Chapter Text
How long had they been thus - wasting away at the end of the world, little more than shells of their former selves? They had grown up hearing legends of those that came before them, of what they accomplished in their prime: of Gwyn and the First Flame, of all his descendents, of those who swore to uphold his legacy. Yet Lothric had never seen the glory that the tales described; not in his lifetime. Instead he had grown up swathed in the suffocating reminders and expectations of a history long forgotten, embellished and idealized in the hopes of reclaiming a reality that had never been. He had seen what remained of the legends he'd grown up with; had seen how far they'd fallen. He doubted that they would even recognize their former selves. Yet, could the same not be said now of him and his brother? Ghosts now that remained haunting the crumbling ruins of their destiny, refusing to be laid to rest, even as the world decayed around them.
Just as the figures he had grown up with refused to be forgotten, their legacy etched into every stone, now they too served as a constant reminder of promises unfulfilled. They who had once been beheld as saviors, now cursed for forsaking their duty, simply by refusing to perpetuate the cycle of lies and undue sacrifice.
What those who remained would never understand is the price that they had paid for their act of defiance, for their freedom. All they had was borrowed time. A rotating hourglass that was reset each time they heard another Unkindled awaken and begin fighting through the castle halls; an hourglass that had long since been cracked, grains of sand spilling forth at a rate they could never know, the time they were permitted less and less each time it was reset.
There was silence that had settled over the castle at the moment; the last Unkindled had faded to ash beneath the cleave of Lorian's blade, the castle returned to its stagnant state once more. Lothric had lost track of how many Unkindled they had banished, their appearance little more than a reminder of the inevitable, more useful as a measure of Lorian's rapid decay with each death he befell at their hands. A testament of Lothric's failures.
Lorian sought Lothric out now, as he always did after the Unkindled were gone. He was silent as he waited for Lothric to remove his helmet with unsteady hands before moving to help strip him of his armor so that he might tend to whatever wounds Lorian had endured this time on his behalf. Lothric forced himself to be methodical in his approach these days, quickly closing the wounds with a miracle, tracing his hands over Lorian to ensure he had not missed anything.
His brother's skin had once been hot to the touch, as if the flame itself coursed through his veins, a source of warmth in even the coldest of nights. Now, even when the flames trailed across his skin, Lorian remained cold to the touch, held back from the frigid embrace of death only by the curse that bound them. By Lothric's refusal to let him go.
Lothric reached forward to hold Lorian's face in his hands, his brother's eyes remaining shut as he turned his face further into Lothric's touch. Even now, even after all he had suffered through, after all he had lost as a consequence of Lothric's decisions, still he had unwavering trust in Lothric. It was hard to say how much of Lorian remained, impossible to know how much of his dear brother had managed to escape the rot of repeated death. He had already lost the use of his legs and most of his eyesight, had lost his ability to even speak, and Lothric suspected too his mind had begun to fade. In the crushing sea of despair, that loss was perhaps the one which weighed the heaviest upon Lothric's heart, threatening to pull him beneath the tides and drown him.
He carded his fingers lightly through Lorian's hair before turning his brother's face up towards him. His eyes remained closed, as they almost always were these days, scars stretching over the expanse of skin normally hidden beneath his helmet. Lothric could not help the part of himself that longed to see his brother's eyes, clear and fierce and determined, even if only one more time.
Lothric traced his hand down over Lorian's eyelids, over his cheek, until his fingertips came to rest lightly on his lips. Most of all, Lothric missed his brother's voice; the dulcet tone that had become such a comforting sound in his life as he conversed with Lothric on topics ranging from the banal to the treasonous. He missed the way Lorian's voice had sounded when he lowered it, speaking softly in the way that had always been reserved for Lothric alone as he uttered confessions and sweet nothings in Lothric's ear. He missed the all too rare and eagerly stolen moments when they had been twined together, his brother's half-asleep voice murmuring praise as he pried Lothric apart beneath his hands.
Gently, Lothric pressed his fingers against his lips. Lorian did not hesitate as he opened his mouth, allowing Lothric's fingers in. Lothric marveled at his willingness to even now permit Lothric to do as he pleased, always compliant, never denying him anything. Lothric watched the way Lorian closed his mouth around his fingers, felt the way his teeth pressed lightly against his skin, yet his tongue remained unmoving even beneath his touch. Lorian did not raise his own hands, keeping them by his side as Lothric traced over his teeth, beneath his tongue - though to what end even Lothric could not say. Perhaps he was searching for what it would take, here at the end of all things, for Lorian to finally push him away.
