Work Text:
Artos had been considered the Chosen Undead since the moment he was freed from his holdings in the Undead Asylum many moons ago. Yet, he had now devoted his life the serving the last living Deity in the golden city of Anor Londo: Dark Sun Gwyndolin. Artos had done many things in service of the man he considered his lord, judging and executing those who have sinned or betrayed the Blade of the Dark Moon.
The book Artos had personally been given showed him the names of such sinners, the Goddess Velka overseeing the names of the sinners and adding new ones when atrocities were committed.
His sword had been drenched in blood many a time, yet Artos never felt remorse for those he had slayed. No matter if they attempted to repent or plead for forgiveness, the sharp steel of his sword silenced them through the separation of head from body. After each battle Artos would take a Souvenir of Reprisal - an ear severed from the corpse of the guilty - and present it to his lord as proof of his conquest.
Although today it seemed that Anor Londo - and Lordran - by extent, was relatively pure. Gwyndolin nor the Book of The Guilty had given Artos the names of those to subjugate. Mayhap the world had gone still and quiet for but a moment. Artos was unsure of if the pureness of today would even stay pure, as it never took much to sin or betray the covenant that one belongs to.
Yet, ever steady in his resolve even in the face of unrelenting boredom, Artos stood his post stationed just outside of Gwyndolin's personal chambers. Artos could never dream of entering the sacred domain that was his lord's quarters, even if he was one of Gwyndolin's closest confidantes and highest-ranking knights. Just the thought filled Artos' head with the vision of punishment...even though Lord Gwyndolin had never and most likely would never lay a hand upon him.
Lord Gwyndolin was too frail and small to truly harm Artos anyways, at least physically, Artos armor would most likely just deflect Gwyndolin's volley of arrows. But those spells of Lord Gwyndolin were a sight to behold, a level of sorcery that Artos had never seen before even from the mages of his homeland of Thorolund. Gwyndolin even had tried many times to teach Artos some of those incantations. Yet despite Artos' average intelligence and willingness to learn, he could never quite cast a spell correctly...even under Gwyndolin's soft-spoken and gentle guidance.
Artos could still feel the slender fingers of Gwyndolin's on his hands, even through the plate gauntlets he was wearing. The Dark Sun had stood behind his knight and guided his hands to hold a catalyst correctly, showing the man where to place his fingers on the ornate magic staff.
Those were the thoughts that kept Artos company as he stood guard, that and the statues lining the marble hallways.
"My knight, wilt thou come hither, I pray thee?"
Artos' thoughts were halted by the ethereal voice of Gwyndolin emanating from his personal quarters. Ah, there it was...Gwyndolin himself was most likely going to give him the name of a sinner to invade and slaughter. But this time the Lord's voice sounded quieter and more hesitant that usual.
Artos' armor shifted with each step as he moved to the door, standing just outside of it before tapping on the door 4 times exactly. He waited for a response from Gwyndolin, which took a moment before that soft voice spoke once more.
"Pray, enter; I permit it."
Artos was stunned for a moment, Lord Gwyndolin was allowing him to enter the domain of his private chambers? It must've been important by those matters, and Artos' hand trembled as he reached for the doorhandle. He stilled his hand along with his breath, before gripping the handle and allowing the door to swing open...
Artos stepped forward, his gaze scrutinizing every inch of the newly unveiled room. It was dark and tinted with a blue hue much like moonlight streaming in through the extravagant glass panes, Artos new that Anor Londo was - in reality- a city shrouded in darkness, and it was Gwyndolin's magic upholding the illusion of golden beams shining in the sky. Artos took another step in and saw Gwyndolin sitting in an ornate chair.
And by the flames, he looked purely divine.
The last deity was wearing a long white silken robe that flowed down to the floor, where dozens of white snakes slithered in place of Gwyndolin's legs like the hydra Artos had seen in the lake of Darkroot Garden so long ago. The silken robe was embroidered and had a beautiful trim of gold along sides the edges of the collar, and just above the collar was pale-milky skin with absolutely no blemishes nor flaws, a perfectly sculpted nose and a pair of pouty pink lips situated perfectly on his face. Long, elegant silver hair draped down over the sun mask that obscured half of his face.
