Yo nerds what up

Its been a minute since the last update.

I've been having a really hard time tbh. One of my close friends was in a car accident and I had to attend a eighteenth birthday memorial party. Safe to say I'm still torn up about it.

But, in more cheerful news! ! I've got the next few chapters already in the works and I swear it won't take half the time it did. Drangleic Castle won't know what hit em. I'm so stoked for Aldia's keep too, considering that's where Luca's story ends in game. Rest assured it is in no way the end now.

And i'd like to thank you all for sticking with me! ! I know its frustrating when fic authors don't update, so thanks.

! ! ! Warning for being a little hollowed? it's not graphic but hollowing in general is pretty brutal so. Fair warning if you wanna skip that part.

"...a thousand?" You ask, struggling to remember the right answer to get Gilligan to put the ladder down. You don't know if its just the Curse or the fact that being near Gilligan makes you nervous.

He's just... Weird.

"Why, you! I'm trying to help you, you know… Have you no gratitude? Downright rude, really!" He all but snaps, and your fingers itch for the hilt of your weapon. "But I've…I've…I've got a soft heart so, I'll let you off, this once…"

How many ellipses can one man use in a single question? You should ask Shanalotte if you can outlaw a way of speaking. Although, knowing her, she might not get the whole... Joke thing. She's gotta learn to loosen up.

Not that it's her fault! Hundreds of years of waiting for a new monarch could definitely chip away at ones sense of humor.

Gilligan coughs, making you nearly jump out of your skin. This makes him laugh, but you cut through it with a quick, "How much?" Mentally focusing on your souls, you figure few thousand wont make much of a dent. God bless your insatiable avarice for shiny things.

"Double your offer." He answers immediately, eyes narrowing when he sees your hesitation.

You walked right into that, you will admit. "Fine." You agree with a huff, gathering the correct amount if souls and dropping them into his palm. You're careful not to actually touch him as you do so, your creeper radar warning you against it.

You busy yourself pursuing his 'shop' while he does whatever the hell he does to get the ladder in place. Honestly, you don't think you want to stew about how rickety that thing looks. You'll just use a homeward bone to get back to the bonfire, given you make it down there in without falling.

At least you can see the Harvest Valley from here. So if you do fall, you won't be falling for too long.

Down the gutter, on the other hand...

You hate everything about this situation.

Fuck the rats and everything they scamper for.

How in the world did they get so many statues? Did they have to commission some poor sculptor to create dozens of rat statues?

You know this is Drangleic, and nothing should really surprise you at this point but seriously? Walking backwards is about twelve times more frustrating and dangerous with the statues in your way, and you do not want to give the rats an opening. Those teeth don't look anywhere near clean.

You grind your teeth together in both annoyance and frustration as more rats pour out of the walls. Your notes definitely didn't mention how hectic this boss fight is turning out to be.

Okay, okay, think, which one look likes the boss?

You quickly look over your options, narrowing your eyes at the assortment of nearly identical roden-

Oh.

"Of fucking course." You hiss. "The rat has a fohawk. Didn't even do it right."

Drangleic has thrown some weird shit at you, but man... this might just take the cake. Also, apparently you're not above criticizing a rat's hairstyle. You're going to be a fantastic monarch.

You continue dancing around both the horde of rats and their statues, focusing your efforts on the main rat. It's easier with one target, and you're happy (and disgusted by the smell) to note the rats aren't exactly versed in stop-drop-and-roll tactics. The fire leaps across their fur, the close quarters only aiding you.

You're oddly thankful you decided to take a bath before taking on the gutter, knowing your half-soaked clothes are the reason you don't catch spark along with them. Being killed by your own magic doesn't sound fun.

Try explaining that one to Rosabeth.

Your lips quirk as you try to imagine telling your teacher you let a bunch of rats turn the tides on you. She'd either be furious and disappointed, or die of laughter. You're willing to bet it'd be the latter. She wouldn't let you live it down.

Once the main rat is down for the count, you watch in mild amusement as the smaller ones rush out. They don't even try to get revenge.

Smart rats.

You nod to yourself as you make your way to the exit, only giving the rat king a two finger salute as you pass. There's no reason to break his heart again by turning down the rat covenant invitation.

