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In Anor Londo, where marble and cold reigned, and the clash of armor was a constant melody, few knew that even heroes could quietly break. Ornstein, the Golden Lion, Captain of the Knights, was everyone's bastion, the unmovable shield that never allowed cracks. But that night, for the first time, someone had managed to convince him to lower his guard.
The healer, a tenacious and compassionate woman, had pursued the Captain for weeks. She had watched him drag his feet at the end of rounds, clench his jaw when putting weight on his wounded side, and smile sideways while hiding soaked bandages under his armor. Tired, rigid, stubborn… no one cared for him because he took care of everyone.
Until he yielded.
The bath chamber was bathed in the soft glow of lit candles and the perfumed steam of medicinal herbs. Lavender, rosemary, eucalyptus… everything permeated the air, mingling with the warmth of the carefully prepared bathwater.
Ornstein sat in the tub, his imposing torso cloaked in steam, his shoulders finally low, relaxed, his eyelids heavy from accumulated fatigue.
"Hmpf… I don't know how you managed to drag me here," he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse, a hint of surrender in it.
"Because someone has to take care of the Captain who takes care of everyone," she replied as she gently ran the sponge over his chest, cleaning crusts, dried blood, and accumulated grime.
As the sponge moved across his skin, the healer couldn't help but think about how much this man had ignored his own well-being. "If he weren’t so stiff, I could even put flowers in his hair and make him laugh… he’d surely grumble, but he’d look lovely," she thought, hiding a smile.
When the sponge passed over a poorly closed wound on his side, he barely tensed his jaw without complaining.
-You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, the healer murmured.
Ornstein lowered his gaze, letting the water caress his tense muscles.
-Pain… I’m used to it.
-But you shouldn’t have to be used to it alone.
Carefully, she cleaned the inflamed wound, removing the hardened crust and letting new, clean blood flow. As she worked, her mind wandered: "Maybe after this, I can convince him to let me prepare a honey and lavender mask for him… that rough skin doesn’t need to stay so harsh. Though he’d surely growl and say he has no time for such nonsense."
When she finished cleaning the wound, he let out a sigh that was more relief than pain.
-You’re doing more for me than I’ve ever allowed anyone to do, he murmured.
She smiled tenderly, hiding the fluttering in her chest.
-And I’ll keep doing so.
After cleaning every wound, she prepared buckets of hot water, vinegar, and herbs. She asked him to soak his feet, and when he lifted them, she couldn’t hide her concern: thick calluses, ingrown nails, cracks, and scars.
As his feet soaked, she thought about everything she would do if he let her: "I could carefully trim each nail, hydrate the cuticles, give him a massage with lavender ointment… and maybe, just maybe, if he didn’t grumble too much, I’d paint a protective rune on his heels, like the pilgrims do."
-You should’ve taken care of this months ago, she murmured.
He averted his gaze, embarrassed.
-I didn’t have time.
-You do now.
One by one, she cleaned the calluses, trimmed the nails carefully, soothed the blisters and cracks. Ornstein remained still, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
-Does it hurt? she asked when she noticed his hands clenching slightly.
-A little, he admitted.
-But… at the same time, it’s the first time I feel someone… cares about every part of me.
She dried his feet gently and applied the warm wax, massaging softly until the skin, once rough and hardened, began to soften.
When she finished, she looked up at him.
-We’re not done yet. she smiled.
-Now, your hair.
Ornstein huffed but didn’t protest. She climbed onto a stool and began brushing his reddish strands, patiently detangling them, avoiding hurting him.
As the brush glided through his hair, the healer couldn’t help but think: "I could braid it and leave little flowers entwined… or perfume it with soft oils… or simply leave a ribbon, something that says: 'Today, someone cared for you.'"
-May I braid it? she asked when his damp strands fell smoothly.
-Do as you wish… I’ve completely surrendered tonight.
With light hands, she wove each braid while the Captain remained still, his breathing calm, his face relaxed in a way few would have ever imagined.
-Done. You look adorable, she whispered with a smile.
He opened one eye, tilting his head.
-Adorable… and defeated by a healer.
She prepared a corner with blankets and cushions, and when everything was ready, she looked at him sweetly.
-Now… rest. You’ve taken care of everyone for years. Tonight… let me take care of you.
Ornstein held her gaze for a long moment, then, with a soft sigh, nodded.
Before surrendering to sleep, when his eyes were already closing, he murmured:
-Thank you… for healing me. For seeing me.
She sat beside him and, with a gentle smile, whispered:
-I’ll always see you, Captain.
As she watched him sleep, she thought, without daring yet: "Maybe next time I will prepare that honey mask. And place a flower in his hair. Because he deserves to be cared for like this, even if he doesn’t know it." That night, while he rested with steady breathing and a light body, she knew that the strongest man in Anor Londo had finally found a refuge.