Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, everything belongs to their respective owners. Really, if I owned either of these series do you think I'd be writing on here?

-Anor Londo, Lordran—

I stood high above in the balcony, thinking, like always. Smough, my comrade, stood down below, as always. My trusty spear rested against the wall far behind me, the weapon ready to be wielded if I need to fulfill the last duty I had been assigned.

If there was one thing I could always be counted on, it was to do my duty. Every single mission I had ever been assigned was completed, I always made sure of it. I would allow nothing less for my Lord and comrades, and certainly I wouldn't allow anything less for me. I was rather prideful, I suppose.

Duty meant a lot to me. A single word, yet it seemed like the only one I've ever truly understood. Duty was honor. It was not disgracing the faith put into you by your lord when given an assignment. Duty was having an unyielding will, putting the mission before anything else. Duty was putting the kingdom before one's self.

I had always been really good at all of them, but the last one in particular. I never asked for much in life to be honest, serving the land I dared call home was more than enough for me to be… not happy, no, I've never really been happy, seldom did I get sparks of happiness in my life… It was enough for me to feel content.

Of course, that feeling had long since faded. For one, there was not really much of a kingdom left here was there?

I sighed, clearly an unfitting thing for a knight of my caliber to do, but who was around? Not one person; that was kind of the point, all my thinking due to this single fact.

Well, Smough was around, but he had long since… changed. It saddened me, to see my last friend lost in such a way. I have to wonder if this was yet another thing that I could have helped prevent. But Smough always did eat the bones of those he crushed, so I believe that is the primary cause.

He still showed flashes of his old self mind you, but it was never truly the same. Nothing was really the same anymore.

It all started with that damn primeval man, and if he had not already been vanquished, I would slay him a thousand times over! But he had been slain, and certainly not by my hands- no.

I still recall when Ciaran told me of his fate, of the Chosen Undead Knight that slayed my friend. I held nothing but gratitude towards him; he freed Artorias while I did nothing. By the Gods, I wanted to do nothing more than assist him in his journey, he did what I would have never been able to do.

Yet, I always must remind myself that he is the Chosen Undead. One day I will face him.

And that is where the problem itself lies doesn't it?

When I face him, if I was to defeat him, and I assured myself if I truly asserted myself I would be able to beat him, what of Artorias? What of Manus? Would that damn monster still roam free in the ancient Kingdom of Ollacile, or would the abyss spread further? Would Artorias still suffer? Would I have to face him myself one day?

The very thought disturbed me. I dare not even attempt to imagine Artorias anymore. I still remember Ciaran telling me of his condition when I begged her to. I remember picturing- by Izaith, I still do picture it- his limp arm, the abyss consuming him, his screams of pain, his insanity. Ciaran always was rather vivid.

Ciaran… That was another name that caused me great pain.

I admit, though this is a great strike on my honor; I was smitten by Ciaran.

She never returned my feelings of course. She had loved Artorias far too much. This does very little to change the fact that my feelings for her still linger, in fact it makes it worse. Artorias was my best friend, and I betray him with these stray thoughts!? Not even to mention how Ciaran herself feels about me!

I am a disgrace- I should have gone; I should have been consumed!

Anything would be better than this!

But that's just it isn't it? There is nothing I can do about it now. The past was the past. All I can do now is continue fulfilling my duty, like always.

-Tristian Academy of Magic, Tristian—

I won't lie; I was nervous. It was a very important day for me. The Springfield Summoning ritual was today, and I wasn't exactly glowing with confidence. My classmates never really allowed me much confidence.

Not that they mattered or anything! No, it's not that. It was much more than that. Never casting a successful spell in my entire life just had me worried.

I could do it though, I was a Vallerie! My family was one of the most powerful in all of Tristian- my own mother was Karin the Heavy Wind for pities sake! Yes, I could do this. I would prove them all wrong.

Still, I wish I didn't go talking to that Germanian barbarian of a woman, bragging about how I'd summon a familiar better than everyone's. I could definitely surpass her stupid fire lizard, but Tabitha's wind dragon? That was a bit much.

