Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“ Are you cold, Lothric?”

The answer was yes—the answer was obviously yes—but the shivering child shook his head against Lorian’s shoulder and tightened his arms around his neck. “ No, brother…I am fine. We can keep going.”

For a moment, Lorian considered his options, shrugging Lothric into a more comfortable position on his shoulders as he surveyed the landscape. It was white, completely white; the elder prince had been slogging through at least one foot of snow for the entirety of the day, maybe two at times, and large snowflakes continued to fall slowly, yet consistently, from the sky. It was nighttime, but it was strange; though the sun should have risen or set by then, it continued to be a clear, midnight blue sky dotted with clouds and sprinkled with stars. A half-moon hung stalwart in the sky, larger than Lorian had ever seen in the skies of Lothric, and the sight had entranced even his little brother for the first hour of their journey.

“ I have never seen a moon so big and bright,” he’d whispered, craning his neck so far up that Lorian was afraid it would get cricked. “ It is so beautiful. I like it better than the sun, I think.”

“ You only say that because you burn easily,” Lorian teased, and Lothric huffed in mock annoyance, shuffling a little further up Lorian’s back so as to get a better look at the eternally twilit sky.

However, that had been several hours ago (how long had he been walking? Two hours? Three? It was hard to tell the passing of time when the sky never changed), long enough for their surroundings to have completely changed, shifting from mountainous terrain to a valley gated by snowy peaks and dotted with numerous pine trees. Lothric had started shivering long ago, despite Lorian having wrapped his little brother in two thick blankets on top of the gods-awful prayer garb the clerics had forced him to wear. The elder prince had been reluctant to stop so soon. Oceiros was surely scouring the entirety of the kingdom for them, and though Lothric and Lorian had at least a day’s worth of a head start, it didn’t hurt to be cautious given the frothing fanaticism of their father.

Though Lorian’s heart ached at Lothric’s palpable exhaustion and discomfort, he knew that he had to keep moving in order to keep them safe, and Lothric—despite his young age—seemed to know this as well.  He had been chatty at first, telling Lorian little anecdotes from his lessons with the priests, and stories he’d read in the library, but he’d fallen silent when his shivering spread to his voice. Instead of asking Lorian to stop, the eight-year-old simply clung tighter to his brother, seeking out whatever body warmth he could find. Oh, if only Lorian hadn’t been wearing his suit of armor! The cold metal must have been miserable against his brother’s thin frame.

Lorian himself was beginning to feel the strain of the journey. His legs were aching from hiking through the snow for hours upon hours and, though his eyesight had held up admirably at the beginning of their journey, his vision was beginning to blur in the distance. A brief rest would do them both a great deal of good, he decided, and he quickly scanned for a safe place to rest. A cave carved into the nearby mountain caught his eye, and he once again shrugged Lothric into a more comfortable position before trudging his way towards the opening.

“ There is an outcropping over there. We can gather our strength before setting out again.”

Lothric lifted his head up from where it was buried in the warmth of Lorian’s neck and blinked owlishly. “ Is it safe for us to stop?”

“ We are well on our way to Irithyll, and I made sure that Father wouldn’t discover our absence for at least a day, maybe two. A few moments of respite won’t jeopardize us.”

Being out of the wind—as gentle as it had been thus far—was no small relief, and Lorian immediately settled Lothric against the wall of the cave and moved to unsheathe his sword. Having a weapon singed with the Chaos Flame offered many fringe benefits; instead of having to make and tend to a fire, Lorian simply slammed the blade into the frozen ground beneath them. The small, barren space warmed almost instantly, and Lothric sighed in relief as he inched closer to their makeshift hearth.

“ Do you think Mother misses us?” the younger prince whispered, holding his hands close to the sword to warm them up. “ Surely she will have noticed we are gone by now, just like Father.”

“ Does it matter?” The words came out far more bitter than Lorian would have liked, but he was far too tired and mentally strained to care, so he simply sighed and slid down the cave wall to sit at Lothric’s side.

It did not matter to Lorian that their mother would be affected by their absence, and he highly doubted that she cared much beyond the loss of her "prized demonslayer son" and the future Lord of Cinder. When it had just been Lorian in the household, his mother had at least made an attempt to be an active parent, though she'd showed no interest in pushing Lorian to do anything other than fight and bleed for the royal family. Then Lothric had been born and, while Lorian did not fault their mother for the incomprehensible physical and mental trauma she experienced from Oceiros’ foul experimentation during the entirety of her pregnancy, it remained a fact that she’d been absent at best from Lothric’s life from the moment he entered the world. The birth had transformed her into a pale figure that glided in and out of rooms like smoke in the wind; and though Lorian had pled with her in the beginning to help him take care of his little brother (because Oceiros clearly cared more for the concept of Lothric than the child himself), he eventually stopped asking, as the only answer he would receive was a blank stare.

No, though his thoughts could turn bitter at times, Lorian did not resent his mother for being traumatized by Lothric’s conception and birth, nor did he resent having to all but single-handedly raise Lothric, in the slightest. How could he ever resent the best thing that had ever happened to him? Deemed only good for fighting by his parents and advisors, Lorian had once lived only to obtain glory and protect his people, hoping to live up to his parents’ limited expectations and become a crown prince worthy of the kingdom. His father’s announcement that the queen was pregnant with the true heir to the throne wounded Lorian far more grievously than any battlefield injury and, as shameful as it was, he had been bitterly angry at that small, growing life in his mother’s womb. When it came time for the queen to give birth, Lorian made up every excuse to be away on a skirmish, not wanting to witness everyone in the kingdom celebrating his new irrelevance to the royal family.

Oh, how quickly his feelings had changed when he had returned to the castle the night of Lothric’s birth, with blood-spattered armor and soot smeared across his cheeks. Despite Oceiros’s crowing for weeks in advance of the celebration he’d planned for the arrival of the true heir, the castle grounds were strangely quiet, and Lorian briefly wondered if the child had been stillborn. It was a theory disproven the moment the elder prince stepped into the residential wing, where a tiny, warbling, frantic wail grabbed hold of his heartstrings and all but pulled him down the hall to the nursery.

Upon arrival, he found Emma rocking the smallest bundle he’d ever seen in her arms, flanked by four other nursemaids who were doing little more than wringing their hands in consternation. The High Priestess’s face bore an expression of fatigue he usually saw in his soldiers after a grueling battle, and the younger handmaids had tears in their eyes, all of which told Lorian that the little prince had been inconsolable for quite some time.

“ Your Highness! You’ve returned much sooner than expected!” Emma turned to face him, and curtsied as best as she could while holding an infant. She said something after that but Lorian didn’t hear a word of it, far too transfixed by the tiny creature swaddled in black, gold-embroidered, cloth to pay her the slightest bit of attention.

Lorian knew he would never forget seeing Lothric for the first time. He had been so very small and so very frail, with thin limbs and even thinner fingers, and his bones were so delicate that the elder prince had been afraid he’d break them if he held the boy too tightly. His skin was pale and thin to the point of near-translucency, and small, silver scales were dotted all over his shoulders and neck. Though the infant had clearly been crying for quite some time, his cheeks held not a trace of ruddiness, and the blue tinge to his lips was a foreboding omen.

“ May I hold him?” The words spilled out of Lorian’s lips before he truly registered them. Without waiting for the High Priestess’s answer, he stripped off his gauntlets and all but threw them to the floor in his haste, ignoring the wide-eyed ogling of the younger women as he held out his arms with an eagerness that blindsided him.

The moment Lothric was placed into Lorian’s arms, two things occurred simultaneously: the little prince nigh-immediately stopped crying, his screaming fading into the occasional soft sob and sniffling hiccup within seconds; and Lorian was overwhelmed by a wave of love so powerful and all-encompassing that it weakened his knees and brought tears to his eyes.

“ He is perfect .” Lorian’s voice was filled with the tenderness that had ensnared him body and soul. Ignoring the utterly flummoxed looks on Emma and the handmaidens’ faces, he moved to cradle his little brother in one arm so he could stroke his head with the other, marveling at the softness of the platinum blonde hair against his calloused fingertips. “ What is his name?”

It took Emma a few attempts to find her voice. “ The king decided it would be Lothric, after the kingdom that he…he will one day rule.”

Emma’s voice was hesitant—knowing full well how displeased Lorian had been with Oceiros’ decision—but the elder prince found that he could no longer remember what he had been so angry about.

