#trying to get ornstein's soul is funny because during the whole thing it feels like you're fighting him alone?

[fluffypichu876]

ornstein being the most graceful yet jankiest boss ever lol

[intakeofbreath]

Details (Chapter 7)

Fandom: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Lord's Blade Ciaran & Dragon Slayer Ornstein, The Nameless King/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Artorias the Abysswalker/Lord's Blade Ciaran Additional Tags: Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol, Vomiting, Tags May Change Summary: Secrets can also be told by corporal language and Ciaran is too good at reading it.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427736/chapters/58109368

AO3 link to first chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427736/chapters/56150551

“I think I’m going crazy. I don’t know why I even listen to you in first place.” Ornstein voice came out as a whine.

He was laying splattered on Ciaran’s bed, covered with a heavy blanket although the room was starting to get warm thanks to the fireplace they littled a hour ago to endure the winter days of Anor Londo.

Ciaran was sitting on the frame of her window, also covered with a blanket, and reading a book deeply absorbed by it. After hearing Ornstein’s voice, she hummed and briefly raised her eyes from the words without paying too much attention to him. “Weren’t you going to take a nap?”

Ornstein let out a sigh and mumbled, “I just couldn’t sleep...”

It had been the weirdest and most stressful month Ornstein had ever had in his life. First, he spent every day training that damned knights of Osmela and just the thought of them made him grunt and writhe with disgust. They were nothing compared to their Silver Knights, who were so respectful, hard-working and prone to learn. No, they were the completely opposite and they sure got on his nerves more than once since the first day they put a foot on the training field. 

No wonder they were at the very verge of losing a war if they took so lightly the commands from their captains. Goddamned, even them seemed like they didn’t hold any authority upon their knights!

Ornstein didn’t know how he ended up forcing some respect upon them, but he recalled he kicked many of their asses clouded by anger, and they were far less than the amount he actually wanted to kick. Not like he was proud of it and neither used to resort to that kind of behavior towards his knights, but, god, he reached a point where he didn’t know what else he had to do with them anymore.

Secondly, and out of nowhere, Artorias started to avoid him too and weirdly act around him. He just walked off wherever they happened to be on the same room and he just stopped meeting him between their shifts to chat for a while. Ornstein knew their meets weren’t arranged at all, they just came across each other because their paths crossed, but that only served to create a weird feeling on him. Why he was avoiding him? Surely, that didn’t made Ornstein sad like Ciaran was, but oh, he was starting to get really pissed off.

And last but not least, for some unknown reasons, Prince Gwynsen started to need him more around him, even to do errands he always has done by himself. In fact, he didn’t complain, he was always glad to be able to serve him, but it was the worse moment to start demanding so many things of him. And if he wasn’t training knights, he was running behind the Prince every minute he was awake. 

It was awfully exhausting. So, if before Osmela Knights came Ornstein barely has free time, during the last month he didn’t have time to breath or even blink. And when the knights finally left for good, leaving Ornstein at the very verge of a mental breakdown, Ciaran successfully convinced him to go on leave, though the urge to get things done didn’t stop chasing him.

Ornstein groaned, sitting with his legs folded on the bed. “I shouldn’t have took a week off. This was such a stupid idea!”

Ciaran was on leave too, because knowing the bundle of nerves her friend was, it was better to kept him company and prevent him to run back to Lord Gwyn and renounce his days off after being one hour without anything to do. So far, it was working, but the only drawback was hearing him whine almost every minute.

“How about you do something more interesting than laying in my bed?” She said, turning a page without looking at him.

“Any thoughts?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you start painting again? You can use the paper and ink from my desk.”

Ornstein looked at the furniture with a long face and, after a couple of seconds, dismissed the idea with a noise. “I don’t feel like it.”

Ciaran let out a sigh, rolling her eyes and resuming her reading, but just when she turned another page, her face lit up with a new idea, “Wait, I know the perfect thing you can do!” He gave her a lazy sideway look, and when Ornstein saw that Ciaran had that smirk on her face, he knew that whatever she was going to say next it was far from perfect. 

