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Arianna sat in the dark of the storeroom, reminding herself to breathe.
The air was stale and cold. Her lungs were weary, her throat sore. It took effort to draw in each breath, and sometimes it would try to rush out of her, in anguished sobs that wracked her frame. But slowly, steadily, she continued to breathe, alone in the cold dark of the chapel cellar.
On the ground, by her feet, came a quiet, mewling sound. It shook her to her core, and she sank deeper into her gown, concentrating only on the sound of her breath to drown it out.
She almost didn’t hear it when the hatch above her creaked open; it wasn’t until heavy boots clanged on the ladder rungs that she startled aware. Her fear and shame paralyzed her. As much as she feared the intruder and their judgment, she was too weak to retreat. She could only shudder, drooping deeper into the old oak chair at her back.
Footsteps. The quiet slither of leather. Then a naked hand touched her face, skin warm and sweat-damp, calloused. Arianna took in a quick breath and then stopped as five patient fingers smoothed the hair away from her face, and a familiar voice spoke to her.
“Arianna?”
Arianna lifted her head. Standing before her was the Hunter, as tall and strong as every other time she had seen her, in her long black coat and folded cap. She had tugged down her cowl, granting Arianna her first look at her face—as lovely, and as striking as she had been imagining. This woman who had turned up on her doorstep on the night of the worst hunt in Yharnam’s memory, who may have been the last glimmer of hope in a wretched and dying city, now gazed upon her with concern, as if she were a thing of value in need of protection. After the night she’d suffered, she was convinced she had never seen anything so human, and immediately tears sprang to her eyes.
“Shh, it’s all right,” said the Hunter, brushing Arianna’s hair back behind her ear. “Hush, darling; it’s all right, now. You’re safe.”
Arianna couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks; she held still as the Hunter brushed them away with her thumbs, saying again, “Shh. It’s all right.”
The Hunter glanced away, and Arianna felt another ripple of shame go through her; surely the Hunter had seen the blood slicking her dress, and…the child… But the Hunter betrayed no look of disgust or mockery. She only looked locked eyes with Arianna and asked, “Are you hurt?”
Arianna trembled. “No,” she whispered. It was all she could manage.
“Good,” said the Hunter, and she smiled reassuringly. “Close your eyes, love. I’ll take care of this.”
She leaned back, and her intentions were obvious. A shudder of horror went through Arianna and without thinking she snatched the Hunter’s sleeve to draw her back. “No,” she gasped out, unsure where the strength came from but unable to stop herself. “No, please. Don’t.”
Thankfully, the Hunter stopped, and she looked to Arianna expectantly. If she was hoping for an explanation, Arianna had none to give other than, “She’s mine. Please don’t hurt her.”
The Hunter hesitated. Though a look of pity came into her face, it wasn’t nearly as derisive as Arianna expected. She covered Arianna’s hand clenched in her coat with her own. “Arianna,” she said, firmly but not without sympathy. “That is not a baby. You know that, don’t you?”
“I…” Arinna quaked again. “Yes,” she insisted breathlessly. “Y-Yes, I know, but…”
She looked. For the first time she forced herself to look upon the creature that she had birthed and not flinch away. It lay before her, its sluglike body twitching and squirming. It’s small, tendril-like arms blindly probed the space around it; its squishy, bulbous head tilted to and fro curiously. Softly it comforted itself with tiny, cooing chirps. It had no eyes, but it gazed up at her with adoration and wonder, as any child ought to view its mother. And she heard it.
A sound of water. Ripples, spreading out between them; a quiet, plink plink plink like little droplets, falling upwards within the cage of her chest. Liquid rising and falling, like a storm, but gentle. Like spring rain before sunrise.
“She’s mine,” she whispered, and her entire world grew dark but for the pale, plink flesh of the helpless creature before her, in all its incomprehensible purity. “I know she’s mine. Please. She’s mine - please.”
Again the Hunter shushed her, and she went so far as to cover her eyes, blotting out the hollow stalks of her daughter’s eyes. “Just a moment,” she said, and Arianna did not have the strength to defy her. She pulled something from a bag at her waist and unsealed it; immediately Arianna could smell the heavy, copper taint of blood. “Drink this.”
