servant as yesterday wanted to know.

“Everything was fine. Thanks for the meal.”, Ornstein lied and got some light food to eat as breakfast. Hopefully it would stay down this time.

After he had eaten, he was searching for his most trusted silver knights to put them in charge while he was away. He had decided for two of them, a spear silver knight and a sword silver knight who were related to each other and whose family were serving in Gwyn's army since generations. He knew he could trust them to keep up the order in the cathedral. He was still a tiny bit worried. He hadn't followed Artorias on his mission, not only because he trusted the wolf knight to be able to handle it on his own, but also because the situation in Anor Londo wasn't good, with undead hollowing and demon sightings everywhere. It put the population at ease having at least one of Gwyn's knight around. Well, Ornstein couldn't help it, if one of them fell, he had to come to pay his respects. He would make sure to get everything done as quickly as possible and return with Ciaran. This thought felt a bit comforting to him. At least he wouldn't feel that alone with his pain.

After Ornstein had made sure, that everything was taken care off, he shortly visited Gwyndolin in the Dark Moon Tomb and told them that he would be on his way now and which silver knights where in charge. Gwyndolin wished him a safe journey and Ornstein got on his way.

It was late afternoon when he arrived in Oolacile. He had gotten lunch on a tavern on the way, but regretted it a bit. The rich food had upset his stomach again and made his nausea return. And it had gotten worse with each step closer to the Royal Garden, the place where he had been told he could find Ciaran.

After asking around a bit further, Ornstein was pointed to the large circular arena. After entering, he took a glance around. It was obvious, that a battle had taken place here. There was blood on the ground and he could spot some strange black ooze as well as one of the deformed Oolacile citizens, laying dead near a wall. He also noticed a large figure hidden under a blanket. He assumed, that this was Artorias corpse. This assumption got further confirmed by Sif, Artorias wolf companion, laying besides it. Sif raised her head when she heard Ornstein's footstep and looked at him with vigilant eyes, before laying it back down, certain that Ornstein wasn't any danger. The sight of the assumed corpse made Ornstein's stomach feel even more uneasy, so he unglued his gaze from it and instead searched for Ciaran. He found her praying in front of a makeshift grave. Ornstein approached her slowly. She looked up when she heard his footsteps.

"You are here so soon?", she asked.

"I did send you a message. Haven't you received it?"

Ciaran pulled out the message he had sent to her and unfolded it: "I had trouble reading it. Couldn't make out when you wanted to come. I am sorry."

He had completely forgotten this! His handwriting was so messy, that almost everyone had great trouble reading it properly. Strangely, Artorias had been the one who could read his handwriting with no trouble at all and a part of Ornstein had still assumed, that he would just read it for Ciaran, only that he... couldn't do it anymore.

"I am so sorry. I forgot...", he started and then had to stop because the stomach in his pain flared up badly.

“It was a shock for all of us, so I am not surprised that you forgot.”, Ciaran murmured and stood up, turning around. “How did you take it?”

There wasn't any point in lying to Ciaran, she knew him for hundreds of years now. He lowered his spear until it scrapped on the ground and said: “It was... a shock, honestly. I barely could believe that message and even was thinking for a fraction of a second that it must have been a bad joke.”

“You know that I would never joke about this.”, Ciaran said, crossing her arms.

“I guess this is for Artorias?”, Ornstein asked and pointed with the tip of his spear at the grave. Ciaran nodded and stepped to the side. Ornstein got down on his knees, closed his eyes and spoke a silent prayer for his fallen comrade. Even though he didn't know who this prayer was directed at, he just hoped the right god would hear it.

He opened his eyes after finishing the prayer and noticed that the plume of Artorias helmet had been laid down on the makeshift grave along with some white flowers, he recognized them as Artorias favourite. The sight made his stomach drop, it showed how much Ciaran had cared for him. Ornstein stood up.

“How is Gough?”, he asked. The giant archer had retired from his duties in Anor Londo for quite some years now and decided to spent his days in Oolacile. Sadly, he got blinded by some biased townsfolk who were thinking that Gough was just a brute.

“I think it would be easiest if we just visit him.”, Ciaran said. “It has been hard for all of us... we surely can need the comfort from each other.”

