Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dark Sun Gwyndolin

Word Count: 5.584

Summary: Tempest wants to cheer Ornstein up and forms a plan.

(Author's note: It is the second part of the previous chapter, which I just couldn't fit in there anymore, or the chapter would have gotten too massive. I hope you enjoy.)

After Ornstein had eaten his dinner, praising the pudding for not being too sweet, but the exact right amount and commenting on how much Ciaran would have liked it, him and Tempest spend the rest of the evening talking.

They didn't talk about any great feelings, but simply shared stories about their lives. Ornstein told Tempest about days that he had spend with the other knights of Gwyn or his silver knights or told stories about the dragon war, remembering quite a few fights about the dragon heads in his trophy room.

Tempest in return told Ornstein about the most hilarious stories in the tavern and about how he had spent his life, who his friends had been and what he had done in his free time, which mostly had been experimenting new recipes. He always had loved cooking.

As Ornstein asked him if he never had trained with a weapon, Tempest told him that his mom had taught him to to hold a sword, so that he could defend himself, but he never had been very good at it.

He still didn't knew how he had made it to this point.

"If I wouldn't come back from the dead, I wouldn't have made it past the Asylum Demon.", Tempest grinned.

"Don't forget, that a lot of Undead go hollow before they reach their goal.", Ornstein said. "Little Storm, you managed to move on despite every setback. Maybe that is why you deserve the title of Chosen Undead, even though you are not a knight in shining armour."

You are my knight in shining armour., Tempest thought but didn't spoke it out. Also, if Ornstein would be his knight in shining armour, then he would catch him and save him from danger, but they were more like partners, fighting alongside each other, but Ornstein had caught him and saved him, so... Tempest bathed a bit in the fantasy until Ornstein broke him out of it, asking if he still listened.

Eventually, Ornstein was too tired and exhausted to continue their conversation. Tempest wished him a good night and then left his room, carefully closing the door behind him. With the sun having vanished, nothing but an illusion of Gwyndolin, Ornstein had told him, the cathedral was dark and felt rather creepy.

Tempest could go to his own room and try to sleep, but he didn't feel like it. It often was hard falling asleep as an Undead. His body didn't need sleep anymore. He admired Siegmeyer who could fall asleep anywhere, despite being undead, but Tempest felt too agitated to go to sleep.

Instead, he decided to burn some energy. He first tended to the herbal garden, thinking about the meal he should prepare for breakfast and then went through the cathedral and parried every single knight.

Once the silver knights were gone, Tempest rested at the bonfire, to refill his Estus and heal any injuries he had suffered, only to repeat the whole thing. After he had rested three times at the bonfire, he finally felt calm enough to go to bed. At least killing all the silver knights over and over again had given him a good amount of souls. Though, when he was walking to his room, he came across the wooden box.

Tempest stopped in front of it. The silver knights once had used this box to ask Ornstein questions. Later the box must have been used by Smough to give Ornstein uplifting messages. Tempest himself had picked up on that tradition and though Ornstein had never mentioned it, he had looked happier when he saw Tempest's little notes.

Tempest saw the little blank notes resting near the box and wrote a message. He didn't knew when Ornstein would empty the box out, Gwyndolin had prescribed bed rest to him and Ornstein probably only would get up to use the privy, but the message was there and Ornstein would see it one day.

"I love you."

That was what Tempest had wrote.

He stared at his message and then crossed the words out as quickly as possible.

No, he couldn't say it. He knew that Ornstein wasn't feeling the same way for him.

And if he confessed, then he wanted for it to be in person. Maybe he would confess before they would go to the kiln, their last mission before they would part.

Maybe...

Tempest crumbled the message and tossed it in a bin that was standing near the ask box. He then grabbed for another blank note and wrote another thing.

"I am so glad that I have met you."

Looking it over once more, Tempest folded the message and put it into the box. He then moved to his room and laid down in the bed, still unable to sleep, his head and heart full of unspoken feelings.

The next three days played out pretty much the same. Tempest would cook for Ornstein. They would talk a bit. Ornstein would get to sleep and Tempest could do whatever he wanted, what was mostly practicing fighting the silver knights. He also tried to fight against the Royal Sentinels a bit, but they often managed to get him and Tempest didn't want to run out of humanity.

While it was rather quiet and peaceful, Tempest actually found it a bit... boring.

Huh, had he gotten used to the thrill of losing his life (but not really) at any given moment? Did his body and mind need to be in grave danger to feel some excitement?

