#azaffranist

Anna is a brave hearted woman, shoulder to shoulder with those who fought and killed nigh immortal dragons. Her kind pluck such foul creatures from the sky with arrows larger than trees, with lightning more forked than a hurricane, and slay enemies with the kindness of silver and gold-tipped daggers.

Her own mighty broadsword swings over her left shoulder with ease, a smile on her lips as she walks. The Age of Fire is upon them, but there is fear in the hearts of the gods, and to save those who would, without help, succumb to the evil inside of them Great Knight Anna will stop at nothing.

There are monsters to kill, perverted and misguided souls, each one more disturbing and profane than the last, as each is born from the Abyss itself, a dark, treacherous place where no mortal would dare tread. The city of Oolacile is threatened, sinking slowly into Darkness as an ancient, promethean man eats it from the inside out.

But Anna holds courage in her heart, and should she need a reminder of strength or solace, she need only look to her right and Elsa, her direwolf companion, is next to her, ice-blue eyes speaking more than a voice ever could. Her pure white fur makes the Darkness shrink, her frost-like Light magic a boon in the most murky corridor. Elsa has a nose for danger, and can conjure crystals to warn of dangerous earth, poisoned water, a new rash of weather over the mountains, or the lurking threat of fire. Her pelt is soft and warm, and in the mountains where they camp she’s as cozy as a bonfire, her fluffy tail wrapped around Anna’s middle as the Knight snoozes against her side.

With such skill and determination, and pureness of heart, Anna is more than well equipped to fight the Darkness, especially when Elsa is with her every step of the way.

The Abyss calls itself Manus and it is a nightmare.

For the first time, Anna is overwhelmed. She is battered against the walls of this cave, she is clawed and crushed and flogged with fists of pure Darkness. Her ears ring with primal screams. Elsa’s magic is no more effective than her teeth, and Anna watches as her companion lunges at the Manus’ middle, watches how the Darkness warps impossibly, sees a hand of incredible size form above Elsa’s unprotected back. Anna moves.

She does not feel her arm shatter (that pain will come later) but she hears it, cracking and shredding and splintering, heedless of muscle and skin.

The shield’s magic forces Manus back, screeching into the Dark. A brief respite.

Elsa pants hard, the concussive force of the hit rattling already exhausted bones, empty of energy and magic. Anna knows Elsa will not survive another blow. She is still young, a pup, and deserves to grow, large and strong. A pelt, a life, as bright as Elsa’s should not be swallowed by the Dark.

Anna speaks the runes and the shield ignites with Light, protecting Elsa from the Abyss forever, but also protecting Elsa from following Anna as she hefts her greatsword in her off hand and limps back towards the sound of Manus’ roars. She closes her ears to Elsa’s pitiful cries.

The Dark would not claim another victim.

But it does.

-----

Whatever thou art, stay away.

Soon I will be consumed by ‘Them’, by the Dark.

All of you… forgive me. For I have availed you nothing.

-----

Hundreds of years later Elsa’s ears pick up the sound of an interloper in the graveyard. She rouses herself, shaking rainwater from her coat. The snowflake mark on her brow has dulled, no longer lively purple but a morose kind of brown, the color of bloodied earth long dry.

Elsa is tired. Thieves keep coming to steal what is most precious to her. Could they not see the weapons of their fellows littered on the ground? Monuments to greed, pillars of failure each one of them, a blade planted vertically in the dirt next to small, unmarked headstones. Don’t they see? They seek an object that will only kill them, the wicked artifact that allowed Anna to walk into the Abyss unharmed, only for claws of black to tear her asunder. The cursed item that allowed Anna’s fate.

No one should have the power to throw themselves so willingly onto Death’s sword.

As the thief approaches Anna’s enormous headstone, reaches their hand out to touch Anna’s greatsword, Elsa makes her presence known. She is a formidable sight: a fully grown Great Wolf, she towers, mountainous, over this puny looter. Anger shoots through Elsa, igniting her limbs as she leaps down and tears Anna’s weapon from the dirt. Again. To stop one so desperate to kill themselves. Again.