“ Lothric.” Lorian breathed. Said child squirmed at the sound of his own name, his bright blue eyes opening for the first time to stare up at his elder brother, who greeted him with a smile so wide that it threatened to split his cheeks open.

“ From this day onward, I—Lorian of the kingdom that shares your name—will be your unyielding sword. No harm shall come to you as long as I still draw breath, and though you have been born into an uncertain world, know that my love for you shall be as eternal as the cycle of flame and dark.” It was a solemn oath—made as much as a knight as an elder brother—and Lorian sealed his vow with a kiss to the crown of Lothric’s head.

No, what his mother had given Lorian that day was a reason to live, for which he would be forever grateful. She had given him a priceless gift that day, even if he—in his childish ignorance and selfishness—had come so dangerously close to rejecting it entirely.

Though he held no ill will towards his mother, Lorian still doubted that she would  ever worry over Lothric’s disappearance past him being the future Lord of Cinder…let alone concern herself with her oldest child.

“ I suppose it doesn’t.” To Lorian’s immense relief, his little brother simply shrugged and turned his attention back to the sword, not seeming to mind his brother’s uncharacteristically jaded response. Then again, Lothric had always been far more mature and astute than many gave him credit for. “ Do you think we’ll ever go back there?”

A lead weight dropped in Lorian’s stomach. “ I honestly don’t know, baby drake. Perhaps after Father and Mother have died.”

Lothric hummed in thought as he rubbed his hands together. “ That may take a while…after all, Mother is practically a goddess in her own right, and Father may well turn himself into a dragon yet.”

“ Father’s more likely to kill himself in the attempt than actually become one.” Lorian didn’t even try to keep the venom from his words. “ As for Mother…well, we shall see, I suppose.” After all, it had been only a week beforehand that Oceiros had brought up having another child in the near future, and Lorian doubted the queen’s ability to survive another pregnancy like Lothric’s.

Strange…the thought of never seeing his mother or father again didn’t grieve Lorian in the slightest. If anything, he felt immense relief at the idea; perhaps he truly was a failure of a son.

“ Is it wrong of me to be glad that they’re gone?” It was eerie the way Lothric’s thoughts echoed his own. Clearly Lorian wasn’t the only one thinking blasphemously. “ I keep trying to feel sad…but I don’t. I think I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.”

Lorian’s lips curved into a fond smile. “ If such thoughts are wrong, then we are both terrible sons, for I feel the same way.” He held his arms open, and Lothric immediately climbed into his lap, not minding the jagged edges and uneven plating of Lorian’s armor in the slightest. “ Irithyll is supposedly the last growing kingdom in the Lordran; if the rumors are true, I believe we will be able to live a happy and comfortable life there.”

Lothric rested his cheek on Lorian’s breastplate and closed his eyes, all but melting into Lorian’s embrace. It was the only place where he’d ever truly felt safe.“ There are probably miracles and discoveries unknown to us in Irithyll. Perhaps we can find a cure for your eyesight.”

“ And perhaps a cure for your pain.” Lorian’s crown clunked against the cavern wall as he tipped his head back. “ You could wear actual clothes, and if you feel well enough, perhaps we could send you to school. You would be able to make friends at long last.”

“ If you would like.” Lothric sounded doubtful, and somewhat dismayed, at the prospect. Sometimes Lorian couldn’t help but fret over his little brother’s isolated and introverted nature. Perhaps he would be more outgoing in a positive environment. “ What will we do for money?”

“ You let me worry about that.” On top of "kidnapping" the heir to the throne and spiriting him away from the kingdom, Lorian had also stolen as many gold pieces and jewels from Oceiros’ personal collection as he could carry; he’d dropped the heavy rucksack to the ground the moment they entered the cave. Hopefully it would be more than enough to start a new life—perhaps, even, enough to live comfortably for quite some time, as long as they were frugal. “ If all else fails, I can get a job—a longshoreman, perhaps, or a laborer of some kind.”

“ Or a knight.” A playful smirk spread across Lothric’s thin lips. “ I believe you would be more than qualified for such a position, and if they ask for qualifications, you could simply show them your sword and regale them with the tale of demon fire.”

“ You flatter me, little brother. As I said, we shall see what happens when we arrive; we first have to reach the city.”

True, the thought of Lorian resuming his knightly duties had crossed his mind, but it was tampered with the new and overwhelming realization that he was now the only person Lothric had left in the world. If Lorian were to join whatever army Irithyll possessed, and then fall in battle, Lothric would be by himself in a city he barely knew; sickly, scared, and alone. Before, when he'd gone on expeditions to the Old Chaos, he had been soothed by the fact that Lothric would be safe and looked after if he perished—if not by their parents, then by the myopic but good-intentioned Emma and her contingent of handmaidens. But now…now it was just the two of them, and the idea of possibly orphaning Lothric in the future chilled him more than the frigid winds of the Boreal Valley.

No. Lorian would not become a knight. He could act as a tactician, perhaps, or even a commander…but not a foot soldier. Not anymore. Everything and nothing had changed all at once.

Lothric, mercifully, didn’t seem to recognize the morbid thoughts crawling around his brain. It was times like that when Lorian was grateful that his brother’s unnatural perception was tempered by his young age.

“ You need to stop being so humble, Lorian.” Said eight-year-old rolled his eyes before settling back against his elder brother’s chest. “ You slayed the Demon Prince all by yourself, for Heaven’s sake. You are the most fearsome and talented fighter Lothric has ever seen, and even if Father cannot see it, you are also clever, intelligent, and resourceful.”

“ And you , dear brother, are biased.” Nonetheless, Lothric’s praise—the likes of which he had never heard from his parents—warmed Lorian’s heart and dispelled the foreboding chill that had descended upon him. “ I could be the court jester and your words would be just as glowing.”

Lothric seemed offended by Lorian’s words. “ Do you think so little of me? That I would praise you if you did not deserve it?”

“ No, no, Lothric.” Lorian rubbed the child’s back in a soothing manner. “ I mean only that you love me so, and that when you love someone in such a way, you tend to view everything they do through a colored haze. I do not doubt that I am an above-average warrior, but probably not as great a one as you say.”

The younger prince seemed to consider Lorian’s words for a few seconds before huffing indignantly. “ I swear, praise and compliments bounce off of you like arrows hitting a stone wall. I am not the only one who says such things, you know; you should hear the handmaidens go on about you—”

“ As they are wont to do for any attractive knight they come across, let alone a prince—“

“— and what your own knights have to say. I have heard them laud over you many a time when you were not around to listen.”

“ Lothric, I am their Knight Commander; I believe they are required by edict to praise me.”

“ Oh, would you stop being so shamefaced already! You’re giving me a headache!”

Lorian couldn’t help but laugh at the put-out-upon look on Lothric’s face. “ Forgive me, forgive me.” He wheezed, sliding his hand under Lothric’s hood so he could ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “ You have to realize, I am still not used to compliments such as the ones you bestow upon me. I cannot help but feel somewhat… off-balance when you speak of me so.”

“ Well, it is time to start getting used to it, because I only speak the truth.” Lothric’s bluster and annoyance quickly dispelled under Lorian’s touch, and the younger prince eagerly leaned into his brother’s hair-scratching, more cat than dragon in that moment. “ ...Lorian.”

“ Yes, Lothric?”

“ Will I…will I still have to link the fire?”

Lorian prayed that his crown hid the wetness that had suddenly bloomed in his eyes. “ Only if you want to, Lothric.”

“ If I want to?”

“ Yes. Whatever you may do when you are of age, that will be your choice to make, and only your choice.” After all, that was the whole purpose of Lorian’s near-suicidal flight from the kingdom, wasn’t it? To save Lothric from a fate forced upon him. “ I will forbid it, of course, until you are an adult, but after that…some consider linking the fire to be a good and noble cause, and willingly surrender themselves to it. If you do decide to become a Lord of Cinder of your own volition, then I…I will, of course, try to talk you out of it, but I will remain by your side no matter what decision you make.”

Even if I die of heartbreak in the process.

Lothric frantically shook his head against Lorian’s chest. “ I don’t want to, Lorian.” The sounds of the wilderness around them—already muffled by snowfall—grew almost eerily silent at those whispered words. Lorian knew what a blasphemy it was to speak them—that voicing such objections in their old lives could only have led to terrible repercussions. They were as heavy as they were freeing. “ I don’t want to link the fire. I don’t want to burn. I don’t want to die. All I want is to stay with you. Is that so wrong?”