I didn't mind Tabitha. She never went out of her way to pick on me or anyone for that matter. She was always so quiet, but definitely an impressive mage- the dragon she summoned just confirmed it for everyone.

"Monetary, please come forth and begin the ritual." Mr. Colbert announced. Oh, great. She was the last student left other than me. I took a deep breath. I'd be called on next, and I could handle it. I would handle it.

It wasn't much; I had spent hours memorizing everything about the spell. How you should feel, what you should think about, what you should say, everything! This was one thing I refused to fail on. I was not a zero, and I refused to be mocked about it any longer.

I would prove everyone wrong, Kirche, Mother, Sister Elenore, everyone! My honor as a noble would allow nothing less. I'd show all of them.

-Anor Londo, Lordran-

I sat by the bonfire near the entrance to Gywnevere's chambers, my eyes picking up the many details on the door as I had done before over a dozen times The worst part about this assignment had to be how boring it was. Sure, you got the occasional undead wanting to trespass, but for the most part it was just sit around and wait for something to happen.

A knight like I still trained of course, Smough sometimes helping me, but I just felt dulled combat wise, still very powerful, but in more of a raw form than I would have preferred to be. It's not like it was my age, I felt as good today as I did a hundred years ago. I aged very slowly.

I have roamed these lands since the dragons still roamed. In fact, that was when I earned my title, Ornstein the Dragonslayer. Titles meant nothing back then of course. Every dragon seemed to be even deadlier than the last.

I held no illusions about my skill. Artorias had always been stronger than me, but I held more prestige with the Gods at the time. That's why I was elected as the leader of the Four Knights, among other things. Ciaran, Gough and Artorias just didn't have that edge like I. Of course, all the other knights had issues that made me a more suitable leader.

Gough, intelligent as he was, always had trouble adapting to situations fast enough. I used to talk to him before any missions though, his plans always came out more effective than mine when he was given time.

Ciaran did not have enough variety in her plans to be an effective leader, too used to assassinations and infiltration to play to someone like Artorias's strengths. She had tried very hard, got much more effective at it, but it was never enough for her to be the captain for the best of the best.

Artorias had always been my equal in everything but speed, as I was his equal in all but strength. In a straight battle, however, I believe he would have defeated me. Yes, he was definitely the most powerful of the four. I imagine his unbreakable will helped with that, he just never gave up, knock him down hundred times and he'd be begging for a thousand more, each time more passionate in battle than the last.

The only reason he was not elected to be the leader was due to his position with the Gods. They all respected him no doubt, anything less and I would have pierced them with my spear, Gywn willing or no, but they detested how out spoken he was.

Much more so than I, but that was part of his charm. In ages long past, I too had been irritated at this aspect of him. Of course, as we spent more time together, we grew a bond stronger than that of mere comrades.

It was a slow process to be sure, transitioning from comrades, friends, best friends, and finally, to brothers.

Yes, that's what he was to me, a brother.

I was tore from my thoughts by a tingling feeling across my body, and I knew right away that someone had entered through the fog gate. Well, I had all but asked it. I always did tempt fate, I suppose.

I stood and grabbed my spear, giving it a good spin before stopping it abruptly. Battle, the only time instincts took over and I was not required to think, and what little I did think would be focused solely on my opponent.

Battle, I decided, was good.

I stepped over to the balcony, just in time to see Smough flipping his hammer over his shoulders. He let loose a guttural laugh, similar to that of a crazed man. I let loose a small sigh, turning my head to take a look at the undead that had entered through the fog gate.

He wielded a… was that a claymore? And he wields the shield just as she described… the armor matches as well… could this be the undead Ciaran spoke of? I shook my head of such thoughts, if he was strong enough to fell Artorias, injured or no, then he'd be able to give me some sort of challenge. That's when I'll know if it's him.