Quickly, she rushed to his side and started to push him out of the bed. “Go grab your coat.”

“Why?” He asked, grimacing.

But Ciaran just kept pulling him through the room by his arm, until she opened the door and widely smiled at him. “We are going to the market.”

And just like that, they headed off the castle.

At first, Ornstein thought Ciaran was referring to the highest part of the city, which was full of elegant shops, not so far of the castle and where many servants stopped by to do their God’s errands. But no, an hour’s walk later confirmed him the contrary when they both reached the lower part of the city, walking past people far away form the divine in a noisy street full of shops with a cold weather that didn’t invite at all to be outside.

Ornstein looked down to Ciaran, who happened to be enjoying the walk way too much, looking around with excitement, and asked her, “So, where are we going to?”

Ciaran looked up at his clearly uncomfortable expression for being surrounded by a lot of people, and smiled, “I want to buy a book.”

Ornstein hummed, “Don’t you have plenty of them already?”

“Not this one! Besides, what is the problem of having new books?”

“Well, you still have a huge pile of unread books and you are supposed to read them first!”

Suddenly, Ciaran grabbed him by his arm and pointed to a bookshop. It looked very old from the outside, with a wood sign, where you could read the name of the shop, hanged on top of the door. And when they crossed it, they were welcomed by the heavy smell of old wood. It was so strong that Ciaran sneezed multiple times and Ornstein felt the urge to clear his throat. There were several shelves stacked up with books, books piled up on the floor, on desks and on a counter. Behind it, a young man with a weird hat was seated reading a book, and after hearing the jingling of the door, he raised his gaze with a kind smile.

He greeted them and asked if they needed help. After that, Ciaran approached him and started to ask him about the book she needed. Ornstein, meanwhile, started to wander between the shelves, curiosity growing though he wasn’t an avid reader as much as Ciaran or Artorias were.

Ornstein noticed the books weren’t classified with any criteria, they were just placed on the shelves carelessly, and a lot of them looked like they have seen better times. He passed his finger over the spine of the books, skimming through the titles, on the background he could heard the muffled voices of Ciaran and the bookseller. Their searching appeared to take longer than needed, so Ornstein started to pick up random books and skim through the pages, and after a while, he was taken aback when one of the books turned out to be about Lordran’s history.

Now, with his curiosity picked, he flipped the pages until he reached where the Dragon War was mentioned, greeted by an ink drawing of the Lords. Unconsciously, he held his breath for a second, admiring how magnificent they were portrayed even on paper, including that treacherous dragon. He only stopped when a title caught his attention to briefly read the explanation written down, most of the time wrinkling his nose slightly annoyed because the book wasn’t telling what really had happened back there. 

Suddenly, a drawing of the Knights of Gwyn caught his attention, and Ornstein knitted his eyebrows, humming surprised, because he have been... drawed significantly shorter than Artorias. And that was completely inaccurate! He wasn’t that short, just a few centimeters shorter than him, but not a whole head!

“What are you reading?” Ciaran’s voice startled him, and Ornstein jumped, closing the book abruptly and returning it back on his place. 

“Nothing, just a stupid book…” She arched an eyebrow, humming appreciatively. “Did you find what you needed?”

“Yes!” She showed him a cooking book and he raised his eyebrows.

“So you didn’t give up.”

“Of course not! I found it quite funny actually. Gough’s recipes helped me a lot to learn, but I don’t want to ask him for recipes every time I want to do something new, so… Oh! I could cook you something tomorrow!”

“If it won’t poison me, I don’t mind to try it…”

Ornstein giggled when Ciaran playfully pushed him, and then, they left the shop. Once they started to walk down the street, Ciaran searched inside the bag she has brought with her.

“By the way,” pulling out a book, she continued, “I bought this for you, now you can have something to do and not spent all the day whining about being bored in my bedroom.”