A strangled, choked sound of relief forced its way out of Lorian’s chest—a sound bordering on a sob. “ I don’t think that’s wrong at all, Lothric, because that is all I want as well.” He clutched Lothric as close as he possibly could without hurting his frail body. “ I think—and this is just from what I’ve read and heard, but I think that is all a normal person should want. I used to think that Father was right…that I was selfish in my desire to spare you from the flame, but I’m starting to think that it is Father and the priests that are wrong. Not us.”

“ Do you truly think so?” The tremulous and fragile hope in Lothric’s voice stabbed Lorian in the gut. “ I tried so hard , Lorian—I tried to be excited about linking the flame, to see it as the honor and privilege everyone else did, but it just made me scared and sad. I used to ask questions, but I would be punished when I did, so I eventually kept them inside.”

Lorian’s heart dropped. “ Oh, baby drake, how long have you been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“ Not for long.” It was a rushed, hurried, and transparent lie. “ I just…dear brother, you already worry so much about me, and I could see that discussing my future as a Lord of Cinder made you so terribly sad, and I...I did not wish to burden you more than I already have.”

“ Trouble me? Lothric…!” The alarm in Lorian’s voice echoed throughout the small cave, and Lothric flinched at the sound of it, hiding his face against Lorian’s breastplate in shame.

“ I’m sorry…” Lothric’s tiny, frightened voice made Lorian want to scream.

“ No, no, Lothric, I am not angry at you …you have nothing to be sorry for.” The elder prince gently coaxed Lothric out of hiding and stroked his face in what he hoped was a soothing manner—well, as comforting as cold, metallic fingers could be. “ I just want to know why you think you’re a burden to me. Did someone say something to you?”

Lothric tried to duck his head again, but Lorian gently took the child’s face in his hands and tilted it up to look at him. “ It’s all right, Lothric. I won’t be angry, and no one is here to punish you for saying something wrong—you can be yourself with me. Always.”

The child bit his wobbly lip ( unduly chapped , Lorian couldn’t help but note) and fussed with the fringe of his prayer robe as he waged a war within himself. Lorian simply stroked his hair and waited patiently for his brother to come to a decision. Words had been forced from his mouth his whole life, and by the Gods, Lorian would make sure his words were his own from that point on.

“…the priests and the scholars. And Father.” It took a good minute for Lothric to find his tremulous voice. “ They would say things sometimes. More often in the past year. Sometimes they knew I was listening and sometimes they didn’t.”

“ What sort of things?”

“ That you were always exhausted from caring for me. That I was holding you back from being a good commander.” Lothric seemed to fold in on himself at the admission. “ They told me how you would cry from exhaustion when I had a bout of illness and would keep you up all night…that you’d become more rebellious since my birth—even rejecting important events to care for my well-being—and it was ruining your status in the kingdom. They said I’d turned you from a fearsome demonslayer into a…a ‘wibbling wet nurse.'”

“ Did they now?” It took all of Lorian’s considerable willpower to keep his voice level, which was quite the feat, given the white-hot anger beginning to burn through his veins. “ What else?”

“ The priests would tell me that you were a ‘poor influence’ on my mental state…that you were holding me back from accepting the mindset of a true Lord of Cinder. They even tried to convince Father to take me from your room and force me to sleep in the opposite end of the castle. Father refused, but he told me that…that if things continued the way they were…that I would lead you to ruin, and I should start distancing myself from you, because I was just going to die anyways and there was no point fooling you into loving me when I was destined to burn!”

Lothric’s tremulous voice had started out weak and whispered, but as he continued to speak, his volume rose more and more, to the point where he was all but shouting by the end. Tears were flowing freely down his face, and the last recollection seemed to drain the strength from him, for the eight-year-old almost immediately collapsed against Lorian after finishing, curling in on himself and weeping.

For the first time in his life, Lorian believed he could commit murder.

“ Shhh…shhh…oh, baby drake, there is no need to cry.” Despite a rage he’d never before experienced stabbing through his veins like sewing needles, Lorian decided—as always—that his priorities lay with comforting his brother.  “ You did the right thing in telling me. You are far too young to hold such misery inside of yourself, let alone having to hear such words in the first place.” The elder prince rested his cheek on Lothric’s head as he rocked him back and forth. “ I am so sorry, Lothric…if only I had known what was going on, I could have stopped it—“

“ No, you couldn’t have!” Lothric’s voice was thick with tears and snot. “ Father always spoke about how you were testing his patience and how he may have to do something about it! He would have killed you!”

“ No, he wouldn’t have; don’t be silly.” Even as the words left his mouth, Lorian doubted them, and the cold nausea that settled in his stomach revealed the truth he could no longer deny: that his eldest prince, the one that was supposed to inherit the throne of the Kingdom of Lothric, had always been disposable to Oceiros.

Deep down, Lorian had always suspected such—even before Oceiros had announced their mother’s second pregnancy—but Lorian had always hoped that he could earn Oceiros’s love and respect with hard work and perseverance. He had commanded armies, rode with the dragonriders into battle, and slew demons the like of which mortal men could barely comprehend. Yet as much as he enjoyed being a commander and serving his people, he had always secretly hoped that one more victory, one more battle scar, one more Heir of Chaos vanquished, would finally move Oceiros to feel proud of him.

Even after Lothric was born, Lorian had held onto that hope, and he had been so sure after he’d slain the Demon Prince that Oceiros would finally see his worth. Yet when he had returned to the kingdom—limping with a wound that took a month to heal fully, exhausted, and brandishing a sword forever scoured with the Chaos Flame—Oceiros only had stock congratulations to offer; in private, he was as cold and distant as ever. Now Lorian realized that nothing he could have done would have been enough because, from the start, Oceiros had seen him as a failure on the path to achieving his true goal: producing an ideal, and immortal, all-powerful heir of Lothric. He held no special powers and, though he would inevitably live far longer than most men due to the godly blood that ran through his veins, he had far from the sterile longevity of dragons. He was solid, sturdy, and painfully average. Oceiros had no room for average in his goals.

In fact, Lorian realized with a sickening lurch, their father rejecting the suggestion to move Lothric to his own room and out of Lorian’s had not been out of generosity or some faint compassion in his heart. Though the king loved having an actual "child of dragons" at long last, his foul and unethical experimentation had produced a weak and high-maintenance infant, who had needed constant attention from the moment of his birth. He would not have died from neglect, true, but every child needed love and care to thrive. Yet Oceiros was more interested in the final result of his experiment than actually dealing with the consequences, and the handmaidens and High Priestess had never dealt with a chronically ill child such as Lothric before. With their mother too withered physically and emotionally to take up the banner, it had been Lorian who had put down his sword and become his younger brother’s primary caretaker, which he had done willingly and with an eager and loving heart. It had not been an easy road in any way, shape, or form, but Lorian treasured every moment he spent with his little brother, and he cared for him without complaint and with nigh-boundless patience.

Oh, yes! How convenient, Lorian now saw, that Oceiros had found someone to shoulder the burden of Lothric’s existence! Now he was free to devote the entirety of his focus to the teachings of Seath the Paledrake, and planning Lothric’s "ascension" to a Lord of Cinder, instead of having to spend his energy on the messy aftermath of his decisions. Though Lorian had been a disappointment from the moment of his birth, the king had gotten an agreeable nursemaid out of his eldest child, and Lorian’s usefulness was entirely tied to keeping Lothric alive until the moment of his linking. In fact, not only had Lorian been used to raise Lothric when no one else would or could, but he had been used to keep the younger prince in line! It was now frighteningly clear that the priests, and their father, had used Lorian as a bargaining chip to make Lothric do whatever they wanted. Study hard, or you will not be able to see Lorian once he returns to the kingdom. Embrace your future as Lord of Cinder, or you will be moved out of your brother’s room and into your own, far away from the only true parent you’ve ever had. Suffer silently like a good and pious little lord, or you are sinful and ungrateful, and you will be taken away from Lorian for good.

No, Lothric hadn’t been named after the kingdom because he was the future ruler; he had been named Lothric because he was never meant to be a human being, only a symbol—a means to an end that only existed to propel the land and the Consumed King to eternal glory. Lothric was meant to be a concept, a tool, but never an individual.

By the gods, Lorian’s heart screamed in anguish, we were never children to Oceiros—only stepping-stones!

While Lorian grew more internally distressed at his most recent revelation, Lothric began to calm under his elder brother’s gentle ministrations, his sobbing giving way to quiet sniffling. He sat up just enough to wipe his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his prayer robe, and Lorian—snapping out of his haunted thoughts at this action—immediately batted Lothric’s hand away from his face and grabbed the corner of one of the softer blankets wrapped around his frail form.