No, that wasn't what Tempest missed. He missed journeying alongside Ornstein. While the both of them spend the mealtimes with each other and talked a bit, Ornstein still hadn't opened up to Tempest. Tempest had told Ornstein almost everything about himself and how it had been for him once he had turned undead.

Ornstein still shut him out.

While Tempest could only assume what pain the dragon slayer had went through, he just wished that Ornstein would share it with him. They were friends, were they not? Friends did share their burdens with each other. Sure, Tempest would have liked for Ornstein to be more than a friend, but... he couldn't be a good friend to Ornstein if he never would open up to him.

It was one of these moments where Ornstein usually was asleep when Tempest wandered through the cathedral, growing more and more frustrated with Ornstein. He eventually entered the conference room of the knights and looked at the three paintings on the wooden boards, that Ornstein himself had placed there.

He sat himself down on the chair on the end of the table and had to realize that he couldn't even look over the edge of the table. After Tempest had organized some books to sit on, he cleared his throat and spoke: "The conference of the knights of Gwyn and the Chosen Undead is hereby opened."

Only silence greeted him, of course. The knights of Gwyn were all dead, besides Ornstein and he was currently sleeping in his room.

"The topic of our conference shall be how we make Ornstein feel better.", Tempest said. "How can we make him open up? He will never feel better if he won't open up. He is driving me crazy!"

Tempest banged both of his fists on his table and looked at the wooden board of Artorias. "Sir Artorias, what did you usually do to cheer Ornstein up?"

Tempest was only greeted with silence.

"Lady Ciaran, how did you act when Ornstein was hiding things from you?"

As intensely as Tempest stared at her wooden board, she didn't answer.

"Sir Gough...", Tempest said, but didn't finish the question. They wouldn't answer, none of them would answer him. They weren't here anymore, he was just talking to paintings, paintings that Ornstein put up to make himself feel less lonely.

"I know nothing about you.", Tempest said and laid his head on the table, the books below him shifting, forcing him to keep his balance. "I have barely met you. I also know nothing about Ornstein. I have met him, but he refuses to let me know him. Completely, I mean."

Tempest sighed and raised his head again, staring at the ceiling of the conference room: "Am I just wasting my time...?"

"When Ornstein was feeling down, I usually would give him cookies.", a dark and gentle voice suddenly spoke, startling Tempest so much that he fell alongside the books down from the chair.

As he searched for the source of the voice, he saw the wolf knight standing there, that was Artorias, not even the Artorias corrupted by the Abyss, his cape was intact, he stood proud and straight and there was a warm smile on his face.

"I would usually find him and talk to him when he couldn't sleep in the night." The sharp, clear voice was one that Tempest recognized, even though he only had talked to her briefly, back in Oolacile. Ciaran was standing there, her face obscured by her mask, but her posture relaxed, gripping the wooden board which depicted her painted self.

"And I would make sure that he didn't overwork himself and got something to eat." Tempest recognized the low rumble in an instance and stared at Gough, almost too big for the room.

"How... how can this be?", he asked and raised a finger to point at them. "You guys are dead. I saw at least one of you die... I was the one who killed you, how...?!" Tempest's voice trailed off as he pointed at Artorias and then all three figures in front of him vanished.

"My apologies.", Gwyndolin stepped out from behind Gough's wooden board, or more slithered. "I didn't want to scare you. Ornstein just always hated when I did this."

"This... this was an illusion?!", Tempest finally found his words and then he blushed. "How much have you witnessed from this?"

"Chosen Undead, be assured, I don't think lowly of you.", Gwyndolin said, lowering themselves down in the chair opposite of Tempest. "I came to look after Ornstein's wound and when I saw you wandering the cathedral, I got... curious... When you started to talk to the images of the knights, I couldn't control myself and had to cast their illusions."

"So these illusions were...", Tempest started, but didn't finish the sentence.

"How I remember them, yes.", Gwyndolin said. "I admit they might not be perfect... we tend to idealize the dead... they surely all had their flaws, but I can assure you, their advice has been genuine. They always have looked out for Ornstein and Ornstein has looked out for them."

"There is so much I don't know...", Tempest said.

"While I could tell you all about what I know about the other knights of Gwyn, you want to hear it from Ornstein.", Gwyndolin stated. That hadn't even been a question.

Tempest simply nodded.