Elsa howls at the moon, anguish and guilt and fury clashing within her.

Let Anna rest, her work is done. Do not walk in her footsteps, as there lies only suffering.

She repositions the sword in her mouth and swings, long and sweeping as she has seen Anna do many times before.

Blood stains the rocky headstones in crimson arcs.

----

Elsa awakes yet again and everything has changed.

It is dark, unnaturally so. There is no graveyard, there are no trees, no whisper of wind through her coat. She is flat on her back and there is a strange man in a wheelchair to her right, telling her things. Yharnam? An Outsider? He mentions blood and suddenly Elsa’s nose is filled with it, cloying and pressing against her. How had she not noticed it before?

How also had she not noticed she was strapped to a bed?

He begins his so-called transfusion and Elsa sees that her feet do not end in paws and her tail is missing. Her teeth are no longer sharp as she tests them with her tongue and her muzzle does not like to growl but to grumble, too short to carry the sound forward.

But she does not have time to contemplate this as her vision blurs and she falls backwards into the dark once more.

A Beast of blood emerges from the floor but Elsa feels no kinship with it. The Beast is twisted and wrong, and as it reaches out to touch her it bursts into flame, screaming. Perhaps her Light magic still works here… or perhaps Anna’s shield is still bound to her, after all this time. For surely that creature is borne of the Abyss.

So too must these small pygmy-like wretches crawling up her stomach and chest. Fear jolts through Elsa’s heart as these pale things are not deflected by magic and instead reach her head and cover her eyes. A voice whispers in her mind.

“Ah… you’ve found a hunter…”

Anna?

The Hunter’s Dream is serene and soft compared to the Night eating Yharnam alive. Here there are flowers, a pleasant breeze that does not carry wails, and though there are graves it seems a peaceful place of rest for all, not just the dead.

And this is where Elsa finds her.

Anna. Her Knight, her long lost friend, lying against the garden wall. Her eyes are closed, peaceful in sleep. Elsa approaches with great joy but… something is wrong.

Anna… doesn’t smell like Anna. Elsa presses her nose against the woman’s cheek, just to be sure, but is chastised by the man inside a house at the top of the steps, the one who must have brought her here. Elsa remembers a piercing pain in her chest followed by a long dark like a heavy blanket, deep and inevitable. Perhaps she died the night of the thief, and this world is simply the next one. Anna, or perhaps not-Anna, has not stirred in the slightest to Elsa’s presence, and with another beckoning of the old man, Elsa realizes this is a mystery to be put aside for the moment. Besides, Anna is peaceful in this state, and… she was not peaceful the last time Elsa saw her. Maybe this is where she has been sleeping all along, as Elsa watched over her grave in the other world.

Elsa slowly gets used to walking on two legs, though she always misses her tail, expecting it on the back of her calves every other step. She is both taller and shorter than she feels she should be but the little pygmies do not laugh when she misses her target because of this. In fact they are friendly, bringing her trinkets at times. She understands them a little, as they too are non-verbal. Human language still eludes her, though Elsa realizes she has now, the ability to speak it, as clearly and easily as she used to speak to Anna with just her movements. No one seems to mind her silence, and in turn she feels no need to break it.

Except for the Doll.

That’s what the man calls her, the not-Anna. Now awake, she is kind and gentle, and while her warmth kindles familiarity in Elsa’s soul, it is not enough like the bonfire of a spirit Knight Anna always possessed. Though she shares Anna’s face, her voice is thinner, like a creek through reeds, shallow like music from another room. If this is what her Anna has been reduced to, then Elsa will care for her as she always has, her silent companion. But it is the only time Elsa wishes she could speak, align her muzzle and teeth and tongue in the right order for speech. But she, the Doll… Anna… this woman, seems to read Elsa’s eyes well enough, and always wishes her wellness and luck in her hunts.