I jumped from atop the balcony, landing gracefully like I had perfected in the Ages of Old, right next to Smough. The undead stared at both of us for a moment, before he seemed to slump slightly. A moment later, another figure walked through the fog.

This one wielded a longsword and a shield with a sun painted on its front, and most of his armor was hidden under white and green clothe, and on his chest was another sun.

I twirled my spear once more, before getting into a pouncing stance. I gave one nod to Smough, before I dashed forward, moving like the lightning I was known for. I was upon the undead in an instant, my spear slashing at him in a lightning-fast arch, which he managed to stumble back and dodge.

Impressive, most undead were unprepared for my speed. I noticed the other undead was going to take on Smough. Fair enough, Smough should be able to handle him.

The undead was trying to get some room between us, but I'd allow no such thing. I stayed on top of him, my spear slashing and thrusting in an attempt to get a hit. On one particular thrust, the undead ducked under, and struck at me with his claymore in a thrust.

I jumped back, taking a swing of my spear at him all the while. It hit its mark, smacking him in his side. He let loose a loud grunt, clearly from pain. I landed on my feet a bit back, eyeing the undead. Smough's steps and the other undead grunts were ignored. I focused solely on my opponent.

He threw his shield off his hand, wrapping his other hand around his Claymore. Held firmly in both hands, he brought his sword above his shoulders pointing forward, obviously wanting me to make the first move.

Very well, it would be impolite of me to refuse.

I channeled lightning towards the tip of my spear, and one could see the lightning jumping out from the tip, desperately wanting to be released from its prison. The Undead Knight tensed, and I released my lightning an instant later.

There was a thunderous boom, but I had long since learned to ignore it. My lightning flew forward, aimed straight at the warrior's chest, or rather, where his chest would have been. The moment I had launched my Lightning, the undead had fallen on his back in a roll, allowing the lightning to go right over his head.

While I was slightly surprised by this maneuver, I certainly didn't show it. I launched forward, dust being kicked off the ground as I pounced, and descended upon the undead with a spear sharp and large enough to penetrate the thick hide of the ancient dragons.

Before I even realized what happened, I felt something as hot as the lava of Izalith under my feet! A moment later, I was launched into the air, pillars of burning, orange flames shooting out from under the ground.
I hit the ground with a clank, but I quickly recovered with a backwards roll, just as the undead brought his claymore down where my head would have been. By the Gods, I was in a tremendous amount of pain.

The tricky bastard, he knew what I would do! And he's a pyromancer! But those flames… they're chaos! No wonder they burnt me so easily! This shan't go unpunished, to wield the treacherous flames of Izalith… That place had taken many of my friends, and I too had been sent there to fight the Chaos demons.

"Thy dare harbor the unholy flame of Chaos?" I spoke, my voice smooth and young, despite my age. I began to circle the undead. He seemed uncertain, confused as to why I was talking in battle most definitely. I agreed; talking should be left for the victor.

"For that I cannot forgive thee, but I shall return thy soul back to the flames of Izalith!" With that said, I pounced forward.

Like lightning, I came up at him with an upwards thrust, the sharp tip of my blade easily piercing the iron plates of his chestplate. My blade went into his abdomen, and I pushed him off the ground. I was impressed with his grip on his weapon, still held in his hand, firmly. It seemed nigh unbreakable.

Quickly, I swung my spear around, sending his body flying off the tip and he bounced a bit and hit a pillar. My body crouched low, as I prepared to finish him, ready to pounce and this time pierce his head, but he produced a chaos fireball in his free hand.

I noticed he had loosened his grip on his Claymore-he was going to use the damnable Estus! I would not allow it!

Discreetly as possible, I raised my spear just slightly, channeling lightning through me, I forced it towards the tip of my spear and a lightning bolt shot out, and I choose speed over power. The undead wasn't a mere brute though, he knew that which I was going to do the moment he saw me lift my spear.

This one, however, he wasn't as lucky in dodging. He rolled to the side, but my lightning tracked him ever so slightly. Lightning was, after all, attracted to metal, something Gough had discovered. It hit upper thigh as he leapt out of the way, but didn't do as much as my more powerful bolts would have, but it served its purpose valiantly.

