Work Text:
It had taken a long time for the twin princes to feel safe leaving the ruins of their once-promised kingdom. Fire had faded, yet still came the challengers to their ruined seat at the end of the world. Unkindled still desperate to fulfill their purpose, fools that clung to the edict that Fire must forever burn, and nihilists that sought to kill the last great power of the Lordran.
Lothric was under no belief that they were out of the woods just yet. He allowed his forces to rest, to begin to set watches instead of all standing at attention.
When it took a day for another challenger to appear, Lorian looked at his brother with a hopeful slack to his jaw. Lothric had no hopes until three days passed. When a week finally passed in the dark of a world without Fire, he allowed himself to breathe with relief. He offered a hand to his brother, and smiled when he found his elongated, taloned hands with minimal effort.
“The thing is done, beloved brother.” He said then. Lorian’s part of the Soul sang with wordless elation. For his part, he was too relieved to sing. He rode on his brother’s shoulders to stand before his soldiers and make the proclamation of a new age.
He didn’t know what came now. That horrified him; his entire life had been structured, purposeful, known. Even his rebellion against the Flame was very much premeditated and structured. He did not know if he could find the same structure in his new freedom. Come what may, he would discover the worth of his victory alongside his brother and whoever would follow them into the Dark.
Neither brother desired to remain in the kingdom, to say nothing of their desires of the castle where their lives had been made miserable. Lothric, sat upon his brother’s lap as Kriemhild examined it for wounds or necrosis, made clear their intentions to find a quiet corner of some forest to live out the rest of their days.
Kamui and Albert swore they would protect them evermore. The three of them had grown much too close, fighting side by side as long as they did, to be separated. The acolyte of crystal had no true calling now, beyond her fondness for the brothers she aided in asserting their right to live.
(Lothric realized as she turned her attention to him that she called them brothers and nothing more. She was always so mindful of her ps and qs, yet now… well. He supposed he held no crown any longer.)
The knights were divided on who to follow. Lorian’s second in command offered to turn Lothric into a home for those who would be adrift; a sanctuary as it had once been in ages long past. Many swore their blades to that idea, with only three being more concerned for the brothers. Lothric took no oaths from any of them.
They came willingly. The wheel was broken. The contemptible kiln would know no further souls.
The lesser soldiers he bid to loot what remained in the castle and live as they would. The old structures were gone, and as he basked in the victory over his nemesis, he swore he would do the same. Life would blossom anew now that the fading light had been disposed of. Many wept with the knowledge they would see their families soon.
He gave them all individual thanks. He held their hands, and Lorian spoke through him the words that would forever unbind them from service to the royal family. He learned their names, and at the end of it was quite exhausted.
One final night spent in the room that could well have become his tomb. The next day, he and his small cohort left the castle with not even a thought sparred for the mad king, and departed on a long and unknown path.
They traveled for some time, past the Undead Settlement to places beyond. With the end of Fire, the converged lands had slowly began to depart back to their rightful places. Kamui said he knew a perfect spot for the group to come to rest, though it was some distance. Lothric and Lorian were mounted upon a horse for much of the day as they made the slow and uncertain path onward.
Lothric seemed to always find himself holding Lorian in some way. When they rode, he held his arms to keep from following. When they rested, he was curled against him.
They were together. They were free, from Fate if not their curse. Lothric wondered if it would ever be broken. He did not know what would come of it. Whenever he came to waver, his brother’s half of their shared Soul would hold him in a way so much more than a hug and reaffirm to him that they had made the correct choice.
Now they just needed to live with the consequences.
The place Kamui had meant was an abandoned hamlet built on the banks of a tributary river, an hour’s hike from an impressive lake and what had been roughly a month’s march. Albert and one of the other knights — Aoric, a scion of burned Astora with a keen eye and a talent for music — stood guard alongside Lorian as the rest moved to scout the buildings.
Lothric tried his best to impress his impressions of the wider world into his brain. Many of the things he was seeing, hearing, tasting, experiencing for the first time. Some frightened him. He had never been fond of when storms blew through when he was safe behind stone walls and with a warm hearth, but now that he often only had whatever shelter they could quickly reach when the storms fell upon them, he had grown to fear them and the loud noises they often brought.
Yet it was not all bad. Albert had showed him how to fish. Lorian held him as he dipped one of his cooked and otherwise useless feet into a chilled stream that left him feeling somehow more purified. Kriemhild showed him some of the various herbs she collected to make poultices and potions. Without fire, there was to be no estus, and they’d have to rely on different, more strenuous prospects to heal maladies and injuries.
The prince thought it was just; it was a coward’s tool to drink that embered drink in a duel to the death.
Lorian nudged his hand. Suddenly he was back in front of the small hamlet. There were only five buildings still standing, and a half-wrecked barn for whatever meager animals they could have. From their position on the road, Lothric couldn’t tell if any of them had still intact roofs.
His brother’s half of the soul questioned Lothric about whether he liked it. He had long been blind, but through their shared soul, a sort of second sight was available to him. Just the same, he knew his brother could tell just what he thought of it. All the same, Lorian had come to prefer Lothric speak aloud. It was… nice, in a way, how much he respected his privacy.
He gently placed his hand over his brother’s as he searched for the word.
“It’s… a bit rustic, dear brother.”
Aoric gave a chuckle to that. Albert shook his head.
