Hell's True Monarch (Dark Souls 2 X Helltaker Crossover)

The True Monarch

Author's Note:

I got into Helltaker in the last few weeks, thought about this crossover a few days ago and said "why the fuck not?"

It's an odd crossover, to say the very least, but I genuinely have some interesting ideas for this. The main focus of this story will be a romantic relationship between Alinoth, my Bearer of the Curse, and Justice. Together, I'll also work on a master/apprentice relation between Alinoth and Azazel, with the Bearer of the Curse teaching the angel on a similar fashion to how Aldia taught the cursed one, all while trying to prevent Azazel from becoming the Loremaster by any means necessary.

In addition to Helltaker and some original content regarding the Soulsborne games, I will also be following some events and characters from the fan game Helltaker: Second Circle (which I highly recommend for you to play).

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Memories drifted in and out of Alinoth's mind like passing shadows.

They came most often in dreams, where his ailing mind replayed fragments of his past - moments from a life before the undead curse. He recalled his birth in Forossa, his service as a Northwarder, and the honor of being Arch-Oracle of Faraam. But there was one memory that always returned, unchanging in its vividness.

Running down a grand corridor bathed in moonlight, the man with white hair and beard panted with each step, his legs ready to give out, still weighed down by the armor he hadn't yet removed. He had barely left the battlefield when he received the news and rushed back to Forossa’s capital. His soldiers understood; the urgency of his return left no room for explanation.

Alinoth arrived at his destination and paused, leaning against the door to catch his breath. Fatigue wasn’t the only thing gnawing at him - anxiety clawed at his mind. Would he be good enough? Could he balance his responsibilities with what awaited inside? He didn’t have the answer, but he knew standing at the door wouldn’t solve anything.

With one final deep breath, he gently pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

The disarray was the first thing he noticed. Furniture askew, clothes discarded on the floor - it was clear the midwives had worked in haste. His gaze then shifted to the large bed at the center, where a woman lay sleeping, her form obscured by shadows.

In her lap, swaddled in pristine silk, was a small, fragile figure.

Alinoth, weary from war, could hardly believe the peaceful scene before him. Approaching slowly, his eyes fell on the tiny form nestled in his wife’s arms. With infinite care, he lifted his newborn child, cradling the baby with a gentleness that belied his strength.

A father. He was a father.

The overwhelming joy of it washed over him, though he hadn’t even seen the baby’s face yet - its features hidden beneath the delicate silk. Smiling, almost in a trance, he reached out to pull back the covering and see his child’s face for the first time...

And then his world shattered.

What lay before him wasn’t a face - it was melted, like wax dripping from a candle. The deformity grew worse with every passing second, the features dissolving further into an unrecognizable horror. Alinoth’s joy turned to panic as he stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.