You press on very carefully (those falls are much more daunting without a screen, honestly). And the bridge moves underneath you. You don't know why expected anything else as you fall backwards into the slush. You scramble up as soon as you've gotten your bearings back, raising your shield instinctively.

Okay, forwards or back? You think, flicking a throwing knife at the nearest exploding prisoner.

You hear the chains a second before there's another one, this time from the other doorway. Of course, the hollows are split into two groups. One group would just make it too easy.

Muttering some less than monarch-y words, you rush to the nearest exit. Or what you assume is an exit. Your notes did mention one being a dead end.

Oh, thank god, you think when the large, sunken structure comes into view around the corner. The prisoners aren't exactly the best trackers, thankfully, and they give up chasing you down when you hop onto a lower platform. Out of sight, out of mind!

You take a moment to wallow in your freshly cleaned outfit being completely ruined before changing again. You're suddenly very thankful for the unequip option, because pealing muddy clothes off isn't really what you want to be doing right now. You'll have to scrub it when you get back to Majula.

This lord path is just... Awesome.

It's safe to say 'you're not exactly in a good mood' by the time you get down to Black Gulch is a colossal understatement. You're bloodthirsty. Plain and simple.

You light the bonfire with a scowl and promptly crash down next to it, trying to reign in the part of you that wants to kill something, to tear it apart.

You can't remember how many times you fell while trying to make your way down here, having completely forgotten what the correct path was. Your notes just say either left, right, or down, which you suppose might've helped you at one point. Goodness knows after your third attempt you can't even get the letters to stand still, let alone decipher them into directions.

So this is what being hollowed is like, you realize, glancing down at your less than sightly hands. You're not sure if you would call them decayed at this point, but certainly not healthy. The Ring of Binding is on your pointer finger, but that only stops loss of health. It doesn't have a real cosmetic modifier.

You wonder why the bonfire can't heal hollowing, while it can easily banish the poison coursing through your veins and knit up the gash caused by one of the dark weapon wielding hollows.

Bonfires are weird.

This entire situation is weird.

Time passes, you know, but you aren't sure how much. You only notice when someone joins you in the bonfire room and you lunge at them, dagger pointed for their neck, that maybe you should use an effigy.

You decide that yes, that's a really good idea, when you pass through the "intruder" and realize its just a ghost. Your dagger clatters to the floor upon impact, the sound making you flinch. Your hands hurt.

You shakily pull yourself up off the ground and open your inventory. Right, just... Crush it, you remind yourself. The effigy shatters between your chest and palm, the warmth immediately going to work.

It feels like it takes longer this time, but once its over, you can take a deep breath and make fists without wanting to murder, and that is a definite plus.

You feel... Clearer.

And sorta like you're forgetting something.

It takes you a few times circling the path between the first rock worm and the bonfire for you to remember Lucatiel! and where she's located. You find it's much easier to make the drop without having to do it with a controller.

You stumble when you land, scraping both your hands (again) on the floor to keep yourself from face planting. It doesn't hurt that much but the sting is enough to make you mutter curses as you stand.

Lucatiel is watching you around the corner when you glance back up, and you don't even need to see her face to know she's trying not to laugh. "Hello to you too." She greets.

You didn't really plan on throwing your arms around her like some cliche romcom, but stranger things have happened. "Lucatiel! Lucatiel, Lucatiel, oh, I've missed you." You cheer. Heedless of her armor, you press as close as possible.

"Its been what? Six days?" She asks, arms snaking around your waist.

"It feels like months." You respond. "And you don't even want to know how many times I died trying to find my way down here."

"No, I do not." She agrees matter-of-factly. "I'd rather not relive the time I had to watch you fall."

You don't bother replying, well aware there's no way for you to help her with that. The two of you are both Undead, and like it or not, both of you will continue dying. Instead you press your face into her shoulder, allowing yourself to relax for the first time since entering the Grave of Saints. "Missed you." You remind her quietly.

She pauses, laying her head on top of yours as best she can with the hat/mask still on. You appreciate her effort. "Admittedly, I missed you too. It's strange being without you at this point."

You want to make some silly "well don't you know how to flatter somebody" comment, but you settle for silence. It's nice, just being close to her. It pains you to realize you almost forgot that, forgot her during your hollowed episode.