"Give him some time.", Gwyndolin said. "But also don't feel bad speeding the process up a bit. I should return to the tomb. My apologies again for startling you, Chosen Undead."

With a flick of their catalyst Gwyndolin was gone and Tempest sat in the conference room for a while longer, thinking about what he could do.

In the span of the next few hours, a plan formed in his head. Tempest searched in his belongings until he found a certain item and then he flipped through Artorias' recipe book.

He stopped at the recipe that was labelled with "Ornstein's favourite."

It was an apple pie. Tempest carefully took note about what ingredients he needed and as he went over the recipe, he tried to memorize all the steps. As he read, he laid his eyes on the note that had touched him so much when he first had come across the recipe.

"Because of his teeth, Ornstein doesn't like to eat fruit, they are difficult for him. But with the apple pie, his teeth aren't getting in the way. It is the perfect opportunity for Ornstein to enjoy apples."

"You cared so much about him.", Tempest whispered at the recipe book, as if he was talking to Artorias. "What would you think when you would see Ornstein in this state? You surely would have tried to cheer him up."

Tempest closed the book and get up. "How ironic that it was your death that left Ornstein in this state..."

Tempest went to the pantry and searched for all the ingredients he would need for the pie. Flour, butter, eggs, apples obviously, sugar and everything else that he would need to get the best taste out of the pie.

Once he had everything, he brought it to the kitchen. It was still dark outside, so he still had time to finish it before Ornstein would wake. Then, Tempest would have a pleasant breakfast surprise for him.

Sitting down in the kitchen, Tempest started with the pie, he peeled the apples, he put all the ingredients together to mix the dough (and his arm felt like it wanted to fall off after whisking the dough so much), he prepared the baking form, asking himself if the giant blacksmith smithed it. He should just go and ask him the next time he made his rounds to the cathedral, the blacksmith seemed to enjoy some idle chatter.

After all the steps were done and the apples and the dough were in the same baking form, all that was left was baking the pie. Tempest put it into the oven, got the fire going and now... he had to wait.

After he had cleaned up, Tempest flipped through Artorias' book another time. In a sense, it made him feel closer to the wolf knight. He never might have known him, only having met him at his worst, but reading the book, that was like a part of Artorias, made Tempest feel like he could understand him a little better. It showed him more about who the wolf knight had been as a person. He wasn't only the fierce and strong knight, he also was a gentle caring soul who liked to bake.

It was the same as with Ornstein honestly. Ornstein also was more than the knight and the dragon slayer, there was a delicate flower under this armour, clearly afraid to bloom. He was terrible at cooking, but amazing in the arts. He disliked dogs, but he liked sheep. He also liked to eat, especially dishes that he never had tried before. Furthermore, he had a very weird taste that made Tempest cringe only thinking about it.

He was awfully shy, some subjects he barely could talk about. Even though his face was hidden under a mask, he would blush a lot under this helmet, Tempest just knew it. He liked to take care of the herbal garden and he cared a lot about this city. So much that he had stayed in it for centuries to protect it, even though the Chosen Undead never could have come.

Now the Chosen Undead had come, even though Tempest still felt uncomfortable with this title. He was hardly chosen, he just had managed to try over and over and over again. Maybe that he wasn't a knight or warrior was his advantage. He never had expected to win, so he didn't had a problem with trying over and over again until he had enough and would go hollow.

Only after he had regained the lordvessel and felt that there was too much on stake to just abandon the mission had he searched for help.

Back during their fight, Ornstein probably wouldn't even have dreamed off that the two of them would team up. Tempest had to be honest with himself, he also had never dreamed about it. When he had stood outside Gwyndolin's door he had planned to suggest Solaire as the Chosen Undead, he had everything Tempest didn't, he was strong, he had a purpose and he actually knew how to fight.

Instead, Gwyndolin had told Ornstein to help Tempest out.

A few weeks must have passed since that fateful day, but for Tempest it felt like more time had passed. It hadn't been easy at first, with their mutual disdain, but then... they had become friends.

Every day and every mission had been so much more fun since then.

Tempest didn't want for it to ever be over. He wanted to travel with Ornstein forever.

"But...", he said to himself. "Once we are at the Kiln, we need to part. Ornstein will go on a journey and I...", he trailed off.

He didn't even know what it meant to link the flame.

But Gwyn had never came back.

Tempest shivered at his thoughts. He didn't want to think about it, not yet.