“ I can do it myself, Lorian,” Lothric grumbled.

“ Not with that Chaos-damned outfit of yours, you’re not; your skin is far too tender to rub it with cloth that rough.” Lorian gently dabbed away the wetness from Lothric’s eyes while ignoring the eye-roll he received in return. “ Once we get you proper clothing, you can rub your face as much as you want, but I wish you would hold off until that day comes.”

“ I will do my best, Lorian,” Lothric relented with a huff. Lorian gave him a sympathetic pat on the head.

“ You always do, Lothric. You always do.” He gave Lothric’s nose a quick poke and smiled at the unwilling giggle it elicited. “ Now, no more worrying about the priests and Father, all right? Where you and I are going, we will never have to concern ourselves with them again; they will hold no power over us in Irithyll.”

Lothric peered curiously up at him. “ Are you sure? Father is… determined. ”

“ That he is, but not even Father’s fanaticism can help him locate a city shielded by the last True God in the Lordran.” Just to make sure, Lorian took a moment to dip his fingers underneath the armor at his neck, sagging in relief once his bronze talons touched the talisman hanging from its chain. “ We can , however, so we have more than outplayed him at this point.”

“ Finally beating Father…that sounds nice.” Lothric yawned, drained from his emotional outburst and their long journey, and curled up against Lorian’s chest. “ Dear brother, do you mind…?”

Lorian finished his thought for him. “ Take your rest, Lothric. I will keep you safe.” He curled his hands protectively over Lothric’s thin body, remembering how his little brother had once been tiny enough to neatly fit into both of his palms put together. How he had grown!

“ But what about you? You should rest as well…”

“ It is never wise for two parties to sleep at the same time when travelling through the cold, even with the eternal warmth of my sword.” The knight ran his hand down the child’s back. “ Tell you what—after you wake up, I can take a nap, and you can keep watch and wake me if something happens. All right?”

Lothric, already too tired to keep his eyes open, simply nodded against Lorian’s chest plate. He was asleep within seconds, face and rest seemingly peaceful for once (always a mercy for a child plagued with asthmatic lungs and chronic pain), and Lorian bent over to kiss the top of his head.

“ Sleep well, dear brother…we have only a little farther to go before we’re free.”

“ We will be going away, baby drake.”

Lorian was brushing Lothric’s hair after his bath—a cherished nighttime ritual for them both—so the little boy remained still and relaxed in his brother’s hold, though his voice belied his curiosity. “ Away? A diplomatic visit?”

“ No, Lothric.” Lorian gently teased a rat’s nest out of that damp platinum blond hair, careful to avoid any unnecessary tugging at his brother’s scalp; it was so very tender—much like the rest of his skin. “ You and I will be leaving the kingdom for good.”

It was clear that Lothric was confused, but he waited until Lorian had finished brushing his hair before speaking up, turning in his elder brother’s lap to look up at him. “ Lorian, I don’t understand…what are you trying to say?”

Lorian set the brush on the nightstand and sighed. “ Lothric, if we were to leave the kingdom behind forever—to forsake our royal titles and all of our duties—and go live somewhere where Father could never find us, how would you feel?”

Lothric frowned and fidgeted his hands together nervously. “ I…I do not know. Does such a place truly exist?”

“ Yes, Lothric.” Lorian smoothed the child’s damp hair with his hands. “ You know the stories Lady Sirris tells you—of Irithyll, the land of the Nameless Moon?” The younger prince nodded. “ Well, she has given me a map, dear brother—a map that will allow us to find Irithyll ourselves. So we will be departing for the Boreal Valley in three days time.”

“ And…and we will be staying there? Forever?”

“ Perhaps not forever, but as long as it takes for Father to pass on…that, or to stop hunting for us.”

The child gnawed nervously on his lower lip. “ Father and Mother will not know we are leaving?”

“ No, baby drake.” Lorian gently cupped Lothric’s face in his hands and stroked his brother’s sallow cheek with his thumb. “ I know this is terribly sudden, Lothric, but you and I…we cannot stay here. There is no happiness to be found in this castle, no joy, no life, and that is no way for you to live. Father grows more erratic and irrational by the day, and Mother is growing violent; I fear for your safety if things continue the way they are. If we go to live in Irithyll, though, we will be able to live normal lives. You can wear normal clothing, go to school, eat all of the foods that the priests say you cannot, and play with other children…all of the things you cannot do here. We can be happy there.”

“ We will not be princes anymore, then.”

“ No—to do this, we have to leave behind everything we have ever known. We will have no more titles, no more servants, and no more duties. We will become commoners, but we will be free, Lothric—free to decide who we want to be and what we wish to do!” Lorian grabbed Lothric’s little hands in his own and held them tight. "You will no longer have Father or the priests and scholars ordering you around and making your every decision. It will be scary, and very hard at times, but so are all things worth fighting for! I only ask that you trust me—trust your elder brother to do what is best for you…best for us.”

Lothric stared at Lorian for a long moment before turning his gaze down to their conjoined hands.

“ I will not become king, then.”

“ No.”

“ And you will no longer be Knight Commander.”

“ Correct.”

“ And we…we will be unable to bring anything with us, correct?”

“ We can take some things with us, but not much—only what we can carry.”

“ We will never see Mother and Father again.”

Lorian’s eyes grew hot. “ No, most likely not.”

“ Ah.”

Lothric was silent for a few seconds. Then, he slipped his hands out of Lorian’s own and moved to wrap his arms around his elder brother’s middle, pressing his face into Lorian’s nightshirt. Wetness bled through the thin cotton fabric.

“ Oh, I don’t care, Lorian!” Lothric’s voice was muffled and wavering. His bony shoulders trembled underneath his robe. “ Wherever we go, whatever we do, I will be alright as long as I am with you! I don’t care about being a prince or a king or a Lord of Cinder…all I want is for us to be together! So I’ll follow you, dear brother, wherever you wish to go, whatever you wish to do…just please, please let me stay with you! Please don’t leave me behind, Lorian! Please!”

Lorian’s heart shattered into thousands of pieces. He pulled Lothric close and cradled the back of his head to his breast, rocking him gently.

“ Never, Lothric; I would never leave you behind.” Lorian’s voice took on the determined and serious tone normally reserved for making inspirational and rousing speeches to his troops. “ You are the other half of my soul, little one, and leaving you behind would be the same as putting my head on the guillotine.” Lothric muffled a sob in Lorian’s tunic, who kissed him firmly on the temple. “ Many things will change when we leave the kingdom, baby drake, but my love and devotion for you will remain as eternal as the cycle of light and dark—and yours for me, I assume. So I will stay with you, Lothric, until the day comes when you are older and have no need of me any longer.”

“ Stop being stupid!” Lothric weakly beat his little fists against Lorian’s back. “ You’re always thinking too hard about all of the wrong things! I will always need you, Lorian, so don’t you ever say anything like that again! That’s an order!”

A small part of Lorian was relieved at those words, and he laughed wetly against Lothric’s bony shoulder, feeling as if he would burst open from being so full of love. Was there a limit on how much the human heart could feel at once?

“ As you command, Your Majesty.” With that, Lorian pressed his lips together and blew against the junction of Lothric’s shoulder and neck, making the boy squeal and squirm in his arms.

As Lothric slept, curled up on Lorian’s chest, the elder prince pulled out the map Sirris had given him and studied it intently, doing his best to estimate their position from the landmarks she had marked on the parchment.

Interpreting Sirris’ handwriting was difficult at best (thank goodness one does not require skilled penmanship to become a knight!), but while it took some squinting and page-tilting to make out the words, Lorian eventually determined that they were coming close to the river that acted as Irithyll’s western border. According to Sirris, if they followed the river a short ways north, they would come across a bridge that would only be visible to those wearing a specially charged talisman. Said talisman would also enable them to pass through the two translucent gates at the bridge’s entrance and exit.

Whatever you do , she had noted and underlined, make absolutely sure that you are not being followed when you cross over. Secrecy is how the city has remained undisturbed for centuries. Prying eyes would only lead to problems.

A chill ran down Lorian’s back as he read those words. Was it from the cold, or his nerves? As if on queue, a gust of wind rattled through the mouth of the cave, and Lorian tucked his free arm under Lothric’s legs to shift him further up his chest.