Ornstein silently followed Ciaran to the tower where Gough resided nowadays, spending pretty much all his waking hours with carving. After they entered, the giant archer moved his head in their apparent direction. Even with Gough's restricted sight, it amazed Ornstein how well Gough could perceive his surroundings. That showed even more when Gough started to speak: "Are you alright, Ornstein? You seem to be pretty shaken..."

“Neither me nor Ciaran have said anything yet.”, he answered.

“Footsteps, breathing, I don't need more to know who is coming along.”, Gough said. “You haven't answered my question.”

“I am just... still in shock.”, Ornstein said, once again greatly understating how he actually felt, but he really didn't want to worry them even more, not with the grief they already were carrying around. He decided to to change the subject instead: "On the way here I heard about what Artorias had achieved. They call him the Abysswalker now. Artorias always wanted such a title. He would be so happy about this. And at least, he could die the death of a hero." Ornstein had been very relieved to hear this tales, it was what Artorias deserved. So he felt a bit stumped when Ciaran and Gough exchanged this kind of look, as if they knew something he didn't.

“Alright, what do you know that I don't know?”, he demanded to know of them.

"There is something we need to tell you...", started the giant.

"I will show it to him...", Ciaran said. “But beware, it's an ugly truth.”

Ornstein felt the pain in his stomach flare up again, but he wouldn't falter: "I don't care. Please show me the truth." Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/179659307549/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-3

[mrslittletall]

Title: Keeping it together (Chapter 9) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Lord's Blade Ciaran, Dusk of Oolacile Word Count: 1.579 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328084/chapters/39871518 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/180833198144/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-8

Summary: The answer from Gwyndolin arrives and Dusk asks a question.

Ornstein jerked up when he felt someone nudge him, gasping and shouting: “What is it? Did we have another dragon attack? Do we need to move out?”

He managed to get a glance at Ciaran, standing in front of his bed, baffled. “Ornstein, the dragon war has been hundreds of years ago? Were you dreaming?”

Ornstein flopped back into the pillows, hissing when he felt a pang in his stomach, it seemed to be back. He should get another cup of that tea.

“Yes, I must have been dreaming...”, he murmured.

“Anyway.”, Ciaran said. “I was searching the whole area for you until I found out you decided to take a nap in broad daylight. We have Gwyndolin's answer.” She produced an envelope and waved with it.

Ornstein shot up again, regretting the sudden motion when a bit of nausea washed over him. He slowly and carefully moved to the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. Ciaran handed him the envelope.

“Ornstein, if you feel that sick, ask Dusk for some medicine already.”, Ciaran said. “A blind man can see that you are not feeling well.”

“It will be fine, I just ask for another cup of that tea.”, Ornstein mumbled more to himself and looked at the envelope, seeing that it was indeed sealed with the dark moon, the symbol of Gwyndolin. He broke the seal and read the answer.

“What does it say?”, Ciaran asked.

“You all knew Artorias the best. I give you the authority to make the decision in my position.”, Ornstein read aloud.

“Oh well, that felt like a waste of time.”, Ciaran annotated. “I think we all have agreed that Artorias would have loved it to be buried here. Shall we bring our decision to Princess Dusk?”

Ornstein stood up from the bed and walked over to his armour, getting it on.

“Yes, we should tell her. Is she out in the garden again?”, he asked, already opening the door to the garden without waiting for a reply. He glanced outside and saw that it already was late noon, almost evening. “Wait, how long have I slept?”, he asked himself.

“Depending on when you laid down, it must have been quite some time.”, Ciaran mentioned from behind. “She should be in the garden, she seems to spend most of her time there.” Ciaran swiftly walked past Ornstein, scanning the garden. Ornstein followed her and quickly spotted Dusk sitting on the same spot as the last time. He walked over and sat down next to her. The princess flinched a bit when she realized his presence.

“Princess Dusk, we got the answer from Anor Londo.”, Ornstein said. Dusk turned her head, smiled the usual sad smile and said: “Oh, that was pretty quick. And what is your decision?”

“We have decided that you can erect a grave for Artorias in the Royal Garden. We knights have talked about it, agreed that he would love it and the Dark Sun approves of our decision.”, Ornstein explained.

“Well then.”, Dusk got up. “We will start preparations on the grave at once tomorrow. It should take us a day and a half until everything is ready for the ceremony.”

“Wait, what? That is awfully quick.”; Ornstein said, bewildered.