The Yharnam Elsa now stalks may be new, but it is not unfamiliar. There are monsters here too, but they are not undead but Beasts, sick like the Darkness made humans sick. The town conjures a feeling of familiar unease, it is like Oolacile being consumed all over again. Elsa has been given a strange blade: a cane-sword, they called it a trick weapon. It has a different kind of grace than Anna’s greatsword, but Elsa can admire its stinging, erratic bite as it curls around shields and tears flesh with the same ease as her old jaw.

Elsa resigns herself to the Doll, this copy of Anna, a pale comparison but not an unkind one. Until the day she learns of Lady Anna, an Old Hunter, experienced slayer, and roaming ghost of Yharnam. The man tells Elsa that Lady Anna wishes to exterminate Beasts so that people can live in peace, forever, and she is as ruthless as she is discerning, relentless in her quest. Even the Doll has nothing but admiration in her too-soft voice for this person.

Elsa needs to meet this her, and sets out immediately. She sounds… very much like Great Knight Anna: firmly set in her beliefs and desire for goodness and peace in her grisly work, but Elsa swallows the glass-like shards of hope rising in her throat. Disappointment would be its own kind if dying.

She finds her in the Clock Tower. The likeness is uncanny, but if the Doll was an enthusiastic replacement, this body was a carbon copy. The swallowed glass gets lodged, stabbing into Elsa’s heart, but still, she dared not hope. This person, Lady Anna, was so… still. Knight Anna was never still, so much boundless energy, so much eagerness, the will to do good, to make safe haven, sometimes even robbed her of sleep. The woman sitting in a lonesome chair is not like that at all, she is calm, collected.

Perhaps she is dead.

Indeed, Lady Anna is covered in blood and Elsa does not see her chest breathe, not even an inch. Tentatively she reaches out a hand. Oh, now this would be cruel indeed - to find her Knight only for her to be dead and bloodless and empty of everything once again.

The vice-like grip around her wrist shocks Elsa from her thoughts.

“A corpse… should be left well alone.” A corpse, a corpse!? But Lady Anna is so very alive and her voice--

Unmistakable.

But quickly Elsa realizes she’s fighting for her life. There’s so much noise and movement and blood, so much blood it reeks. Lady Anna’s swings seem to come from nowhere, fire igniting in the wake of every slash and it’s dazzling and swift and uncanny… and yet.

Her stance may be foreign but her prowess is not, she directs her weapons with grace and skill, and the blades dance towards Elsa’s throat with a precision borne from battle hardened assurance.

Just like a knight. Just like Anna with her greatsword.

Suddenly Lady Anna is upon her, grabbing Elsa’s collar and pulling, clutching Elsa to her chest. It’s rough and unfriendly but Elsa knows deep down this is new and startling for both of them. Anna’s breathing is ragged despite her absolute dominance over the battlefield, her voice shaking with some burdening magnitude.

“I know you,” Lady Anna whispers in her ear.

And Elsa, having not made a sound this entire time except in exhaustion or pain, gets her too short tongue working and too small teeth out of the way to say, “And I know you. You are Lady Anna, protector of Yharnam, slayer of the Darkness that lurks in the hearts of men to make them Beasts, and you have done well to make a name for yourself here. But all of that I know only because I found myself here, in a Dream. When I was young, and Awake, I knew you as Great Knight Anna, warrior against the Darkness itself, and you held in your powerful grip a sword as tall as you so that you could always slay something larger than yourself. It flashed as brightly as your smile until it could no more. And the last I saw you was when I had no shared language to warn you, no voice to scream in grief as your arm shattered and yielded to profane horror. Despite your broken body you used your only able limb to shield me against death itself, magical and eternal. But it kept me from you, and you walked back into the Dark where I could not follow and then there was the most terrible quiet. I saw someone go in afterwards, and only then did I hear your voice again, but as it was never meant to be: broken and hollow and defeated. Dark.”

Lady Anna’s hand shakes, her other poised over Elsa’s heart. It could drive right through her chest, seek the Beast in Elsa’s blood and rip it out. But perhaps it was there before the infusion, one of kindred spirit instead of illness and madness. Anna releases her hold without warning and Elsa’s knees hit the ground hard.

