From Ashes
Alwyn awoke to the sound of a bell and a tomb around him, littered with what seemed to be honorary offerings of warriors, countless weapons nearby where he arose from his rest. In the distance he could see others apparently headed towards what appeared to be a firelink shrine, but he saw something that caught his attention far more urgently, Anor Londo in the distance.
Alwyn picked up his smoldering greatsword, and his charred shield, and began trekking towards the city. He found difficulty in navigating to it, feeling the world seeming to shift around him, but eventually, he did make it, witnessing the once golden city in an icy blue, covered in snow.
Alwyn continued walking, newly invigorated, when a magical barrier came into view. There were thoughts and questions on the tip of his tongue, but all were halted by a roar. The creature, which appeared behind him, likely having formerly been veiled by some form of illusory magic, looked to be an abyssal creature. Seeing the far more monstrous look to it, with its long maw and piercing orange eyes, he quickly made the conclusion that the dark must have become more violent since he had linked the flame. But Alwyn remained stalwart against the beast, and plunged his greatsword clean through the beast's skull, which when he did so, he noticed his greatsword catch the monster alight with blue flames.
But Alwyn did not take time to ponder this, he had someone he needed to reunite with. His dear lord Gwyndolin, his darksun.
And so, Alwyn marched forward, he was attacked by skeletal knights and fire casting knights, Alwyn wondered why Gwyndolin would have replaced his father's silver knights with such odd soldiers.
His thoughts immediately became lucid once he saw one of the skeletal knights cast a hex. Gwyndolin would never have allowed his own troops to use dark magic right under his nose. Something was wrong, he needed to get to Gwyndolin NOW.
Alwyn rushed through the knights, hacking them apart as he did, until finally, he reached a large cathedral which seemed to separate Anor Londo from the rest of the city, and at the other end of the cathedral, was a man wearing the garb of a ruler.
"Who art thou, and where is lord Gwyndolin?" Alwyn asked, his voice stern, yet nigh-emotionless. His concern masked under his rising fury as he worried about what may have become of his dear Gwyndolin.
"Lord Gwyndolin has fallen ill, as a result, I had to relieve him of his title,” the Pontiff says, readying his swords. They began to glow as he lunges at Alwyn, aiming his Profaned Greatsword right for the center of Alwyn's chest.
He would’ve struck the heart, only for his blade to get knocked out of his hand by the sheer force of Alwyn's parry.
In that moment, he lets his guard down, and the Pontiff finds himself impaled on the Lord of Cinder's smoldering blue greatsword, body falling limp as he feels it pierce bone.
As Alwyn holds the Pontiff's impaled body into the air as he raises his greatsword, he says to the Pontiff again. "Where is Lord Gwyndolin, you foul traitor of a darkmoon blade." Alwyn says as he rips the Greatsword of Judgement from Sulyvahn's other hand.
"I'll never say, Saint Aldrich will soon arrive, and when he does, the last remaining heirs of Gwyn shall be consumed." The Pontiff says, trying to hold on to his wits as he begins to feel the smoldering greatsword burning away at his very soul.
"Then I am afraid you no longer have use to me." Alwyn says as his blade then bursts into a raging fire, scorching the Pontiff in blue flame, and as the Pontiff screams in agony, Alwyn swings his greatsword hard enough to send the Pontiff flying off. Crashing into a statue, which when Alwyn looks up, he sees is one of Gwyndolin.
"Took them long enough to give him his own statue, only God that actually stayed and yet even Smough got a statue before him. I know not who this saint is, but if and when he does arrive, I shall show him the wrath of Alwyn, first blade of the darksun. Now, foul sinner, die." Alwyn says, his voice sounding calm as he puts all his rage into a final stab, right into the Pontiff's ribs.
Alwyn then begins to search, it seemed as though that wretch of a man had been preparing Gwyndolin and some other god he knew not of to be sacrificed, and if Alwyn knew anything about cultists such as that so-called Pontiff, then Gwyndolin would likely be nearby.