This time, when you fail to notice time passing, its not because you can't concentrate. You soak up Lucatiel's warmth, trying to will yourself to release her. We have work to do, some quiet and easily ignored part of you says.

Lucatiel's more important, another argues.

She kisses you and the mental argument grinds to a standstill.

Oh.

You didn't even notice her take off the mask.

Not that you're complaining, but you can hardly kiss her back through your surprised laughter. "Luca." You murmur.

She pulls back just enough to inform you, "Yes, I know, we've a Lord to kill." Her words are hot against your mouth, making your heart stutter and begin again in triple time. You have no arguments when she moves in for another kiss.

You've missed this too.

You tell her so in between her insistent kisses, while a very small part of you says slow down. You don't want to come off as clingy after all, and its not out of the question for the recent return to human to be affecting your emotions.

Or, you know, Lucatiel's hands at your waist. That could definitely be clouding your judgement. Her leather clad fingers stop at the edge of your shirt, hesitating.

And fuck, is that a tempting possibility. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess as you go through the pros and cons, only to realize you're in Black Gulch. Now, you never claimed to be much of a romantic, but you want more than this.

It still takes all your will power to pull away from her, resting your hands over hers to keep them still. "Lord Soul." You murmur.

She responds with a very un-Lucatiel-like scoff, obviously irritated. "Must you be so level-headed?"

"I am, like, the exact opposite of level headed right now, believe me." You laugh breathlessly, pressing one last kiss to her cheek. "But we have things to kill, and a brother waiting for you back at Majula."

"Of course," She kisses your forehead before pulling her hands out from under yours to fix her mask. You just try to steady your breathing. How she has such an effect on your when you've murdered actual immortal beings, you'll never know.

You press your hands to your chest, focusing on the souls swirling just under the surface. It's oddly comforting, and just reinforces your reason for being here. "Okay, so, fire and a butcher knife."

Lucatiel tilts her head your way, her voice the tiniest bit worried, "It uses pyromancy?"

"No, there's like fire traps, from what I can remember. We've just gotta stay out of em." You assure her quickly, your own pyro hand warming. It would be a huge pain if two Lords were resistant to fire magic.

The two of you make your way to the ledge in silence, with you mostly just trying to remember the previous times you've fought him and Lucatiel... You're not actually sure what Lucatiel is thinking about.

You break a butterfly when you get there, smiling brilliantly at your girlfriend when she tilts her head in confusion.

"Once again, couldn't you use your pyromancies?" She hums.

"Yeah, but this is much more fun. Watch me." You press one last kiss to her mask before jumping down. You make quick work of dodging those demonic plecostomus, and maybe amp the dramatics up as you light their oil spills. Maybe.

But it's definitely only for your own amusement, and not the laughter you can hear from the ledge.

You stand back once they're all lit, hands on your hips as you proudly watch the enemies continue to try and hide in their mini lakes. You'd almost feel bad for them if not for the whole "Trying to kill you" bit.

Lucatiel makes her way over to you as their numbers dwindle, her laughter having ceased. "You're horrible," She says mock seriously.

You grin at her, declaring, "I know. That was super cool though, right?"

"Hot, actually." She corrects, motioning towards the fires.

Did...

Did Lucatiel just call me hot?

Your laughter is completely involuntary, and Lucatiel scolds you about keeping quiet as you try to control yourself. "Sweetheart-" You interrupt, "Luca, you can't just call me hot, right out of the blue, I'll die, Luca."

She huffs. "What does hot mean then?"

"Sexually attractive, generally speaking." You say, unable to keep the smile off your face. If only you could see Lucatiel's reaction. Her shoulders do that thing she does when she's embarrassed, so you know she must be blushing, but still. You'd like to see it.

"Oh. Oh." She says, hands curling into loose fists.

Your smile widens. "Oh?"

It takes her a minute to respond, and even then she just says, "L-lord Soul. We're going to go kill the Rotten." She words it like an order, laying a hand on your shoulder in order to push you towards to fog wall.

You allow her to do so without complaint, shaking with effort not to laugh. "You called me hot."

"Monarch." She responds flatly. You know you're in trouble when she uses your title.

"You wanna kiss me." You sing back.

She takes a deep breath. "I want you to kill the Rotten."

"And give you smooches because I'm super hot."

She mumbles something about insufferable leaders while you enter the fog wall.

True.