A delicious smell filled the air and Tempest sat himself in front of the oven, watching as the pie finished baking. Once it looked like Artorias had described it in his book, he got it out and left it on the kitchen counter for cooling.

The hour or so that it needed for the pie to cool and Anor Londo to get basked in the eternal light of the twilight sun once again, Tempest spent nervously cleaning his weapons over and over again.

Once Tempest had determined that the pie was cool enough to safely eat, he carefully carried it to Ornstein's room. He knocked against the door three times with his foot.

There was no response.

"Ornstein? Are you awake? I am coming in.", Tempest warned and waited around a minute longer to give Ornstein time to either respond or put some clothes on, to spare him some embarrassment should he be naked right now, for whatever reason.

After Tempest had opened the door with some difficulty, balancing the pie over his head, he entered the room to see that Ornstein wasn't present at all. No wonder that he hadn't answered the door.

"Maybe he's on the privy.", Tempest mused to himself and sat himself down on the chair next to the bed. The bed wasn't made, so Tempest guessed that Ornstein really had only gotten up recently and simply needed to take care of the needs of his still living body. Though, after Tempest had waited for around ten minutes he grew both impatient and worried.

"What's the matter, Ornstein, you are taking awfully long. Are you constipated or what?", Tempest mused, being absolutely sure that Ornstein would have killed him on the spot would he have heard this sentence. Still, maybe Tempest should check on Ornstein. He was sure that the food he had given Ornstein was fine, but maybe his stomach thought otherwise. Even though he could easily stomach something like peas in apple sauce.

Tempest shuddered at the thought and then stood up, picking up the pie in case he would cross Ornstein's path in the floor and then went to the direction where the privies were.

Ornstein was nowhere to be found there. So, at least he didn't had stomach trouble, but where was Ornstein? He should be in bed, resting, not wandering around the cathedral.

So Tempest decided to search for Ornstein. He looked at every room he could think of, the herbal garden, the kitchen (maybe he had gotten hungry in the meantime), the living area, the conference room, the hallway with the wooden ask box.

Eventually, Tempest found Ornstein in the room where he had first encountered him. The room in which Ornstein had fought him alongside Smough. He was sitting on the floor, with nothing more but the purple rope on his body and his spear in his right hand.

"There you are.", Tempest said, stepping into sight, carrying the apple pie in front of him. "You should be in bed, Ornstein."

"Little Storm, I...", Ornstein started and then his gaze wandered to the pie in Tempest's hands.

"That smell...", he said.

"A certain someone told me that it is your favourite.", Tempest smiled and put the pie in front of Ornstein, getting out a knife and slicing the cake first in half, then in quarters and then in eights. How he had did so many times in his life.

He put a fork into the piece that was most close to Ornstein and then said: "I can only assume that you didn't had breakfast yet."

Ornstein shook his head and picked up the fork. He then slowly used it to separate a bite of the slice of pie and guided it to his mouth, where he carefully and slowly ate it.

The taste was overwhelming. He thought he would never get the chance to eat this pie again, because the one who made it wasn't among them anymore, but here he was, eating a pie that tasted exactly the same. He couldn't help himself, again and again he took a bite of the pie, basking in the feeling, in the comfort of the taste of this pie, even though it tasted a bit different now that he thought about it, Artorias' hadn't been so salty.

That was when Ornstein noticed that the salt came from his very own tears that silently streamed down his face. As he raised his head, he saw Tempest standing in front of him, a soul in his hands. A very specific soul, one that he would recognize anywhere.

"I can never undo what I did to him.", Tempest said, "But I at least can you give back what I wrongfully claimed for myself."

Tempest stepped nearer and let the soul glide in Ornstein's own hands, which he spread in front of him to catch the soul, feeling the warmth and the comfort he had missed so terribly since he had to find out that he would never see him again.

Home. Smough's soul felt like home to him. Ornstein's silent tears didn't stay quiet anymore. As he was hugging the soul, he felt them pouring out of his eyes, all while he wailed out all his pain and his misery and his suffering.

Very faintly he felt like someone stepped behind him and gave him a hug as best as they could.

Ornstein, who normally would have set clear boundaries against this motion, didn't care anymore. Instead, he spent a long time just weeping. Not once did the person hugging him go away.

After what felt like hours, his tears finally dried.

"Are you feeling better now?", Tempest asked from behind him. Of course, it had been the little Storm hugging him, who else could it have been.