How was it that freedom could feel so close yet so far away? Only half a day’s journey…they could potentially be in Irithyll by what would have been the end of the day in the sunlit realm; but what if something happened along the way? What if Oceiros caught up to them earlier than expected? Had Lorian or Lothric let something slip, in their final days in the kingdom, that raised the king’s suspicions? He knew Lothric was not one to let his thoughts slip out unawares—even at his most tired and trancelike—but what if one of Lorian’s knights had noticed something strange about their commander’s behavior, and reported it to Oceiros? What if one of their father’s spies overheard his initial conversation with Sirris? What if Sirris, gods forbid, truly did intend to betray them?

No. Lorian shook his head with far more aggression than necessary. If she had intended to betray us, I would have been stopped the moment I entered the dragons' barracks. Only Sirris knows where we are right now. We are safe. We are almost to Irithyll. We will be free soon.

Freedom…what was it like?

While Lothric may have had his destiny forced upon him the moment he was conceived, Lorian had had his life mapped out by the king and queen from the time he was a toddler, and the thought of who he might be, outside of their influence, was…jarring, to say the least. What would Lorian become now that he was no longer a prince or a commander? Lothric, at least, had the advantage of being a child still. From the books on childrearing Lorian had frantically read in the days after his little brother’s birth, he knew that it was far easier for children to adapt and overcome than it was for adults, and Lorian was swiftly approaching twenty-nine years of age. How different would he have been without Oceiros breathing down his neck, and their mother tut-tutting him whenever he learned a skill that did not involve swordplay or tactics? For all the things Lorian knew he was useless at, the elder prince was confident in his skills as a knight and a military commander, and the thought of choosing another path in life had never crossed his mind until the reality of leaving the Kingdom of Lothric became unavoidable.

If he was to give up being a knight once they reached Irithyll…what could he be?

While Lorian was pretty certain he was useless at anything but fighting, planning, and dragon riding, he did enjoy working with his hands. He had always wanted to learn how to garden, and when Lorian had taken it upon himself to learn how to sew, knit, and cook basic staples after Lothric was born, the elder prince was surprised at how much he enjoyed all three activities. He was good with wyverns—or so they said—and he was fond of animals in general, especially frogs, crystal lizards, and turtles. He loved anything reptilian, really, including snakes. They were such misunderstood and maligned creatures, but they were simply doing their best, just like every other living creature in the world.

Lorian enjoyed reading, but could not do it very well. He had discovered after Lothric’s birth that he adored taking care of children—even when it came to the messier and more "unpleasant" tasks that came with the responsibility—but he hardly had the chance to be around other little ones. He could do basic metalwork and smithing, but only when it came to rudimentary repairs and upkeep for his armor and weaponry. He could navigate any political situation with the instinct of a salmon swimming upstream, and he had negotiated himself, his soldiers, and his kingdom out of many a sticky situation in the past…but what good would such skills do when he was no longer in a position to make use of them? Was he good at anything other than being a brute?

Lothric snuffled and shifted against his breastplate, and Lorian found himself smiling in spite of himself, setting the map on the ground so he could stroke his brother’s cheek with a bronze-covered finger.

As long as he could be a good elder brother, mother, father…he could live with being mediocre at everything else.

Lorian hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until he woke to find Lothric sitting close to their makeshift bonfire, a scowl on his now-uncovered mouth as he angrily held one of the tin cans they’d brought against the flaming sword—as if he were cross that its contents were not warming as quickly as he would like. The child practically jumped out of his thin skin when Lorian coughed to get his attention, and he had to scramble to keep his grip on the cup, which nearly slipped out of his unwieldy hands.

“ How long have I been asleep?” Lorian asked, once Lothric relaxed.

“ A couple hours, I think. I woke up when you shifted in your sleep.”

“ Ah.” Lorian rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “ I’m sorry, Lothric.”

“ Don’t be. I feel just fine now.” The younger prince certainly sounded far peppier than he had before his nap, and Lorian noticed that his brother's hands were no longer shaking from exhaustion and cold. “ I’m actually glad you woke me up. I wanted to make sure you actually slept instead of staying awake and worrying about all of the wrong things.”

The knight couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “ Ah, guilty as charged, I suppose.”

“ You ‘suppose.'” Lothric rolled his eyes and scooted closer to his elder brother. “Here, Lorian; I made this for you.”

As Lorian took the cup in his hands, his nose caught whiff of a familiar spicy aroma, and a smile spread across his face as he stared into the dark liquid. “ You hate this type of tea.”

“ It smells like the Grand Archives.” Lothric wrinkled his nose, making Lorian laugh again.

“  Yet you brought some along with us?”

Lothric stared at Lorian as if he had just declared that fire was hot. “ Of course I did. It’s your favorite. I did not know if we would be able to find some in Irithyll, so I wrapped some in a handkerchief and tucked it into my robes. I melted some snow to make it. ”

Lorian struggled not to tear up. How was he so easily disarmed by basic kindness? “Thank you, dear brother. Have you had something warm to drink yourself?”

“ Yes, before you woke up; I brought some sugar to melt with the snow.” Lothric watched with satisfaction as Lorian sipped his "old wax tea," as he so disdainfully called it. “ I can add some to your tea if you’d like.”

“ No. Save it in case you need it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lorian noticed the map he had set aside earlier, laid out on one of the flatter rocks near his sword. “ Were you reading the map while I was asleep?”

Lothric nodded. “ I think we are close…half a day, maybe. Are we going to follow the river to that bridge on the map?”

Lorian nodded and took a long pull of tea, sighing in contentment as warmth spread through his chilled limbs. It was the perfect antidote for what he called ‘armor bite’. “ Do you have the strength to make it the rest of the way without stopping? Answer me honestly.”

“ I think I would be able to ride on your back for a week straight, if it means getting away from Father.”

Lorian laughed until he snorted tea up his nose.

After finishing his drink and sharing some of the pastries they’d packed with Lothric, Lorian pulled his sword out of the ground, slid it into the scabbard on his back, and secured the bags of their belongings to his waist. Once he was sure the map was safely tucked down his neck and into his chest plate, he knelt down and allowed Lothric to climb onto his back, reaching behind himself to make sure the child was seated securely on his scabbard. Once Lothric had a good grip around his neck, Lorian stood and walked out of the cave, taking a moment to orient himself before resuming their trek down the valley.

As Lorian carefully picked his way down the snow-covered slope, Lothric resumed chattering, apparently having turned his focus onto all of the things he wanted to do once they reached their destination. When they got to Irithyll, he told Lorian, they would have to get a house. Not a big one, probably, but something just for the two of them, that they could decorate together. In all of the books he’d read, the bedroom had always been on the top floor of the house, but Lothric would prefer to have his own on the bottom since he wouldn’t need Lorian’s help to get to it so much. Of course, they could have separate rooms now, but the younger prince wouldn’t hate sharing Lorian’s bed if he absolutely had to, because Lorian was so warm and he always felt so safe to sleep next to, and it was also convenient when he woke up due to pain or asthma or fever or coughing, which happened…quite a bit. Well, even if Lothric couldn’t sleep on his own yet, Lorian just had to get out and meet people and have his own life! He was twenty-eight, for Heaven’s sake! He needed to make friends and find someone his own age that could help him in all of the ways Lothric couldn’t.

Oh, and Lothric had been doing research on the climate and vegetation of the Boreal Valley for the past couple of days, and it would actually be quite easy to make a viable garden, as long as they used the right plants! A small one would be possible, right? Lorian had always wanted to try gardening, and Lothric would probably be able to help care for the plants in some ways, so it would be a project they could work on together. Maybe Lorian could finally keep the frogs he had a habit of rescuing from the most precarious of situations. A few cold-tolerant species lived in the Boreal Valley, so maybe they could get a small housing tank for them, like the ones Father had in his lab.

They could also have bookshelves, right? Lothric knew that there were most likely plenty of libraries in the city itself, but there was something about having books of one’s own that you could go back to time and time again, and—in Lothric’s opinion—a house always looked better with bookshelves. Well, no, he hadn’t actually been anywhere other than the castle grounds in his short lifetime. But he had read about what people did with houses in books, and nine times out of ten, they had several bookshelves in their houses. Why is that funny? You have a strange sense of humor, Lorian!