“There’s good wood around here, Lothric.” Albert pointed with his chin. He had little cause to wear his helmet in these quiet dark days. “You won’t want for warmth, I can tell you that.”
Lorian gave a slight grumble. His question came through Lothric’s lips. “My brother wishes to know — worrywart that he is — if we shall be kept safe from storms. Kriemhild said they had grown less predictable without Fire.”
She had wondered how the water cycle even continued in a world without a sun, but there was simply no easy way to know.
“Kamui’s not so daft as to bring us all this way if the village wasn’t able to be fixed up.” Albert countered. “I’m sure he scouted ahead to make sure there was one with a functioning roof.”
Lothric huffed at the statement. It would be just like the Black Hand to think that far ahead. He could hear him give his own counter; ‘measure twice to cut only once, Sir Albert’.
Lothric gave a slight smile at the thought he knew other people well enough to know such things. After so long being sequestered away, he had been fearful that he’d die without. Now he knew his Three Pillars better than his own father. He had been able to read Lorian fairly well while their souls were separate, but that could hardly be counted as a surprise.
Lorian moved his hand and slung it over his shoulder. He mouthed to him, his voice still gone and perhaps would forever be: ‘we have truly made it, little drake’.
He gave a slight chuckle at his sentimentality. It was only when he returned his hand to its position on the top of the blackened brass armor of his family’s, hand just barely closed around it, that he released a final bit of tension.
Fire had been extinguished for two months. He had been safe for thirty one days.
They were safe. They could heal, whatever form that took.
They were no longer princes. They were no longer Lords of Cinder. They were no longer expected to die for something, to be separate. They bore no expectations for each other, and none bore expectations of them, save that they live howsoever they will to bring joy into lives that had been for much too long bereft of it.
“Two of the homes still have working roofs.” Kamui’s sudden appearance was not as surprising to Lothric as it was for Lorian and the other two knights. “We should get the two brothers into one for the time being.”
Lorian shifted. Lothric felt his half of the soul intensely protest at the idea of being treated as a civilian. He could agree, of course. How many times had the once-prince’s spellcraft scattered the ashes of an Unkindled? He could very well take care of himself, thank you very much.
Yet… there was no danger of that, was there? There were no Unkindled that would track them. There were no Undead who would be able to mark their passage. As he and his brother had wanted, it would be the two of them and those that would aid them. Kamui spoke not from a place of wanting them protected, but a place of wanting them to be comfortable.
“I think that will be for the best.” Lothric spoke with his own voice before Lorian’s half of the Soul could make his protests known. “I am sure you will need time to assess the damage to the other buildings. We will simply slow you down.”
“It is as you said, Sir Lothric.”
‘Lothric’. He mused on the name as he shuffled onto his brother’s back. Should he retain the name, or should he claim a new one for himself? Keep it as a reminder of the things he had grown above, or discard it as he had his crown and destiny? It was not his name in truth; he was nothing more than the Holy King of Lothric. It had been Lorian, beloved Lorian, who had turned it into a name that meant him. Even if he fought it at first, by the time their souls were one, he embraced it.
The other half of his soul gave him another warm smile of assurance. Whatsoever he chose, his brother would love him all the more for it.
The house was a two room situation, with the upstairs being used for storage. Once it might’ve contained food and things of note. Now it was only empty chests and rotten fruits and meats. They’d at least have room to store Lorian’s armor.
The bottom floor had a hearth, a kitchen, and space for two beds. Perfectly enough for the two of them, or so they thought. Lorian placed his greatsword within the hearth, leaned against the walls of the chimney, and bid it to be lit. The space warmed immediately, though the countless cobweb shadows danced in a fascinating way across the walls.
He found himself sat on the edge of a hard and uncomfortable bed of straw and hide. He found he did not hate it; it supported him much better than the soft one he had known in the castle. His tail laid across his lap as he observed Lorian begin to remove his armor, piece by piece, for what Lothric hoped would be the last time.
“You have always been much too kind to wear such things.” He spoke to break the silence, mostly. It had become his job once their souls were joined and Lorian lost his words. It was awkward at first — there were no right or wrong answers in ‘casual conversation’ — but he had grown to enjoy it.
Lorian gave a slight smile, the burn from the Demon Prince shifting and pulled with it.
“Have you ever given much thought to what you would be, had we not been princes? I could see you excelling in what ever you wished to pursue, dear brother.”
He gave a voiceless chuckle. “My options are much more limited in a world of Dark.”
“Hmm. You could still find a way to tend a garden, I am sure. It would be a more delightful one than father’s, of that I am more than certain.”
“Perhaps. Kriemhild says soon new flora will blossom.” His side of the soul brightened with an energy the younger brother had not experienced in some time. “And yourself, little drake?”
Lothric leaned back, colorless eyes already beginning to trace and make familiar the patterns on the roof above. “I had not truly considered it. Wished it, for certain — but never gave thought to what good I would be.”
Lorian put his gnarled helm — the crown that had once been the symbol of his royal blood — on the thin wooden table in the center of the room. He turned back to him, cataract-laden eyes focused solely on his own. Lothric gave a relieved sort of laugh.
He did not need to be joined to his brother to know what he was going to say. Indeed, he was going to say it anyway.
Whatever came next, whatever challenges were to be found, whatever questions would beg answered, the two brothers would figure it out together.