For some reason, Ornstein didn't feel like telling him off. He actually felt rather comfortable like this.

"I... think so...", he said.

Tempest let go of Ornstein and appeared in front of him. He sat down and then said: "Tell me about it."

"About what?", Ornstein asked, wiping his face with his sleeve as he suddenly got aware that it was stained by his tears. His eyes probably were all red and puffy.

"About your feelings, silly.", Tempest smiled at him, but it wasn't his usual smile, the one that made Ornstein feel so warm and fuzzy inside. It was more a sad smile, a smile that didn't entirely reach his eyes and it looked like Tempest's eyes had tears welling up in them. Or maybe Ornstein had just imagined that?

"My... feelings...", Ornstein said and looked at the floor. When had been the last time he had told someone about his feelings? It probably had been Smough, but when had been the last time he had told Smough? It felt like it had been decades.

"Yes, because I am sure of one thing, Ornstein, and that is that it is unhealthy to bottle your feelings up like that. I could see it, you know. Back in Oolacile. You were putting up a brave facade, but you were barely keeping it together."

Ornstein flinched at Tempest said the exact three words that had been his mantra to keep his composure upright. The words he was sure he had whispered to himself now and then after they had fought Artorias...

"I won't say anything.", Tempest said. "I am simply here to listen."

Ornstein thought that he had cried out all his tears for a whole year, so he was surprised when he felt new tears welling up in his eyes. He sniffled, wiped his eyes and then nodded. "Alright.", he said.

Tempest sat in front of him and looked at him with big eyes, expecting eyes. Ornstein took a deep breath and started speaking.

"I feel... guilty. I feel like it was my fault that they died. I should have stopped Artorias. I should have gone with him. I should have gone after him. I wasn't even there when he died..."

Tempest furrowed his brow at the last statement. Ornstein had very much be present when Artorias had died, but then it dawned on him that Ornstein was talking about his past self, that indeed hadn't been present.

"Ciaran... I haven't seen her grief. I haven't seen her sadness. If only I had noticed then, then maybe she wouldn't have..."

Tempest shivered a bit. He hadn't know about how Ciaran had died, but Ornstein's implications were unmistakable. She had, in fact, taken her own life...

"Gough... I found his tower collapsed one day. I... I should have paid better attention. I should have warned him that the tower was old and decrepit. I just... I just hope he died because of his injuries and not..."

Hearing about the death of the giant made Tempest's chest tighten. He had liked Gough. He had felt like a very good friend to Ornstein and knowing that he had died to an accident like this, Tempest could agree with Ornstein at hoping that Gough didn't had to suffocate to death under the rubble.

"Smough.", Ornstein looked down at the soul in his lap. "We promised to go together. And now... now I left him all alone. Because I didn't die when I should have died. I am, I am so sorry, Smough, I wanted to come with you, really."

Ornstein cradled the soul in his arms and fresh tears stained his face as Tempest felt his chest tighten even more than before. He didn't want to see Ornstein like this. As much as he wanted for Ornstein to be true to his feelings, he never wanted to see an Ornstein who wished that he was dead.

"My Master... I didn't understand, I didn't try to understand. I... I could have prevented his banishment. I could have talked to him, if only I had tried instead of turning my back on him..."

After this, Ornstein fell silent. Tempest waited for a little while longer and then spoke: "Ornstein... do you feel responsible for their deaths?"

Ornstein looked up at Tempest and then nodded before casting his gaze downwards again: "It was my fault, if I wouldn't have failed, then they all were still..." His voice trailed off.

"Did you stab any of them through the chest with your spear?", Tempest inquired.

Ornstein stared at him blankly. "Little Storm, what?"

"If you haven't stabbed anyone of them yourself, then you aren't responsible for their deaths.", Tempest said. "When you want to blame someone, you had a better bet at blaming me. I killed Artorias. I killed Smough."

Ornstein visibly flinched at Tempest's words. "I killed Artorias because he almost had killed you, but Smough... I don't have an excuse for him. I only fought you and him because of the prophecy. And then I have the guts to come and tell Gwyndolin that I can't even fulfil it... what a fine Chosen Undead I am..."

"But... what about Ciaran and Gough?", Ornstein said. "I can't blame you for their deaths." Ornstein was silent for a second before he added more quietly. "I don't blame you for any death anyway..."