For one, not only did it stop him from using his Estus, he lost control of his fireball, the once brilliant flame diminished into nothing.

This gave me the chance I needed to launch forward into a series of attacks of low spear swipes and a few thrusts. He dodged a few of my attacks, got scrapped by a few others, even managing to hit me once or twice with his claymore, though it was but a scratch to me. I launched another attacks, a swipe aimed at his ankle, intent on throwing him off balance.

It landed, so with renewed valor I continued my assault. I swiped at him again, this time aiming center mass, and it landed true, causing him to stumble to the side.

Swiftly, I launched into an upwards thrust of my spear. This would end it!

…This would end it. In all my times as a knight, not once had I hesitated. Not once, be it in front of an undead or demon, I had never once hesitated. Heh, sad is it not that I didn't even hesitate to leave my comrades to confront the Abyss while I stayed behind.

By Gywn, I tried! I tried so hard to do my duty, but the images- they flashed in my head! Each and every one, Artorias's limp and broken form, the abyss hanging off of him, his crazed cries of insanity echoing all throughout the city! I imagined Sif trapped, crying out for help, anyone's help! Ciran's words echoed throughout my mind, each one doing more damage than a mere blade ever could.

I heard Gough's voice asking if I'd come to Ollacile with them, and I remembered my answer… a no devoid of emotion. I remember Gough sighing, clearly disappointed with my decision, but he said nothing, merely wishing me luck and leaving.

So by Izalith I hesitated! And that was all it took. One moment of hesitation and the greatest Dragon Slayer in the history of Lordran was bested by a mere undead.

It wasn't by the undead in front of me, no, it was by the other undead I had left Smough with. By the time I heard the cackling of lighting, it was too late. A bolt of lightning, similar to my own, only not as powerful, connected to the back of my head.

I stumbled forward, disoriented for a moment. I heard someone yell, I'm not sure who- I couldn't even make out what they said! I felt something enter in one of my unarmored weak points, through my body from the unarmored place under my armpit, moving up across my chest, near my heart. I fell forward in pain, stumbling around. I've taken worse, I told myself.

I needed to get a hold of myself! I was too vulnerable right now! I glanced down and saw a claymore was stuck underneath my armpit, the blade a good few inches deep. I could still fight like this, I wasn't done just yet! I could… but did I want to? When I looked up the undead I had been attacking had fireball in his hand about to impact my lion inspired helmet.

It was possible for me to still avoid this, to achieve victory, a quick counter attack and I would easily end this, but to what end? So I could potentially leave Artorias to the clutches of the Abyss?

Perhaps, perhaps I've done my duty long enough. I long for the embrace of the dark, something I had sworn I'd never do, but I had sworn a lot of things.

I closed my eyes, prepared for the end, the end of a life that I could no longer bear to call mine.

Before I knew what happened, I felt something large and heavy hit me in the side, my body flying somewhere, and a tremendous amount of pain! My back hit the hard stone of Anor Londo's walls, and I slid to the ground. I coughed, blood coming out of my mouth. I looked around, that was a flat weapon… I think. Was it? I saw Smough walking towards me, the other two undead were blurred in the background.

This helmet, it was getting hard to breathe. I reached up and removed it, setting it in my lap, and looked around. Why were my hands shaking? Why was everything blurry? Why was it hard to breathe? I saw Smough stop in front of me, and looked up. Good… he was here. I wasn't alone. I didn't want to be alone anymore. "F-Friend, wha-what happened? By Gwyn, it hurts…" My voice was broken and consorted, I could barely talk.

My whole body tingled in pain. "S-Smough?" I asked tentatively. He stood above me, and I saw his hammer held above his head at an angle, as if he was about to swing. What was he doing? Oh, he was defending me from the undead! My dearest friend, he was still in there. I knew he wasn't as crazy as I thought.