The bottle touched her lips. The glass was cool, but when she obeyed, taking a long sip of the thick sedative, it was deliciously warm on her parched tongue. She drank, and slowly the sound of dripping water receded from her ears. Even the shock and exhaustion of the past several hours became dull and dreamlike, amidst the Hunter’s soothing murmurs.
The Hunter saved half the bottle for herself. Once they had together drained the bottle, the Hunter lowered herself to one knee and took both of Arianna’s hands in hers. “Arianna, we can’t stay here,” she said. “And I don’t wish to leave you alone. Will you come with me?”
“I can’t,” said Arianna. “I can’t explain… But I cannot leave her alone, either.”
The Hunter gazed up at her, seeking. Pitying, perhaps, but not unkindly. At long last, she nodded. “All right. All right.”
She stood, and still holding Arianna’s hands, she urged her to do the same. Arianna did stand, though her knees wobbled and could barely hold her. She could feel the blood slick between her thighs and thought she might collapse at any moment. But then she licked her lips, and the remaining tang of the sedative centered her.
“Good,” the Hunter encouraged her. “Very good.” She tugged Arianna forward a step, away from the chair, so she could wrap her arm around her back. “Come, now.”
Arianna allowed herself to be led, though she could not help but look again to the child as she was drawn past it. “Wait—”
“It’s all right,” the Hunter told her again. “I won’t leave her; I promise.”
She led Arianna to the ladder that climbed up into the chapel. “Steady,” she said as she pressed Arianna’s hands, one by one, to the iron rungs. “Do you think you’ll be able to climb?”
“I think so,” said Arianna.
“Good.”
The Hunter leaned back. The moment she withdrew her support, Arianna faltered, but she managed to keep her hold on the ladder. As she moved away she shed her coat, and Arianna watched her use it to scoop the squirming child into her arms.
The creature cried out. The sound of it shook Arianna’s heart and turned her stomach with a feeling of panic so potent it clawed to be let out of her. Thankfully, it lasted only a moment; the Hunter rocked her burden gently as if she were as no other babe, soothing it and ceasing its cries.
“Go ahead,” the Hunter encouraged her. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Though there was plenty of cause for doubt, Arianna nodded, and she climbed up the ladder on weak legs. Once she was halfway up, she heard the thud of the Hunter’s boots on the rungs below her, and her spirits lifted. With a deep breath, she hastened her pace.
They made their way together into Oedon Chapel proper, and Arianna was struck by how quiet and still it had grown, compared to when she abandoned the chamber hours earlier. Warm, orange dawnlight seeped in through the open archways and stained glass windows. The incense had all but burned down, only a handful of candle flames sputtering weakly against the ends of their wicks. With so many extinguished, the stench of blood and gunpowder from the city was beginning to claw its way in, but gone were the distant growling and screaming of beasts. No longer could she hear the heavy, plodding steps of the church’s wardens, nor the clang of the chains, the howls of their hounds. Yharnam was finally, blissfully silent.
Gone, too, was the cynical old woman who had sat fretting in her bonnet all night. The bitter man and the cold-eyed nun as well. Of the few cityfolk who had managed to find sanctuary in the chapel that night, all that remained was her, and the kindly chapel acolyte, huddled in his tattered robe amongst the hollow lamps. He raised his head, and a look of genuine pleasure and relief came across his long, drooping face.
“Oh, my sweet dear,” he said, warming her. “I’m ever so glad you’re safe.” He straightened up as best he could with his twisted spine. “I feared the worst for you down there. I wish you would not have gone alone.”
“I’m…sorry to have worried you,” said Arianna, grateful that with his blind eyes, he would not see the terrible state she was in. “I needed a bit of privacy, is all.”
The Hunter stepped up alongside her, and in her arms, the child squealed quietly. At the sound of it, the acolyte turned his head sharply to listen. “Oh,” he said distractedly. Arianna could not tell then if he had identified the source. “Yes, of course.”
Arianna looked around the chapel again, confirming that there was no sign of the other occupants that had been within the chamber when she left. “But where is…?”
The acolyte’s face fell with grief, and Arianna regretted speaking so carelessly. Thankfully, the Hunter spoke up, saying, “It’s morning. The beasts are dead or gone. It’s safe, now.”