The statues erected of his did not do him justice with his true beauty. And Artos was stunned for a moment before he regained his stoic nature and was able to speak.
"What is it that you request of me, lord?"
Gwyndolin looked over to Artos from where he was in his chair, before handing a hand and beckoning him closer with a finger. Artos obeyed and paced closer until he was standing in front of him, kneeling down and putting a fist to his chest in a sign of respect and submission.
"Nay, Nay, please rise, Artos."
Gwyndolin reached down and used his slim hands to guide Artos back to his feet, the knight's stature looming over the Lastborn child of The Lord of Sunlight in a way that would've intimidated the young lord if it was anyone other than Artos.
"It truly is a meager request, one unbecoming of me by nature. but...Might you, perchance, lend your assistance to the application of my makeup...?"
It really was an odd request from Gwyndolin, as he had never requested such a thing for Artos nor allowed him in such a private area like these chambers. Artos stood for a moment, silent before speaking through the ornate helm he was wearing.
"Yes. I can do that."
Artos watched in silence as Gwyndolin reached up and gingerly removed the Crown of the Dark Sun that was atop his head, fully revealing his face to Artos for the first time as he set the crown down with a soft clank.
Gwyndolin's eyes were stunning, as gold as the rays of light bathing Anor Londo, as sharp as Artos' blade but with an edge of softness to them. Artos felt a heat rise to his face, not unlike the breath of a dragon blowing onto it, and he was grateful that his helmet blocked the rose-tinted pigment over his features. Gwyndolin shifted slightly in his seat, averting those lovely eyes as he spoke once more.
"My knight...? Pray, might you remove your helm as well?"
Artos took a moment to register Gwyndolin's request before nodding, reaching up to remove his steel helm. The same helm that had been through many conquests and battles with many a sinner and monster, that had taken a mace to its steel and a dagger jammed through the eyehole, narrowly missing Artos' right eye. Artos fully removed his helm, revealing short brown hair, crystal blue eyes, a stubbled beard and a sharp jawline. He was no epitome of handsomeness nor beauty, and Gwyndolin had seen his face before...but it still made a sense of anxiety bloom in Artos' chest.
"Hold still, Lord Gwyndolin."
Artos never understood why Gwyndolin even wore makeup, with his perfect complexion and features, but he would never judge his lord. Artos removed his gauntlets and grabbed some white powder and a makeup brush, reaching forward and putting a hand on Gwyndolin's chin to steady the young lord's face as he began applying the cosmetic. Gwyndolin giggled softly and squirmed slightly under the ticklish strands of the brush...a sound very inappropriate for such a graceful young lord.
"Lord...you are moving too much."
Artos said curtly, not attempting to sound rude yet still carrying that tone of knightly seriousness. Gwyndolin let out a small noise of fluster and nodded, stilling his vocals and movements. Artos had to lean in to make sure he was not ruining nor smudging Gwyndolin's makeup.
Artos finished up the best he could and took a step back to admire his work...yet saw no difference, Gwyndolin was just as elegant and pretty as ever. but alas, Artos could never tell his true feelings to his lord, it wouldn't be right for the seed of love to sprout between the two of them. Twas not right, a man with a male as his consort? That would be considered blasphemy anywhere in Lordran. The two were silent for a moment, just gazing at each other before Gwyndolin reached up with soft hands and grabbed Artos by the breastplate of his armor, tugging him down and...
Kissing Artos.
It was brief, not giving Artos even a moment to steady himself or react as Gwyndolin's lips moved against his. And it ended just as quickly as it started, with Gwyndolin breaking the kiss with a mortified expression on his face.
"Oh dear...I apologize, my knight...but you should leave. now."
Artos was confused above all, but he would obey his lord no matter the feelings swirling inside of his chest. He stood up, grabbed his helmet and put it back on before turning around and leaving the now desecrated-by-lust chambers. He did not speak a word as he shut the door behind him, returning to his designated post in silence. He knew better than to think anything of the encounter, but he felt his resolve weaken from how quickly Gwyndolin had evicted him from the room.
Artos felt shame as he stood in the marble hallway he had stood for what seemed like eons. Getting too close to Gwyndolin would be his downfall and he knew it.
Being a faceless Blade of the Darkmoon is what he should remain as, nothing more.
And nothing less.