He was the only one who understood why I didn't go with them… yet I never seemed to talk to him much anymore. I've really been a terrible comrade, haven't I? "Smough… I am sorry." I heard something, what was it? Was he crying? Was Smough crying? Or was he laughing? I looked up, one last time. Was that Smough's hammer?

I blinked, and suddenly I was gone.

-Tristian Academy of Magic, Tristian—

"Mrs. Vallerie, you're next." When Professor Colbert called my name, I shrank back into the crowd for a moment. Then I remembered that there was nothing to be afraid of, and stood proud, like my mother would.

"Of course Mr. Colbert," I spoke, my voice laced with all the confidence I could muster, which even to myself was rather weak. Not that it mattered, what mattered what was on the inside, and I was filled with confidence!

…Telling lies too yourself wasn't exactly easy.

I let loose a small sigh, walking through the students that crowded around me into the center of the circle we all made up. I ignored the usual comments about my magic skill, all the comments filled with dislike and pity. Mostly dislike, though.

Standing in the center of the crowd, I ignored the students that took steps back away from me, instead grabbing my wand and taking a deep breathe. I could do this…

Couldn't I?

Of course I could. I was a Vallerie, daughter of Karin the Heavy Wind herself! I'd summon a great familiar, and put everyone to shame! Yes, that's it!

Lifting my wand up, I began to chant. "My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. My chosen familiar that exists somewhere in the vast universe, my divine, powerful, beautiful familiar, answer my guidance and appear!"

Cautiously I opened my eyes, and for a moment I panicked. Nothing was happening! Nothing! What was I going to do, what would I tell mother? What if I got disowned? What if-

I was cut from my panicking by a boom of thunder, and I saw glowing, yellow runes appear in the air. There was another loud boom, only this one didn't sound like thunder. It took me a moment to realize I was the cause of it.

I hit the ground- it was the ground, right?- and noticed it was soft. Why was it soft? I heard my spear twirling in the air, and I heard its "thunk" when it landed into the ground. It wasn't as loud as I thought it'd be, though.

Where was I? Where was Smough? I looked around, taking in the sights. I saw people, humans, from the looks of it. They stood all around me, all dressed the same. They had creatures with them, some I knew of some I didn't.

I scanned the crowd once more, and I heard something. Were they talking? Their lips were moving, but by Izalith I couldn't make out anything. I ignored the sounds, they were hurting my head. My eyes picked out faces in the crowd, a red headed human, a small, blue haired girl, and besides her was a… a dragon?

My eyes widened, what was I doing sitting here on the ground like some Gods forsaken fool!

Dragons, they were everywhere! I looked around, my head was spinning, but that mattered not. The dragons, they tore into my comrades, burning them into ashes, hitting them with their tails, devouring them! I saw my spear to my side, though I was hurt, one of those damnable dragons had likely hit me, I ignored the injuries and stumbled over to it.

It hurt, certainly, my body roared in protest, but it's pain was nothing compared to my hate for the dragons who slaughtered my comrades and my people!

A few of my comrades sprinted over, fitted in their silver plates, tan cape flowing behind them. I could hear the fear in their voices. One of them addressed me. "Captain Ornstein, shall we retreat?" I narrowed my eyes at the knight, he was one of the new recruits, too cowardly for his own good, though it was certainly understandable.

I saw more knights surrounding me all looking, fearful, shifting their feet, uncomfortable. These men, they were little without a leader, and they looked to me for guidance. Each and every comrade that had ever been felled when under my command, haunted me in my dreams.

But I knew, oh by Gywn I knew, one man had to bear the guilt, and for my Lord saved me, so too shall I save these good men the agony of guilt, guilt of retreat, guilt of failing, I shall take the burden. I ignored my body once more, and stood on my own, strong, confident, what a captain should be.

I saw the knights stiffen slightly, clearly anticipating what I had to say. "Nay, we shall teach these mindless beasts the powers of our Lord's holy light! With me brothers, we shan't be lulled back into eternity's embrace without a fight!" With a great deal of effort, though I made sure not to show it, I lifted my spear and channeled lightning through it. I took aim at one of the dragons, though it seemed a bit smaller than the rest.