Ornstein gave her a questioning glance, grabbing the book from her hands and scanning the cover, though the title said nothing about the content of the book.

“Oath? What is this about?”

Ciaran giggled, looking at him mischievously. “Oh, you know... It’s just a story about a secret passionate and torrid romance between a princess and her faithful knight,” she said, entonning every word with a fervil energy. “The bookseller told me that it’s a very popular book right now.”

Ornstein’s expression fell off, completely white, but then his lips parted with a nervous smile. “No, you are just teasing me. I don’t believe you, you have to be kidding.”

“Well, you can confirm it by yourself,” she said, giving him a signal with her hand to go on.

Ornstein knitted his eyebrows, insecure, and opened the book by half to start reading. 

With every passing word he read, his face blushed harder and harder, after he abruptly closed the book and looked bewildered at Ciaran, who let out a loud laugh.

“Why the fuck did you buy me this?! Have you opened and read it?! This… This is totally blasphemous and improper!” Ornstein was stumbling on his words, and looked like he needed to remember how to breath. He had spoken in a higher tone than expected, causing a couple of people to turn and look at him. 

Ciaran whipped some tears out of her eyes, and needed a couple of seconds to regain her breath before grabbing the book from his hands and read the page he was on. “Aw, you opened the book where they fuck, I’m sure you have ruined the story for yourself.” Then, she let out a whistle and murmured, “Damn, this is really explicit… Maybe I should borrow this in the future...”

Ornstein loudly grunted, wanting to throw that damn book away and kick Ciaran’s ass with all the force he had.

“Don’t take it too serious, Ornstein, it’s just fiction!” Ciaran said between giggles. “Is not like it could happen in reality, isn’t it?”

He let out a strangled suffering noise from the deepest of his throat, which only made Ciaran start to laugh again. 

“Oh, for the Lords, it’s so easy to mess with you!”

Ornstein narrowed his eyes to her, denying with his head and grimacing. “Your humour is the worst...”

“Aw, come on, but look at how cute you look, all red and flustered.” She reached her hand up to pinch his red cheek, but it was quickly pushed aside, though the shadow of a smile could be started to be seen on his lips.

“You are unbearable, do you know that? No wonder Artorias doesn’t want to be near you, with all that damn teasing of yours.”

“Excuse you?!” Ciaran made an exaggerated gesture, bringing her hand to her chest and gasping, to seem like she was really hurted.

Ornstein expression fell off after noticing what he had just said. “Oh my Lord, I’m so so sorry, Ciaran, I didn’t mean to-” He shut up when she puffed, pushing him by his arm. 

“I know Ornstein! I got it was a joke, don’t worry!” Ciaran reassured him with a soft laugh. “Let’s kept going, all right? I need to visit other shops.” 

He looked down at her and, for a moment, he felt really dumb, but Ciaran didn’t pay much attention to him, and kept walking with the book back in her bag.

They spent the next hours visiting clothing stores and an antique shop, just because Ciaran saw a figure that reminded one that her mother owned years ago at her first home. When they finished, it was starting to get dark, and they were very tired from the walk. Both, Ciaran and Ornstein, thought they wouldn’t be on time to attend the dinner and decided to stop by a tavern and order some food. 

Surprisingly, after they have eaten half of their food, Ciaran ordered a bottle of ale and Ornstein arched an questioning eyebrow at her. “Why? You don’t usually like to drink.”

Ciaran shrugged with a smile. “Why not? We’ve earned it.” 

She grabbed the bottle and poured the drink in their glasses and then, pointed the mouth of the bottle to Ornstein. “We’ve spent many days sad because of some damn idiots.” He opened his mouth to punctuate that, in fact, Prince Gwynsen was not an idiot, but Ciaran didn’t let him the time, “It’s time for us, my friend, that we have some fun for once.”

And they started drinking, and Ciaran forgot that Ornstein had no control over the alcohol, and when she should have stopped him from drinking most of the content of the several bottles they ordered, she was far way too tipsy to care about it.