“Oolacile isn't called the land of golden sorceries for nothing.”, Ciaran said. Ornstein had almost forgotten that she was there too, she was awfully good in hiding her presence.

“Lady Ciaran is right.”, Dusk said. “With the help of our magic we can greatly shorten the time of such a work.” Her face darkened a bit. “Of course we are short of workers... but we will make sure to give Artorias the nicest grave we can muster. After all, we are in a great debt and this is just a little thing how we can repay him.”

Ornstein's stomach cramped again. No, he had to keep it together. Soon, this all would be over with.

“It has gotten quite late.”, Dusk said, staring at the sky. “How about both of you join us for some dinner?”

Ornstein looked at Ciaran, who only shrugged. “We gladly accept your offer.”, he said. “... Can I get another cup of that herbal tea?”

“Of course.”, Dusk said and started to walk towards the mansion. “Although maybe you should think about taking some medicine now? Are you sure you are able to stomach something?”

“It will be fine, it isn't that bad.”, Ornstein said and then with a raised voice cause Ciaran had let loose a sarcastically cough. “I just don't want to get it worse.”

A short while later they all were seated on the table, Ornstein and Ciaran on one side while Dusk and her maidens occupied the other side. Ornstein had gotten the requested cup of tea and was sipping from it while they were waiting for the food. He didn't even knew that Ciaran was capable of it, but she was holding some small talk with the maidens while Dusk just sat there quietly, with that fake smile on her face. Ornstein started to wish she would stop it. It made him feel uneasy. It reminded him too much of himself.

Luckily, the food arrived. It seemed to be chicken soup. The kind of food you would give to a sick person. Ornstein wondered if she had ordered this food on purpose while he took his sweet time eating it, trying to stomach it all this time. He could see from the corner of his eye that Ciaran barely ate anything and mostly stared at the food listless. He decided to concentrate on his own food instead, watching her made him feel far too uneasy.

“Would one of you agree to hold a speech at the burial ceremony?”, the voice of Princess Dusk sounded. Ornstein nearly tossed his spoon in the soup and caught it just in time. He had completely forgotten about this. Of course one of them had to honour their fallen comrade like that. Before he could even say something in the matter, Ciaran took up the word.

“I am not one for giving speeches. I will leave this to my captain instead.”, she said.

“Ciaran, you can't just dump that on me.”, Ornstein grumbled. “But I guess I am the right one for doing it, I am the captain after all...”

“So, you will do it? How wonderful.”, Dusk said, hands folded in front of her.

“Yes, I will hold a speech at the ceremony.”, Ornstein said and got back to concentrating on his plate again, trying to avoid the satisfied face of the princess.

After dinner, Ornstein retreated to his room in the mansion. Ciaran had made clear that she would go back to the arena again, because someone had to watch over Artorias. Ornstein still had the conversation with her before she left on his mind.

“You have barely eaten anything, Ciaran, I noticed.”, he said.

“You are one to talk.”, she responded. “You can give me lectures when you manage to keep your food in.”

“Touché...”, Ornstein whispered. “Still, I am worried, you haven't felt like yourself since I arrived here.”

“Don't worry about me, better worry about that speech.”, Ciaran said and with that the discussion had been over. Ornstein stopped musing over it and stared at the scroll he had spread on the table, quill in hand. How should he start with that speech?

People probably would want to hear about the deeds he did and for what he died? Should he start in the beginning? That would have been the dragon war. Some fond memories of them fighting dragons together flooded his mind, but it darkened at once, thinking that he never would fight side by side with Artorias again... Shit, stuff like this really shouldn't be in the speech. He should get it together and just start writing. So he dipped the quill into ink and started writing.

He had just finished the first three sentences when he felt the breakdown coming. He didn't want to. He had to keep it together. He clenched the quill and continued writing, furiously scribbling on the paper until his hand shook so much that he dropped the quill. Some ink drops stained the paper as Ornstein put his hand on his forehead, he felt sweat forming. “No, keep it together.”, he murmured his mantra. “Don't break down over this. You haven't even come to the lie.” That realization was too much, his stomach turned upside down and the next thing he knew was that he was in the outhouse puking out all of the soup.

Ornstein staggered back in the room, grabbed the jar of water and cleaned out his mouth, spitting the water out in the flower fields in the garden. He returned to the table, massaging his stomach. He felt hot, really hot. Did he come down with a fever? He sat down on the table, picked up the quill and stared at the scroll.