As Lothric alternated between planning out their new life and scolding Lorian for finding it humorous, the scenery around them slowly began to shift. The rocky crags that had closed in around the forest like a trap began to smooth and soften, becoming gently rolling hills, dotted with trees of their own, and the rocky ground beneath Lorian’s feet grew softer and more fecund as they continued their descent. As the valley began to level off into a riverbed, the snow began to thicken at Lorian’s feet, and it was at his mid calf level by the time they heard the rushing of the water. Lothric—who had never seen a river in real life before—insisted on being let down to get a firsthand look, but Lorian waited until they had reached the riverbank proper before kneeling to let his little brother off. He didn’t think Lothric’s body would appreciate having to wade through a waist-high snow bank.

The river itself was mostly covered over by ice, but there were a few holes in the ice where one could see the rushing current underneath, and the ice seemed to break up close to a patch of rapids further downstream. Lothric kneeled at the riverbank and peered at the water through a hole in the ice, squinting as he tried to catch sight of any fish swimming by, and Lorian was content to leave him to his own devices as he took stock of their environment. Though the elder prince’s vision grew fuzzy at the limit of the horizon, he thought he could see lights through the fog in the distance, and he asked Lothric for a second opinion.

“ Yeah, I can see it, too!” The child nodded vigorously. “ Do you think it is Irithyll?”

“ I do not know. I thought you were only supposed to see the city if you were wearing the talisman, and since you are not touching me right now, you shouldn’t be able to see it.” Lorian frowned in thought. “ Then again, this is you we’re talking about. It would not surprise me if you had the ability to see through illusion magic.”

“ Guess that’s another thing that makes me ‘special,'” Lothric grumbled moodily, using a stick he’d found in the snow to poke at some sort of empty shell on the bank. Lorian’s heart ached.

“ Come now, Lothric. This is a good thing.” Lothric blinked and glanced up at his elder brother. “ Think about it: if we were to get separated somehow, then we could meet in Irithyll. I would not have to worry about you being lost in the valley.”

“ Why would we be separated?” Lothric’s frown deepened.

“ The first lesson you learn as a knight, little one, is to always anticipate and prepare for all outcomes.” Lorian knelt down next to Lothric and examined the flat shell he had found—some sort of freshwater clam, perhaps. “ Would you like to take a few with us to make a necklace or talisman of some sort?”

Lothric’s expression brightened nigh-instantly—seemingly distracted from his prior thoughts—and he set about sifting through the shells on the riverbed, picking up and examining each one individually before either placing it in his hand or setting it back on the muddy shale. Once he had collected a large variety of shells in different shapes and colors, the younger prince tucked them safely into one of the inner pockets of his prayer robe before climbing back onto Lorian’s back, ready to begin the final leg of their journey.

As they continued upstream, the ground began to rise in incline, and Lorian found himself climbing up a surprisingly steep and snow-covered hill. Lothric had offered to teleport them to the top, but Lorian wanted his little brother to save his energy and declined, even if his calves were burning like Chaos fire once they finally reached the top. At least the lights in the distance were far closer than before, and Lothric spotted an old flat stump in a nearby clearing, on which Lorian all but collapsed with a sigh of relief. As Lothric milled about nearby, Lorian unclipped the backs of his boots and reached inside, massaging the tight and aching muscles of his legs. The pain abated with a few minutes of vigorous rubbing, but the tingling was slow to dissipate, and Lorian couldn’t help but feel concerned. He was more than used to numbness and needle-like pain in his legs after a long march, but this day of travelling was short and mild compared to the large mountain ranges he had traversed in the past, and his little brother weighed next to nothing. Why were his legs bothering him so? Perhaps it was due to the anxiety of the situation, or the heavy packs he wore at his waist, or maybe…

With another sigh, Lorian unclipped his side bags and set them on either side of the stump, deciding to massage his legs for a moment or two longer and wait for the strange tingling to pass. He could hear Lothric shuffling about nearby, and he was confident his little brother knew better than to wander off too far (not that he could go far, anyway, with his weak limbs and rheumatic joints), so he focused his attention on slamming his feet on the ground in an attempt to get his blood flowing.

“ Ah. Much better.” The brief tension abated as the strange numbness passed, as quickly as it had come, and Lorian quickly set about fastening his boots back into place. “ We should not have too far to go now. Lothric. Are you ready to—“

Something cold and wet hit Lorian in the head, and he all but jumped out of his armor in his haste to stand, frantically scanning his surroundings in search of his attacker. Lothric giggled, and Lorian reached up to touch the back of his head, feeling the remnants of snow clinging to his long hair.

“ Got you!” Lothric cheered. Another snowball hit Lorian in the back, and the elder prince found himself grinning as he turned to face his "attacker," who had seemingly vanished in the scant seconds in-between.

“ Lothric! You can’t just teleport in a snowball fight!” As much as Lorian wanted to scold Lothric for wasting his energy in such a precarious situation, his mischievous side ended up winning out, and he quickly knelt down to grab some snow of his own. “ It gives you an unfair advantage!”

“ Unfair?!” The little voice came from somewhere to Lorian’s left. “ Says the man who is taller than every other knight in Lothric! You said yourself that I can’t walk in snow this deep!”

Lorian ducked to avoid the snowball lobbed directly at his head. Was it just him, or was there a faint crackle of magic in the air?

“ Lothric! You’re supposed to use your arms!”

“ I have no upper body strength, Lorian !” Lothric’s voice was indignant, and Lorian couldn’t keep himself from laughing, tossing his own snowball at the pale face peeking out from behind a nearby tree. It caught Lothric’s cheek before he could move, and the little boy squealed in delight before clasping his hands together and vanishing in a flash of white light. Lorian sprung to his feet and looked around for his brother’s new hiding place, his abdominal muscles beginning to ache from laughing so much.

“ All right, you little imp!” Lorian did his best evil cackle and scooped up some more snow, making a show of patting it into a perfect circle. He could hear muffled giggling to his right. “ I’ll have you know that I was the reigning snowball fight champion for six years straight! No squire was able to overcome my impeccable aim and quick reflexes! Prepare yourself, foul vagrant!”

Another magically-charged snowball came zooming towards Lorian, clipping him in the arm as he rolled to dodge, and Lothric cheered and peeked through the snowy branches of a nearby pine tree.

“ Yes! Prepare to relinquish your title to the true Lord of Snowballs, foolish knight!”

Lorian smirked and lobbed his snowball at Lothric’s head. As was the elder prince’s intention, the snowball whizzed just past the younger prince’s head, smashing against the tree trunk behind him. Lothric made a little "eep!" and teleported away before Lorian could ready another.

“ Coward!” Lorian crowed with mock annoyance. He tossed his snowball in the air with mock confidence as he searched for his brother. “ Come out and face me if you wish to take your throne!”

Nothing. Lorian caught his snowball and held it still.

“ Lothric?”

An unnatural stillness settled over the clearing. It was as if the air had become a thick blanket, smothering the groaning of the snow-encumbered tree limbs and the chattering of the birds; even the sharp cracking of the river ice seemed muffled to Lorian’s ears. An equally thick sense of dread worked its way up the knight’s throat.

“ Lothric?!” Lorian didn’t bother masking the concern in his voice. “ Lothric, this isn’t funny! If you are trying to hide from me, then you need to come out— now!”

A strange sound filtered through the cotton-like fuzz in Lorian’s ears—viscous, feral, and unreal all at once. A lash of panic cracked through Lorian’s nerves, and the elder prince was unsheathing his sword and darting towards the noise before he even consciously realized it, springing through the thicket with a grace and swiftness that would have surprised all that knew him.

“ Lothric! Lothric!”

Lorian crashed through the thicket like a battering ram and found himself on top of a small hill just adjacent to the riverbank. His frantic eyes soon caught sight of Lothric, huddled in a little ball at the river’s edge, but any relief Lorian felt was soon eclipsed by the utterly petrified look on his little sibling’s face. A large shadow seemed to have fallen over him, and his little brother seemed paralyzed as he looked up at the source, both his prayer and makeshift blanket hood falling behind him to reveal his wide, unblinking stare. He looked so small and frail in that massive shadow—his little limbs trembling like a leaf caught in a gale—and the sight was so distressing to the elder prince that it took him a moment to see just what Lothric was looking at.

What on—!

It was a monster—the kind of monster one typically saw in storybooks designed to scare children into listening to their parents.  Lorian had faced demons of every shape, size, color, and nature, but he had never before beheld a surface creature of such a size. He had read the legends, of course—of the Great Grey Wolf, companion of Knight Artorias the Abysswalker, that grew to be as tall and long as a house, but the creature standing in front of his bother seemed abnormally stretched , with four twisted, clawed limbs and a spine that struggled to break through its thick brown fur. An unruly mane of matted brown hair stretched from crown to the tip of its elongated tail, and its snout was as long and broad as that of a Catarinian crocodile, full to bursting with jagged, dragon-like teeth and dripping with ichorous drool.