Eventually Lothric pulled his hand free, shifting to take Lorian's hands to guide him up beside him. Slowly, Lothric lowered him down on his back, waiting until he was settled before climbing on top and resting over his hips. His eyes were drawn to a droplet of saliva on Lorian's bottom lip from when he had pulled his hand away; he leaned in now, hair spilling out from beneath his hood as he lightly pressed his lips to Lorian's, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. His brother's hands moved at last, lightly resting on Lothric's hips then sliding up his back to pull Lothric closer.
This much, at least, had not changed. Lorian's hands were familiar as they glided over his spine, seeking to close the distance between them before eventually curling around the back of Lothric's head. Lothric broke away and shifted to press their foreheads together, hands braced against Lorian's bare chest. Exhaling a shaky breath, Lothric was unable to stop the tremor in his hands as his mind strayed back to cold and dangerous waters.
He could feel every bump, every cut, every gash of scar tissue from the wounds Lothric had healed and half-healed, the ones he had held together beneath his own blood-slicked hands these past years in his desperation to keep Lorian alive. Though…
"This could hardly be considered living, could it?" Lothric asked with a grimace, tracing his hands upwards to Lorian's collarbone.
Lorian did not answer; Lothric knew he couldn't, even though a part of him still desperately hoped that he might. The silence that engulfed them - the absence of Lorian's voice - was suffocating, driving Lothric's hands even further upwards. Thumbs gliding over the perfect scar tissue that spanned the width of brother's throat, Lothric loathed the reminder it served now, a perfect mirror of the one carved across his own.
"Do you still want this?" he asked, not clarifying what, stumbling over the words as he curled his hands around Lorian's neck. He did it in the way that his brother had shown him once; a lifetime ago and in a far different context. Just beneath the jaw, on either side of his throat, Lothric pushed down with his thumbs - just enough force to hear the rasping gasp of Lorian's breathing. Deep breaths turning shallow.
It would be a mercy. If not for Lorian then for himself, to spare them both from watching as Lorian lost more and more of himself. Until there was nothing left. It had been Lothric's decision after all, to spurn the First Flame, to stand in defiance of the world's expectations, to doom them all. But Lorian did not need to suffer further for Lothric's own hubris, for believing his life, his own selfish happiness, could be worth this price.
He pressed his thumbs in further, weak hands already beginning to tremble from the strain of even such a simple action.
Lothric pressed his forehead further against Lorian's, listening to his breathing slow further, straining now to take air into his lungs. Lorian's hands remained curled around the back of Lothric's head, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away; simply allowing Lothric to do as he pleased. Lothric could feel a sob clawing like a wounded beast at his chest, at his throat, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it in. Even as he squeezed his eyes shut, he could not stop the hot tears that welled up, threatening to spill forth.
"Has it been enough?" A traitorous tear slipped free, sliding down his face and onto Lorian's cheek beneath, his voice cracking like glass as he asked, "Have we lived enough?"
More followed, spilling freely, and Lothric numbly realized he could not recall the last time he had actually cried as it unleashed in a torrential outpour from him now. He choked back the heaving gaps, shoulders quaking as Lorian's hands fell from his head, thumbs futilely swiping the tears from his cheeks.
"I could spare you now. Or I could spare the both of us, by blade or by hand it matters not, as long as I am the first," Lothric offered, barely more than a whisper, the thought coming more readily these days to his mind in their darkest hours. And yet, in spite of his words, his hands loosened, still trembling as he confessed, "But I am a coward. Selfish. Even now, even if it would be a mercy, I cannot bear to lose what remains of you. Forgive me."
One of Lorian's hands remained cupped against Lothric's cheek while the other pried Lothric's hands from his throat, taking both his wrists to hold between them. With a gentleness he did not deserve, he lightly pushed Lothric's head up, breathing ragged. Then, impossibly tender, he pressed his lips to Lothric's forehead as if to convey everything he could no longer say with words - but Lothric could hear them all the same. Shame overwhelmed him at allowing himself to even entertain such a moment of weakness.
Lorian let go of his wrists, rolling them over until they were on their sides and dragged Lothric closer, sturdy arms engulfing him as he buried his face in Lorian's neck, making himself impossibly small as he curled against his chest. Lorian held him, pressing his lips against the top of Lothric's head - his own way of showing that he was still here. That he wanted to stay.
It would be easier, if they did not love so deeply.