He had scribbled “Keeping it together” all over it. Ornstein tossed the quill aside and just let his head fall on the table, sighing loudly.

Oh well, he had the whole day tomorrow to write the speech. He shouldn't overdo it. Ornstein decided to call it a day for now and got ready for bed. (Author's note: Poor Ornstein... he is so confused and this guy just needs to admit that he needs some help... And Ciaran isn't much better.) Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/181248417474/title-keeping-it-together-chapter-10

[mrslittletall]

Title: Refusal AO3-Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13604067 Characters: Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Lord’s Blade Ciaran, Great Grey Wolf Sif Word count: 985 Summary: Two knights have to deal with the death of a certain third knight.

Ciaran refused to leave Artorias’ grave. Ornstein got quickly notified about Artorias death. After the initial shock was over, the burial had to be planned. Princess Dusk of Oolacile had agreed to erect a grave in the royal garden, so the Dragonslayer was on his way to pay his last respects to his old friend and companion. Artorias was called the Abysswalker now. He was praised as a hero who had stopped the spread of the abyss. It was false. Shortly before the burial, Ciaran had took Ornstein to the side and told him the truth. Artorias had been corrupted by the darkness of the abyss, gone onto a berserking rage and was released from this state by the hands of an undead that coincidentally happened to be around. The undead also finished Artorias mission and stopped the spread of the abyss. And they agreed that nobody would ever get to know this tale and all their deeds would go to Artorias. Undead were on the verge of hollowing all the time, so it was quite impressed that one of them wouldn’t want to be praised for their heroic deeds. They must have been a really determined one. Of course they had to be determined when they were able to beat Artorias.... After the ceremony was over, Ciaran sat down behind the gravestone and refused to move. Sif, the wolf puppy of Artorias, joined her and laid down in front of the grave. The pup had inherited the belongings of Artorias, the great sword and his ring. They hadn’t been able to find his shield, but the wolf wouldn’t have been able to wield it anyway. Ornstein tried a while to talk some sense into Ciaran, but to no avail. She needed her time to grief. He stayed a while until he had to return to his duties in Anor Londo and decided to check up on Ciaran later. Even after weeks Ciaran hadn’t left her spot at the grave. Ornstein made it a habit to visit her and Sif. He normally would bring some food for them, then sat down at Ciaran’s side and they would talk. About their time in the dragon war, about the missions they did together, about their time in Anor Londo, about Artorias. They often would talk about Artorias. One particular topic, that come up often, was his love for cute things and animals. And of course how much they both missed him.  Enough time passed for Sif to grow from a pup into a great grey wolf. It was still a habit for Ornstein to visit him and Ciaran, but over the years, she grew less and less responsive. He would tell her about how things in Anor Londo where, the continued requests of Smough to become a knight and how the training with the silver knights went. Ciaran would acknowledge his presence and sometimes made a noise of approval, but she didn’t really talk anymore. Sometimes Ornstein would spar with Sif. It was quite impressive that Artorias had been able to teach his sword arts to a pup and more impressive how quickly said pup had picked up on it. Ciaran seemed to like watching those sparring matches between the Dragonslayer and the wolf. Ornstein enjoyed them too. Him and Artorias would challenge each other all the time. He remembered, that Ciaran would have always sat in a corner and watched their duels. During his sparring time with Sif, he sometimes would catch her in a motion that looked like she wiped away a tear.  One day Ciaran stopped reacting at all. She was just sitting there, staring into nothingness, didn’t seem to hear anything Ornstein said to her. She also looked a lot thinner and run-down. He really hoped that she would get better at the next visit. The day of the next visit came and Ornstein immediately knew something was off, when he saw Sif lying there, ears drooping down. He was at the side of the animal in a flash, checking for injuries, but the wolf seemed to be fine. But then... it had to be Ciaran. He dashed behind the grave to her usual spot and spotted a horrific sight. Blood splattered on the ground and her clothes, Ciaran was dead with a sliced open throat. The dagger in her hand heavily implied that she took her life of her own free will. Why would she do this? No, this was the wrong question.. Why hadn’t he seen that coming? The signs had been all there. He failed to notice them. He could have helped her out of this, but he failed. His chest tightened. He felt like he was about to scream.  But then he felt some warm fur at this side. Sif. He simply stood there for a while, silent, just hugging the leg of the giant wolf. They both had lost another companion. They both felt the same pain. And Ciaran had felt his pain too. She had loved Artorias. It had simply become unbearable for her to live in a world without him. After a while, Ornstein let go and took a closer look at Ciaran. She was wearing her hornet ring and the cut was masterfully done. It was kind of impressive that even in ending her own life she didn’t make a single mistake.  Ornstein considered for a moment what to do with her corpse. But in the end, he decided to leave her be. Ciaran had refused to move from this spot for many many years. She would have liked to stay. Ornstein decided to respect her wishes and leave her be.  Now.. he was the last of the knights of Gwyn. He turned around, gave Sif a pat and returned to his duties in Anor Londo. He would stay a knight, especially in honour of his fallen comrades, until he would take his last breath.