What could it possibly be? The only thing Lorian could compare it to were the many artistic interpretations of Manus, Father of the Abyss, that he had seen over the years. Yet Lorian had spied nary a trace of the Abyss in the surrounding area. Where could it have possibly come from?

The creature growled—a sound akin to the grinding of animal bones on a whetstone—and the three red eyes that Lorian could see were fixed on the child trembling before him. His little brother appeared a hen chick in the den of a starving fox, and Lorian found himself reacting without conscious thought, picking up a nearby large rock with his free hand and hurling it at the creature with all of his might.

“ Hey! You!”

The rock hit the beast square in the forehead, and it immediately turned to face him, glaring up at him with six glowing red eyes and bellowing in rage. Lorian’s stomach twisted at the sight of its massive ribs jutting out of the fur of its chest.

Something is not right.

“ Up here, you monster! Do you not think of me as far more substantial prey?! I certainly have more meat on my bones!” Lorian readied his sword in both hands as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Now behind the creature, Lothric seemed to snap out of his petrification, and he looked up at Lorian with frantic eyes. Lorian nodded at him— get away, I will handle this —and Lothric quickly clasped his hands together and teleported out of sight, allowing his elder brother to focus his full attention on the threat before him. Said threat did not seem to notice the flash of light that signified the boy’s departure; its entire focus was now trained on the knight standing atop the hill, and its claws dug into the frozen earth beneath it as it crouched low, preparing to spring into the air and strike first.

Lorian was not going to give it the chance.

Though the greatsword in the elder prince’s hands was scorched with the fire of its greatest adversary, a strange symbiosis had developed between the knight and the lingering trace of the Demon Prince’s soul housed in the blackened steel. Flames engulfed the blade without a conscious command, and Lorian quickly sprung off of the hill and plunged his sword down at the monster’s head.

The thing leapt to the side at the last second, but found itself caught against the steep hillside, and Lorian’s greatsword sunk itself into  its left side. The scream it emitted shook Lorian down to the marrow, and it quickly began to thrash back and forth in an attempt to shake him off, eventually moving to slam its side against the hill. Sensing its intentions, Lorian quickly wrenched his sword out of the meat of the monster’s ribcage, and dropped to the ground, rolling underneath it and springing to his feet before it consciously realized he was gone. The somewhat-solidified mud of the riverbank gave under Lorian’s bronze boots, and he quickly dug his heels into the earth to ensure he had enough purchase to move without slipping and falling.

Finally realizing that the knight was no longer on its left, the monster spun around with a speed that was more than a little impressive, its glowing red eyes constricting to the size of large beads once it caught sight of Lorian standing with his back to the river.

That’s right , Lorian thought, unable to keep a slight smirk off of his face. He tightened his two-handed grip on his greatsword. You are angry with me, aren’t you? I interrupted your mid-afternoon snack. Go on! Attack me!

As if in response to his silent taunting, the creature screamed and charged, its massive claws tearing chunks off of the riverbed as fog and saliva poured from its mouth. Lorian’s smirk widened, and he quickly turned and swiped his sword into the shallow water at the bank, releasing a torrent of steam into the air. The monster shirked as it careened headlong into the makeshift smokescreen, allowing Lorian to nimbly sidestep his way out of its path. Though the steam also obscured his vision, he heard the beast pitch into the shallows, and he used that noise to guide the path of his blade.

Lorian felt his blade hit flesh, and he leapt backwards just as the monster lunged to counterattack, its jaws uselessly snapping at the air where he once stood.

Only one of us has practiced fighting without sight, it seems.

The smell of curdling flesh met Lorian’s nostrils as he swung once more, and this time his blade appeared to catch on something solid at the end of its arc, presumably one of the monster’s large ribs. The prince gave a quick yank to free his blade, and there was a gruesome cracking of bone as the obstruction gave way, the creature wailing in pain as one of its large ribs was splintered at its base. He sprang backward as the creature dove at him, slamming its snout into the mud with enough force that Lorian felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet when he landed.

By then, the steam had dissipated to the point where he could see the creature’s eyes flaring in the mist, and Lorian could feel Lothric’s gaze on his back from his hiding place. As much as the elder prince enjoyed the thrill of a good fight, he knew that the risk to himself and his brother increased the longer it went on, so he decided it was time to finish the job.

With a yell, Lorian aimed his sword near the creature’s eyes and ran forward, thrusting the flaming blade into an area just left of what he assumed was the monster’s head. His estimated guess paid off, as he felt his blade plunge into the meaty area between the base of the creature’s neck and shoulder, and he braced his left foot on the upper part of the creature’s left leg, digging his right foot into the ground and effectively preventing the beast from moving forward or away. Lorian rammed his iron-inlaid heel into the creature’s left leg, and he felt his blade tear upward as the creature collapsed onto its left knee, blood spurting out of the wound before the heat could effectively cauterize its flesh. The position Lorian was in made it near-impossible for the monster to crane its neck back far enough to bite him, and though it tried frantically to stand, the fact that its left leg had been forced to the ground meant that its right leg was left slipping uselessly for purchase in the mud.

It was a foolproof trick Lorian had used many a time when hunting wild drakes with the kingdom’s wyvern tamers. If they were attempting to catch the creature alive, Lorian would use a long spear with a sedative smeared on its tip instead of a sword, and he would simply have to hold the wyvern immobile long enough for it to go slack or be drugged further into unconsciousness by the handlers. However, on those rare instances where a rabid or battle-crazed wyvern was a direct threat to the surrounding villages or the other dragonriders, using a sword instead of a spear ensured that, no matter how the wyvern struggled or the blade moved, it would be able to either incapacitate it or kill it: the blade would inevitably cut major blood vessels, nerves, the spinal cord, or even the heart itself.

Well, no matter how the death came about, a wyvern’s demise would be all but ensured once a blade was embedded in that specific spot between the neck and left shoulder, and Lorian assumed that this particular beast—as unnerving as it was—would be equally doomed.

“ Go, brother dearest; go!” Lorian could hear Lothric cheer and clap somewhere in the background, and he couldn’t help but square his shoulders in pride before tightening his grip on the blade and digging his heel into the flesh of the creature’s left knee for purchase, deciding to drag the sword right and sever whatever blood vessels fed the beast’s brain.

The steam finally dissipated completely, and just before Lorian could twist the sword and pull, he saw the creature’s mouth open and begin to… spark?

Lorian froze.

That’s impossible. The elder prince watched—too stunned to remember how to move—as a storm began to coalesce in the creature’s gaping jaws. Only humans and god-kin have the ability to conjure lightni—

The creature fired, and Lorian screamed , the impossible being obliterated as every nerve ending in his body seemed to explode at once.

“ Lorian !”

The elder prince could dimly hear his little brother calling his name, but it was hard to register anything outside of himself as his blood boiled and his throat seemed to fill with smoke, his heart clattering against his ribcage like silverware falling onto a stone floor. He had been hit with lightning spears before—it being a common spell in Lothric’s military—but it had always been while wearing rubber-lined training armor, and none of the kingdom’s human enemies ever made use of faith-based miracles and spells in combat. He had never before felt the sensation of every muscle in his limbs attempting to rip themselves off of his body and punch through his armor all at once. He had never before seen such stars explode in his head and eyes. It felt like having died and been reborn a thousand times in a blink. Dimly, Lorian marveled at the fact that he had found an experience even more unpleasant than being burned by demon fire, but the thought slipped away as soon as it had come like sand through his fingers.

Is this what dying feels like…?

While his hands maintained a death grip on the hilt of his sword, Lorian’s legs had spasmed and given out beneath him, allowing the monster to climb to its feet. It shook violently, and though Lorian wouldn’t have been able to make his hands release the hilt if he tried, the sword eventually slipped out the creature’s body, sending both Lorian and his weapon tumbling unceremoniously to the ground. The impact finally knocked the hilt out of Lorian’s fingers, but before he could even attempt to consider picking it up, he felt the creature’s hot breath on his face, and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know what was going to happen.

The creature clamped its jaws around his middle, and Lorian found himself screaming again, his eyes flying open and his hands instinctively flying out to claw at its face. Undeterred, it lifted the knight into the air and slammed him into the ground again and again—an action that would have been fatal had Lorian not been wearing his brass helmet. He felt the creature’s jaws puncture something deep inside of him, and Lorian suddenly found himself unable to catch his breath.