I let my bolt fly, but the dragon dodged it. I noticed another dragon breathe its unholy fire at me, so I quickly leapt back, easily dodging the flames. "You dare to attack me, mindless beast!?" I addressed the dragon, a large one, definitely powerful.

They were always the most fun.

"Your kind who darest to imprison us far underneath the reach of the sky!?" I approached it, twirling my spear. "Our Lord and Savior, Gywn, has bestowed me a purpose, and I shall serve him most honorably." I crouched down, getting ready to pounce. "For every comrade that is felled by thy kind," I leapt high into the sky, blade ready to pierce this mindless beast, "I shall slay ten more of thee!"

The dragon seemed surprised by my speed for a split second, but managed to flap its wings and leap to the side. My blade came down a moment too late, and it dug into the ground, just before my feet hit it. When my feet hit the ground, my knees buckled, and I fell back onto my bottom.

What? That shouldn't have stopped me, I had made higher leaps! Wait, where was I? Why was I back in the ancient times? It dawned on me, I was hallucinating! Suddenly I was pulled back to the present.

I looked around, I saw an older human standing near where I had landed, catalyst held up cautiously. "W-what?" I asked, using my spear to prop me up. I looked down at my spear, and noticed the claymore still stuck in my side. In fact, it seemed to be lodged in a bit deeper.

Staring at it for a moment, I looked back up. I saw all eyes were on me, the younger humans all seemed scared. I noticed a scorch mark all the far stone walls, and it did not take a scholar to connect the metaphorical dots.

I tried to stand on my own, and get away from my spear, attempting to look less threatening, and I suppose it worked. I fell to my knees, coughed up blood, before I looked back up again. I searched the eyes of the humans, and noticed something I hadn't seen before: concern.

The older man walked towards me, and I could see him gesturing with his staff and finally I heard actually words, albeit in what seemed to be another language. He spoke once more, and with a movement of his catalyst, I felt magic in the air.

I tensed, prepared for whatever was to come. All I felt was the magic washing over me, it was having a lingering effect- wait, this magic was strong! Almost half as strong as Seathe's! That was quite the achievement. The only one in the human world who was said to have reached this point was Seeker Logan, as he was called, though he was actually more of three quarters of Seathe's strength, from what I hear. This human… he couldn't be ordinary, could he? Was he the Logan of legends?

He spoke, startling me from my thoughts. "Sir, I'm only here to help, you have nothing to fear." He reassured me, but I was having a hard time focusing. "W-Where?" I asked, and the man spoke once more, only this time I couldn't make out as much. "…Tristian, sir." I blinked, I had never heard of a place called Tristian.

I hadn't seen the world in so long, though… Yes, that must be it. I merely don't know of this place, but surely they know of me. I decided to put my life in these humans' hands, for if I did not, I'd meet my end for certain.

I closed my eye and fell onto my back, accepting the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

So, yeah, I made a story thingy.

Feedback would be appreciated, if you shoot me a review, as much as I'd love to be praised for my first story, I'd prefer if you included some criticism in there, tell me what I did right, but more importantly, tell me what I did wrong so I can improve!

Anyways, portraying a character like Ornstein who we have relatively little information on is a bit hard, so he's sort of OC, but I'm trying to portray him as I imagine he would be in the actual game. Writing Louise is pretty hard for me, so PoV's with her might be uncommon, but I do intend on including them, because, well, she's one of the main characters.

Regarding updates, because I know people are pushy about that, I hadn't been working on this story too often, I sit down and write a chapter when I'm in the mood for writing (and I can get in the mood very easily mind you, it just takes some pushing for me to actually sit down and write), so I'm hoping uploading it on here and the reviews I get will hopefully push me to work on this story more often. So no solid update schedule, but I'll try to get what updates I can.

But yeah, story thingy, I wrote it.