[mondartmusen]

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Under the cut!!

I’d had a few thoughts, so I’ll just go list them off in no specific order!Starting off, I think it’d be really cool if Caster!Irisviel and Lucius met in the Grand Order context- Or, maybe even met again. Caster would definitely recognize Lucius, at least in form, on account of her having been Saber’s proxy Master in Fate/Zero and all! Even if the version of King Arthur that she and Kiritsugu summoned in their Grail War wasn’t her, Irisviel would still know who she was from her interactions with her version of Saber and from being an extension of the Grail- And, regardless of if it were the version she knew or not, Irisviel would definitely still want to talk to and momfriend befriend Lucius. Her memories of Artoria make her partial to all the variants, so even if they weren’t the same, she’d be incredibly insistent on knowing all about this version of Arthur.There’s also the possibility that they did know each other, with Lucius having been the King Arthur Iri and Kerry summoned for their Grail War- Which would already give a basis for them to interact in the context of Fate/Zero, and then open up even more possibilities for them to talk in Grand Order! Even if her Saber didn’t remember her, Caster would still have all her memories of the Grail War, so on top of her already super perceptive and empathetic nature, she’d be even better at picking up on Lucius’ moods and talking to her.

Another thought I’d had was about with my other Arthurian muses, because man, I’ll never be able to get enough Arthurian interactions. I haven’t really used Pellinore yet, but I think it’d be great to see him and Lucius meet up. He’d be quite excited to see Arthur again- Though she was definitely fully settled into her position as King when he died, he didn’t personally live to see her greater expansion of the Kingdom and how she ended up ruling, so he really remembers her far more as the ‘Little King’ (though it’s ‘little’ in an affectionate sense and not a contemptuous one) that he very nearly accidentally killed than as the great Once and Future King (though he does and would still respect her, to be clear.) There’s quite a fun contrast between them as Kings, with Lucius’ very reserved, severe and formal presentation of herself, while Pellinore is exceptionally casual and unrestrained, being totally open and friendly to practically everyone. On top of all that, he doesn’t know entirely what happened to Camelot in his absence- Of course, he knows the basics, because of the contextual information the Grail will provide servants, but he really doesn’t know the specifics, so Pellinore would be quite likely to question her on the matter and maybe even call out or challenge the decisions she made in the past.

Lastly, a thing I’d love is having Lucius and Galahad meet and talk about all the stuff that went down in Camelot- Or, more likely, have Galahad probably continually try and fail to coax their King into having an honest, emotional conversation about her experiences and how she felt, back then. Galahad’s an utterly devoted momfriend, and despite being quite a bit younger than Arthur and being of a lower position as a Knight instead of a King or similar nobility, they feel a great deal of responsibility and investment in the lives of others, especially their comrades and allies from the Round Table. They’re not one to question; Being Lawful Good, Galahad is a real rule follower, someone that doesn’t challenge authority- But that Good aspect of their nature makes it impossible for them not to empathize deeply and hold a great amount of concern and worry for others. Knowing Camelot did not last, they’d, of course, fret over Lucius wellbeing, over the toll that such a thing took on her. They live to ease the pain of others, to help them heal and move on- It’d distress Galahad quite a lot to consider the burden of Kingship as it’d have weighed on Arthur, and they’d very desperately seek to try and lessen that weight in any manner possible, even if it were only ever in vain. Patience and purity are their virtues, and there’s no one Galahad thinks is undeserving of compassion and empathy- Especially not the King who they’ll ever admire.