There was a flash of white light, and Lorian found himself falling to the ground as the creature screeches and stumbled backwards, watching—entranced—as a plume of smoke wafted from scorched fur on the side of its head.

“ Let my brother go, you rotten, worthless, wretched thing!!”

Another white soul arrow slammed into the monster’s head, sending it careening backwards, and Lorian somehow found the strength and sensation to push himself up on his hands, nearly blacking out from both pain and his sudden inability to breathe. His limbs shook violently, but he forced himself to move as much as he could, reaching out a hand to grab his sword. He barely had the strength and coordination to move, let alone attempt to wield a weapon, but he had to protect Lothric. No matter what, he had to…he had to…!

There were little arms wrapping around his chest, helping to support him, and Lorian’s eyes—which had closed from the pain—snapped open. “ No, Lothric…get away…run!” He weakly tried to push his brother off with his free hand. “ Go to Irithyll…you have to leave me and go!”

“ I am not going anywhere without you!” Lothric’s blue eyes were wet and wild, but his trembling mouth was set into a determined line, and he used strength Lorian hadn't thought he possessed to haul his half-paralyzed elder brother close to a sitting position. “ I would rather die than be without you, dear brother! So either we go to Irithyll together, or—!”

Before Lothric could finish his sentence, the creature finally rose back to its feet, and Lorian wanted to weep in anguish as it fixed its eyes on the boy. They had been so close, so godsdamned close , and he had only his worthless, pathetic self to blame! Why had he allowed himself to be distracted by its lightning attack?! Lothric had not yet learned how to teleport anyone other than himself, and if he refused to run and leave Lorian, then…

I could not even protect my brother in the end.

Lorian met Lothric’s eyes, and though the boy was clearly frightened, he simply tightened his grip around Lorian’s chest.

I am so sorry, Lothric. You deserved a better brother…a better family…a better life…

“ I love you, Lorian.” Lothric whispered. “ I love you so much. I’m so glad you were my brother over any other brother I could have had.”

No longer able to find words, Lorian simply sobbed and pulled his brother close, shielding him as best he could with his body as the creature slowly approached its prey. His only hope was that he would take to devouring Lorian first and allow Lothric the chance to escape.

I love you too, Lothric. I wish I could have done right by you.

Now merely a few steps away, the beast reared back, foam and drool spilling from its mouth as it opened its jaws wide—

—and screeched in pain as a large blast of purple magic slammed into it from the hilltop, ripping a bloody chunk of muscle, fur, and bone out of its left side and sending it tumbling over itself into the river.

Lothric yelped in surprise, and Lorian instinctively tightened his arms around his little brother, his sluggish brain desperately trying to comprehend the fact that they were still alive. Though his vision was beginning to fade in and out, he could see the creature struggle to its feet, now bleeding profusely from its left side. It tried to charge at the hill, but the moment its claws touched the riverbank, it was struck by another violet-colored soul arrow, somehow larger and more potent than the last. Lorian could see the creature’s ribs disintegrate alongside the entirety of the skin and fat on its right side, leaving only ragged, hemorrhagic muscle behind. The beast fell on its front and slid, snout first, to a stop on the shore.

“ Amazing…!” Lothric breathed, eyes now wide with wonder instead of fear, and Lorian silently agreed with his statement. Even their goddess mother had never demonstrated such power—!

Black spots danced in front of Lorian’s eyes, but he forced himself to stay awake, if only to make sure Lothric was okay. The creature had been mauled into a ragged and worn scrap of a living being, shuddering and moaning in pain, and it was bleeding so profusely that the shallows of the river were beginning to tint pink. It weakly lifted its head to look at the hilltop, and though Lorian’s gaze could certainly have been deceiving him, he could have sworn he saw its red eyes flash with what looked like recognition.

Its jaws opened.

“ YooOoooOOoooooUrr MaaaAaaaaAAAaajjjesstttyyYY…”

Was Lorian hearing things, or were those words?

“ heeeeeeeeeelp meeeEEEEeeeeeEe...”

Despite the buzzing in his ears and the strangely coherent mutterings of the monster, Lorian was still able to hear the sound of a bow being drawn in the direction of the hillside. It released with a sharp ping , and before Lorian could blink an eye, the sky above the creature darkened, and a torrent of small golden arrows began to rain from the thick clouds. They struck the creature in the hundreds, piercing through its thick, hair-covered hide as if it were paper—but while Lorian and Lothric were only a short distance away from their target, the arrows did not stray from the immediate area surrounding the creature.

With one last, blood-curdling cry, the beast collapsed into a macerated, arrow-riddled heap on the riverbank, blood seeping out of its hundreds of wounds and darkening the mud beneath it.

As its red eyes finally grew dark, Lorian found what strength he had leaving him, and he could not stop his weight from falling entirely onto his frail brother.

“ Lorian!” Lothric scrambled out from beneath Lorian’s body before he was crushed, and as the edges of Lorian’s vision began to darken, he saw Lothric’s pale face appear above him. His face was so very damp and pained, and oh, how Lorian wished he had the strength to wipe away his tears! As it stood, he only had the strength to smile, and he managed to weakly squeeze the little fingers that wrapped around his hand. “ Please, please hold on, dear brother! Just hold on and I’ll heal you right up—!”

“ Wait.”

Another voice met Lorian’s ears—prim and genderless, with a soft firmness that was unusually soothing. There was a flash of bright golden light, and the stranger was suddenly at Lorian’s other side, setting what appeared to be a long, golden staff on the ground as they knelt at the knight’s side.

Though it was becoming a struggle to even keep his eyes open—let alone see anything with them—Lorian did his best to make out the features of their unexpected savior. It may have been the pain and blood loss muddling his mind, but Lorian thought this apparent sorcerer was the most ethereal being he had ever seen: skin as white as clean snow, which contrasted dramatically with their black raiment; long hair seemingly made of moonlight itself, spilling over their shoulders and cascading down their back; and some sort of burnished golden crown that covered their eyes. What Lorian could see of their face was soft, delicate, and rounded, and as they took Lorian’s free hand in their own, the knight could feel soft, well-tended skin and manicured nails against his bloodied and calloused palms.

“ Beautiful.” Lorian murmured before he could stop himself. Their savior’s thin lips briefly parted—making a small "o" shape—before flattening into a frown.

“ That creature may have broken its teeth against thy brother’s armor when it bit him,” the figure calmly yet sternly explained to Lothric. “ If thee heals him as he is, thou may seal a foreign body into his wounds, which shall only worsen his condition.”

“ But he’s bleeding!” Lothric wailed, his grip tightening on Lorian’s hand. The elder prince gave it another reassuring squeeze, weaker than before. “ There is no point in removing a tooth from his body if he bleeds out before you can do it!”

“ Rest thy heart, little one; thy brother is not the first critically-injured knight to whom I have tended.” One soft hand pressed itself to Lorian’s chest while the other gently touched his forehead. “ Brave knight, can thee hearest mine voice?”

Lorian nodded, his eyes falling shut as the last of his strength began to drain away.

“ I am going to cast a healing miracle to stop thy bleeding. Once thee can safely be moved, I shall take thee and thy brother back to mine home and tend to thee.” A familiar, soft tingling ran through Lorian’s body, and he grit his teeth against the pain of his blood vessels knitting themselves back together. “ Art thou the ‘Lorian’ of which the little one speaks?”

Another weak nod. “ Irithyll…” Lorian’s voice was barely a whisper. “ We have to...Irithyll.”

“ How dost thee know of Irithyll?”

“ Talisman…map…neck…” Lorian’s words were as fragmented as his scattering thoughts. “ Sirris…”

“ Sirris?” He heard the figure breathe. The hand left his forehead, reached under Lorian’s armor, and gripped the talisman. “ How did thee gain hold of this necklace? Did it belong to Lady Sirris?”

He knows her. Hope filled Lorian’s heart. Even if he were to die on this riverbank, Lothric would still make it to Irithyll. His little brother would be safe. “ Lothric…”

There were heavy, clanking footsteps approaching from afar. He was so tired…

“ Lothric? Dost thee mean the kingdom?”

“ Lothric…my little brother…” Darkness closed in around Lorian like a trap, but he forced his lips to move, knowing it may be his last act. “ Please…take care of him…keep him safe, in Irithyll…do not…let him burn…”

Lorian’s mind finally went blank under the weight of oblivion, and as his thoughts unraveled at the seams and fell into nothing, the last thing he heard was his brother calling his name.