“I… have felt a loneliness for so long,” Lady Anna says, almost to herself. “I have searched for years, every nook and cranny, guided by nothing but some deep knowledge of a phantom ‘other’ by my side, etched so deeply it could be in my very own blood. But this presence, this… twin soul, has never showed itself.” She looks at her swords. “They did not used to split, it was one weapon, until I could not stomach the void anymore. I threw it away, and fashioned these. They… somehow I knew I needed two. There were supposed to be two. Two… of… us.”

Elsa goes to answer but the words tangle in her mouth, gargled and guttural and rough. Speech flees from her again, focus gone, and Elsa clutches her throat, gasping. Lady Anna twitches, hands tightening on her weapons.

Anna’s voice holds the tension of a tripwire. “You--... She... I gave someone a name once. My closest friend. She had unique Light magic: small diamonds, blue, beautiful.” Her eyes flashed with her steel. “Show me. Tell me her name, or be not Hunter but Beast.”

And Elsa does.

The Clock Tower fills with floating diamonds, glittering and bright, etched with symbols of safety and protection and Light. They move and spin, arranging themselves into a shape, not a Yharnam rune but an older one, one only Anna would know. Elsa’s name in the language of the Age of Fire.

Anna drops her swords, clattering to the floor and embraces Elsa with arms so fierce and desperate that Elsa cannot breathe, until Anna’s shoulders slump and hitch with sobs and now Elsa holds Anna with tired, grateful hands.

“I thought…,” Anna manages, trembling in Elsa’s grasp, “I thought it was a Dream. All that before… really happened.” Anna clutches at Elsa’s clothes, like burying fingers in thick fur, “I have missed you every moment of my death, including all the seconds from when I Awoke without you, until now.”

Elsa wipes Anna’s tears away, clumsy in her joy but her eyes say everything her stubborn tongue won’t, and it is just like before, when she knows Anna understands her completely.

“In my defense,” Anna sniffs, regaining a bit of control, “I thought you’d be taller. And well, you were a wolf the last time we met.”

Elsa can’t help but smile at that, lending Anna an arm as they stand. The smile turns into quite the wolfish grin indeed when they realize at the same time that Elsa is in fact, an inch or so taller than Anna.

“You really did grow up without me, didn’t you?” Anna says wistfully, as though to chastise for leaving her behind.

Elsa makes a huffing sound that they both know is laughter and presses her forehead against Anna’s.

Finally. Her Knight. Her Lady.

Her home.

This time, neither will face the Darkness alone.

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Alternate Endings, courtesy of questions asked by @daughterofhel (who patiently let me tell the ENTIRE story of Artorias and Sif AND the Good Hunter and the Doll and Lady Maria to contextualize this… entire… thing)

-Lady Maria!Anna is not immune to Beast blood like in canon and after joining up with Sif!Elsa actually succumbs to the plague and goes feral. Their roles are now reversed, Elsa is the badass Hunter with a Beast companion. They still know each other well enough to communicate but are ostracized from the other Hunters because Elsa refuses to kill Anna

-Because Elsa was a creature in her past life, the Beast blood takes hold very naturally, and it does not change her personality or sense of self. Lady Anna reclaims her greatsword trick weapon and travels Yharnam with Elsa by her side, now a were-beast. The magical snowflake on her forehead comes back and her fur is the same white/white-blonde as when she was a Great Wolf

-Lady Anna actually DOES rip Elsa’s heart out of her chest like that killer parry (for female Hunters only!), realizing seconds too late she has killed her life long friend who crossed time and space to find her. Distraught, Lady Anna consumes Elsa’s heart, drawing upon her vampiric, Vileblood ancestry to bond Elsa’s soul to hers. Other Hunters begin to hear rumors of a unique Beast stalking Yharnam, slaying it’s own kin and leaving behind oceans of blood. It has patchy red and white fur, a greatsword strapped to it’s back, and two different colored eyes: one green, one blue. Some even claim that it speaks to itself, though broken and twisted, and it will leave a trail of blue-glowing diamonds in areas safe to return to, lighting up the dark.