They didn’t know how they got to the castle’s door and passed through the poor guards keeping everybody outside. Maybe Ciaran threatened them, or was it Ornstein? Either way, they stumbled over their feets multiple times through every corridor they went through, grabbing onto each other and laughing loudly with almost every word they let out. But until Ciaran didn’t abruptly stop, causing Ornstein to collide with her back, they didn’t shut up their mouths. 

Ornstein looked where Ciaran had her gaze fixated and suddenly felt like he was floating on a cloud just by looking at his beautiful Prince. He was standing right besides Artorias, who, for once, wasn’t covering his face with his helmet. They could see the quickly movement of their eyes, switching between them and Ornstein’s coat over Ciaran’s shoulders, and their weird expressions that Ornstein didn’t bother to decipher. 

Then, suddenly, the Prince moved quickly to Ornstein’s side with a frown on his face and placed a hand on his jaw to lift his face. The knight just gave him a goofy smile. 

“What the hell happened to you?” he snarled, and briefly looked angrily at Ciaran. “You have blood on your face.”

Ornstein reached a hand to touch it and when his fingers brushed against his nose, he took a sharp breath. “Ah… Probably I fell in some stairs?” He carried every word, and letting out a giggle he continued, “I don’t remember very well, my apologies, my highness.”

Gwynsen arched an eyebrow after hearing my . “Are you drunk?”

Once again, Ornstein giggled, tilting his head. “No... Well, just... A little.”

The prince sighed, letting him go, and before he could say anything else, Ciaran started to angrily speak behind them.

“You, asshole!” Ciaran was trying to hit him again square on the chest at the same time she tried to not be grabbed by a nervous Artorias. “You don’t speak with me for weeks and now you say you are worried about me?! What do you think I am? A fool?!”

Artorias finally grabbed her wrists but she started to shake them with all the force she could came up with on her drunkenly state. “Don’t touch me!”

“Ah… Ciaran, please don’t scream.” Artorias looked really overwhelmed.

Ornstein stepped away from the Prince’s reach and walked to Artorias with an angry face. After noticing that, the wolf knight raised his eyebrows in a plea to Ornstein. “Oh, please, don’t hit me you too...” 

But his friend only touched his chest with his index finder, making him flinch, though when nobody was punched, Artorias let out a relieved sigh.

“Yeah... She’s damn right, you are an asshole. Don’t you have a heart?” Ornstein was tapping his chest with his finger repeatedly. “Have you no consideration nor even thought about what she may be feeling? I’m very disappointed at you… I mean, you can ignore me as much as you like, but her?!”

Ornstein raised his voice when he said the last question, pointing with his other hand at Ciaran, who hardly kicked Artorias’ leg, full of angry, breaking her free. He grunted in pain and looked with a plea at the Prince, who finally stepped between the three knights and put Ornstein aside, grabbing him by his arm and shoulder.

“That was fantastic, Ornstein, I’m sure he has learnt his lesson and will stop his dumb behaviour and apologize with Ciaran, right, Artorias?” The Prince accentuated the question, giving him a sideway look. 

Artorias nooded rapidly, avoiding to look at Ornstein or Ciaran, but that was enough to  satisfy Ornstein, who hummed contently and returned to dreamily gaze up at the face of Gwynsen.

“Let’s get you to your room and leave them alone to clear up their problems,” continued the Prince, placing a hand on Ornstein’s upper back to guide him.

“As you like, my highness.”

“Wait, Ornstein,” called Ciaran, opening her bag and handling him the book. “Mmm… Don’t forget your things.”

“Thank you very much!” Ornstein lengthen the words with a smile, extending his arm to grab it from her.

In the time the book was passed from hand to hand, Artorias and Gwynsen had the chance to look at the cover and recognize the title. Artorias opened his mouth, repressing a gasp in his throat, and both of them looked at each other with their eyebrows raised with astonishment.