Arianna nodded. She took in a long breath and then exhaled, her entire body shaking, though somehow she remained on her feet. “Is this dreadful night truly over?”
“Yes,” said the Hunter, and she blinked about the chapel, bathed in morning gold, with a sudden wide-eyed innocence, as if she herself did not know what the words meant, or what came next. “The hunt has ended.”
“Is…” Arianna glanced to the sullen acolyte and lowered her voice. “In the city. Is there anyone out there left alive?”
The Hunter started to shake her head, but then she looked down at the bundle still cooing softly in her arms, and her expression softened. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “There may be others, safe behind barred doors.” She took in a deep breath, and a bit more light came into her eyes. “There’s a house I want to check—two young girls. Maybe…they made it.”
She lifted her head, seeking Arianna’s gaze; to Arianna’s astonishment, maybe even her comfort. That a woman so fierce and fearless would seek her encouragement gave her courage herself. “Yes,” she said, and she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Yes, I’m sure they did. You should go to them.”
The Hunter nodded again, and again she looked at the child she carried. Her eyes swam momentarily out of focus. Arianna understood very well what she was feeling. When she looked at the child herself, her mind began to blur, and she could again hear the little droplets rising up, up through her chest. Her heart ached and fluttered and spun about, and she didn’t know if she wanted to take her lovely babe to her chest, or rend her hair from her skull and flee.
“If you’re leaving,” the acolyte spoke up in his thin, hopeful voice, “do you need me to look after her?”
The two women turned. A smile tugged at the acolyte’s droopy lips, and he lifted his long, spindle arms in welcome. The Hunter did not move, looking to Arianna for consent. This, Arinna gave readily—ashamed that she did not yet have the courage to bear her daughter herself, but more than that, relieved. And so, with great tenderness, the Hunter stepped forward, and she lowered the wriggling bundle into the acolyte’s arms.
He accepted the child with the warmth of a father. His blind eyes pinched happily and he drew her close to his chest, sheltering her with his hunched body and thick robes. “There,” he murmured, rocking her. “Do not fret, dear heart. You’re quite safe here.” Shifting the child into the cradle of a single arm, he even offered her his hand. Her serpentine arms wrapped about his crooked fingers gleefully.
Arianna shook, joy so profound it might have been madness spilling silver laughter from her mouth. The Hunter touched her back and she quieted, but her gladness did not abate. “I’m going now,” said The Hunter. “If anyone still lives in the city, I’ll find them and bring them here—and food, and water, if I find any.” She squeezed Arianna’s shoulder and waited until she had her eyes to continue. “I will come back for you, Arianna. For you, and him, and the child. The four of us can quit this place together.”
“Yes,” said Arianna, though it would take some time before she could allow herself to believe that. “Be safe.”
“Always, darling,” the Hunter promised, and she took Arianna’s hand and kissed it as she bowed. Then she left, stalking out into the morning light with her cleaver gleaming at her side. Arianna said a prayer for luck, and then she moved to the acolyte’s side. She lowered to her knees, her wine-red dress overlapping his robes. His soft shoulder was a welcome place of rest for her weary head.
“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked with some concern.
“Yes.” Arianna closed her eyes, listening to the soft chirps of her alien daughter echoing through the old hall. “Thank you—I’m only tired.”
“As you should be.” He hesitated. “Would you prefer to hold her?”
“No, I…” Arianna shivered, again beset by guilt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “She is mine, but…it’s still difficult to look upon her. I do not know if I could bear to…”
“Shh, it’s all right,” he soothed, without an ounce of judgment. “You’ll get used to her, and she to you. You’re her mother, after all. In the meantime, I’m happy to look after her for you.” A playful note came into his tone as he tickled her pink, wrinkly skin. “She doesn’t bother me one little bit.”
Arianna smiled, though it was still not without melancholy. “Thank you. Thank you—you’ve done so much. You’ve kept us safe.” She stroked his hunched back fondly. “Won’t you tell me your name, kind sir? You who sheltered us when even the church herself would not?”
“Ahh,” he said, excited. He lifted his head as much as he was able, and she leaned in closer to hear. “Yes, Lady—I’d be honored to.”
He whispered his name in her ear, and her smile grew wide. Then the two of them settled, leaning on each other while they waited for the Hunter to return with hope for the new day.