"I don't know the exact circumstances about Ciaran, but I don't think that it was your fault.", Tempest said. "It may have been her way of ending her pain... Don't you think I have tried to end my own suffering like this? But I get reborn from the bonfire each and every time...", Tempest cast his gaze downwards, "For Gough, he spend all his time on this tower, right? He could have moved elsewhere if he wanted. Maybe.. maybe he was content with letting his life end there. He must have known this tower better than anyone, he would have noticed it first hand when it was about to collapse."

Ornstein just stared at Tempest and blinked once, twice. "But... but my Master..."

"Did he leave because of you?", Tempest asked. "Or did he leave because of something else? You mentioned that you haven't talked with him. Did he maybe want to talk to you? Have you let him or did you shut him out?"

Ornstein opened his mouth to speak and the closed it again.

"None of their fates is your fault, Ornstein.", Tempest said and got up. "The only person in this room you have killed is me and I have come back each and every single time." Tempest came closer to Ornstein and pressed himself against the chest of the dragon slayer. "Please stop feeling guilty for incidents that you couldn't change."

Tempest could feel how Ornstein's arm, the non injured one, pressed him a little closer, his whole body was shivering and he was feeling very very warm.

"Little Storm, I...", he sniffled, "I am sorry..."

"Don't be.", Tempest said and smiled up at Ornstein during his own tears that started to fall out of his eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for."

The two of them stayed locked like this before a while until Ornstein broke the hug. "It tasted exactly like his.", he smiled down at Tempest. "Little Storm, thank you."

A few days later Ornstein's arm was almost healed. Gwyndolin had allowed him to get out of bed and move around the cathedral at first, but now he also was allowed to move around outside the cathedral. Their mission, however, they would only be able to continue once only a scar remained.

Ornstein had carried around Smough's soul everywhere with him during this time, he had slept with it, brought it to the kitchen and talked to it, always praising Tempest's cooking (while still reassuring it that Smough's cooking was superior, which made Tempest only more determined to give his best with every recipe) and sometimes had just been wandering the halls with it.

Yesterday, Ornstein had stopped in front of Tempest and said: "I need to move on."

Tempest had glanced behind him questioning himself what was that about, but he found out this very morning.

"The burial rites.", Ornstein said. "I want to give Smough his final rest."

Tempest nodded at his words. He didn't knew about the burial rites of the gods, but with them leaving their souls behind, he could only assume that they had to do something to the souls, so that they could move on.

At this very moment, Tempest and Ornstein stood in front of the statue of Smough that had greeted Tempest when he had first entered Anor Londo. Gwyndolin was with them too. The Royal Sentinels normally standing in this room had been dispelled by them.

"Are you sure about this, Ornstein?", Gwyndolin asked. "You know you can use the soul in other ways."

"I am sure about it.", Ornstein said. "I need to move on, so does he."

"Very well then.", Gwyndolin said. "Then say the words. I, the Dark Sun Gwyndolin, last deity of Anor Londo, will watch over thee."

Ornstein nodded and stepped forward. He then started to speak.

"From the flames we came and to the flames we return. You, my beloved, has fulfilled your purpose in this world, now I have to allow you to move on."

Ornstein lowered the soul on the very big casket that was standing in front of the statue. Tempest hadn't seen it, but he knew that the body of the executioner must have been in there.

"May the flames guide thee.", Ornstein finished and folded his hands in prayer, kneeling in front of the casket. Tempest repeated his gesture and send a silent prayer himself to Smough.

Thank you for letting me have met Ornstein.

As Tempest opened his eyes again, he watched as the soul of Smough started to disappear, to dwindle, turning into embers until nothing was left anymore.

"This soul has returned to the ever burning flame.", Gwyndolin said. "Let us commemorate to his memory."

Ornstein stayed kneeled in his prayer position for a long time, but eventually he got up.

"I am sorry.", he said. "And thank you."

Gwyndolin flicked their catalyst and the casket vanished, or more, got hidden again. Ornstein went over to them and the two of them locked in a hug for a few minutes before Ornstein came back to Tempest.

"Little Storm, let's move on.", he said, waving to Gwyndolin who disappeared after a short flick of their catalyst.

"We have a mission to fulfil."

(Author's note: I had planned this scene since I started writing the DLC, but the burial rites I only added after a spontaneous idea. This chapter made me very emotional... Ornstein is making me very emotional... that mess of a knight...

Lot of thanks to everyone who has left comments on the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed and please tell me your thoughts down below!)