And so, Alwyn walked forward, and saw Anor Londo, and then the mass of clergymen, which he presumed by their garb and hexes, were likely those of this Saint Aldrich, with as many as there were here, it was quite likely that Gwyndolin was here indeed. As Alwyn walked further, he saw an all to familiar sight, Silver Knights with greatbows around the cathedral in which he had fought Ornstein and Smough, but to his relief, the Knights seemed preoccupied with disposing of the clergy, it seemed there were still those yet defending his dear lord, and for that, Alwyn was grateful.
Alwyn dodged by the knights' shots, it was likely they have mistaken him for one of Aldrich's lackeys by how they immediately began opening fire on him, but he managed to get past, and as he approached the door to the cathedral he saw someone who he had very much dreaded the sight of.
"Oh for the love of Gwyn, SMOUGH?! FIRST OF ALL, HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?! I EXPLICITLY REMEMBER KILLING THEE. SECONDLY, IF YOU THINK I'M GOING TO LET YOUR FAT, GOLDEN ARSE STAND BETWEEN ME AND REUNITING WITH LORD GWYNDOLIN, I SHALL PERSONALLY DO TO YOU THE EXACT SAME THING I DID TO THAT WANNABE PONTIFF." Alwyn shouted, his rage beginning to boil over, thankfully though, Smough did seem to recognize him, and stepped aside, leaving Alwyn to open the door to the cathedral.
"Ah, I take it thee were defending Lord Gwyndolin in the event of that Aldrich person arriving, I appreciate thy work executioner, I assure thee, I will make certain not a finger is laid on my dear lord Gwyndolin by some cannibal abyss-saint." Alwyn says, showing gratitude, as he opens the door. He sees Gwyndolin, too weak to move, and given how emaciated he looked, to ill to be carried to safety by any of the knights.
"Lord Gwyndolin, do thee hear me?" Alwyn said, his voice showing a soothing passion, mixed with an emotional distress. "It's me, my lord, I know not how but I hath returned to thee."
Gwyndolin struggled to move his body, but managed to look up at Alwyn, who kneeled to Gwyndolin. "My dearest blade-" Gwyndolin is interrupted by a coughing fit, causing him to almost collapse. "I-I really am a fool, w-whatever poison the Pontiff drugged me with is making me hallucinate even thee at this point." Gwyndolin says, beginning to cry and he begins to cradle himself. "Right when I finally started to turn my own life towards the better, right when I finally almost got over how heartbroken your linking of the fire left me-"
Alwyn cannot help but pull Gwyndolin into an embrace as he hears this, desperate to let Gwyndolin know this isn't a hallucination. "No, please my lord, don't speak of thyself in such a way. I'm really here, please my lord, your words against thyself sting my heart like arrows in my ribs." Alwyn pulls Gwyndolin closer. "That monster will never hurt thee ever again, I made sure of that myself. I broke his spine against one of thy statues, it was good to see thee finally get the respect that you were owed."
Gwyndolin shudders in Alwyn's embrace, beginning to cry into Alwyn's pauldron. "I wish I could believe thee, my dearest blade... if this truly is real, then I would be happy." Then, in even his weakened state, Gwyndolin thinks of something. "If thee are real, then tell me something only you would know, something not even I would know about thee. That way there is no way my mind could conjure it up."
Alwyn hesitates for a moment, there are so many things he never wished to tell Gwyndolin, but, he decided upon something he knew Alwyn would never have thought of even in his wildest nightmare. "Promise thee won't hate me. When I had defeated the Four Kings, I encountered Kaathe. He told me about how Gwyn had screwed humanity over, of how the fire needed to die out. And for some time, I had agreed." Gwyndolin frozen up at this information, and Alwyn continued. "The only reason I linked the fire was because of you. I saw how much pain your abandonment from the other gods had caused you, and how the age of fire was the one last thing that you had left, and I could not bring myself to leave thee with nothing left. And so, despite all of my conniptions, despite all my hatred of Gwyn and his cancerous prolonging of the age of fire, I linked the flame. Not for myself, not for Fraampt, not for that illusion of your sister, but for you."
Gwyndolin could not help but cry, this was real, and he didn't know how to react. He simply clung onto Alwyn's body, and weakly tried to speak. "S-so, you have returned to me, after all. I-I am so sorry, my dear blade. Please forgive me for such a sin."
"You needn't have even asked, my lord." Alwyn replied. "I would gladly do it all over again for thee."