Hunter of Zero (Bloodborne/Familiar of Zero) ch.1

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The sliver of the moon forced through the windows of her room.

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière groggily collapsed onto her bed. The room around her was a masterpiece of luxury: wooden furnishings carved by the hands of master craftsmen, soft feather pillows designed to cradle even the most restless soul into peaceful slumber. Yet, none of it brought her solace. The weight of her thoughts was far heavier than the exhaustion pulling at her limbs. For a fleeting, treacherous moment, her heart froze with fear, ice spreading through her veins. But she crushed the feeling under the sheer force of her will. The Rule of Steel demanded nothing less. She was a Vallière, and fear had no place in her heart. She would not disgrace herself or her noble lineage by giving in to weakness. Tomorrow was meant to be her triumph, the day she would finally silence the jeers and doubts of those who mocked her.

Her chest burned with the sting of humiliation, the echoes of cruel laughter from her peers replaying mercilessly in her mind. Over and over again, the scornful voices looped, taunting her failure before it had even come to pass. But no more. Tomorrow, she would summon her familiar: her proof to the world that she was more than the whispered mockery of her classmates, that she was as great a mage as anyone could ever aspire to be.

She tried to sleep, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the void to claim her. But the weight in her chest refused to dissipate, no matter how hard she tried. She tossed and turned in her bed, shifting from one position to the next, but none brought her any closer to rest. Frustration bubbled over, flowing through her like an untamed river. Finally, with a growl, she sat up abruptly, her breath escaping in a sharp huff. The candlelight in her room had long since burned out, leaving everything cloaked in darkness. Only a single sliver of moonlight slipped through her window, casting a faint glow across the floor.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool floorboards. She stood and padded toward the window, her small, delicate fingers reaching for the heavy curtains. The fabric was soft beneath her touch, and she gripped it tightly, ready to shut out the outside world. But just as she began to pull, she stopped. Her gaze shifted, drawn to the night sky. She craned her head, peering out through the window, and her eyes sparkled as they caught the light of countless stars scattered across the heavens. The crescent moon hung high, its silvery glow sharp and luminous against the black expanse.

Tonight, the sky seemed far more beautiful than it ever had before. For a moment, Louise simply stared, captivated by the quiet majesty of it all. She knew much about the world: more than most gave her credit for. Her magic might be questionable but her mind was sharp, keen like a polished blade. She saw the constellations and for a brief moment wandered. Then, a queer thought entered her mind as the silver moon drenched her in its light. She drew her hand back from the fabric and clasped them together to pray. 

"Oh Founder," she whispered to herself, "guide my hand, steady my heart, and grant me the strength to prove my worth. Let your light shine upon me, so I may cast away doubt and show the world I am more than they believe. Please, do not let me fail. Grant me a familiar befitting your glory. Divine, beautiful, and powerful."

She hated how weak she sounded in the last part, a plea and desperate cry that if her peers heard would mock and belittle. But between herself and her the Founder Brimir, she allowed herself some comfort. She hoped that her prayer would be carried into the sky, to let Him hear it. She drew her hand back and glanced up at the moon. For a brief moment, she thought she was seeing things as the moon seemed to flicker. Louise decided that she simply was seeing things in her sleep deprived mind. She closed the curtains finally before turning for her bed. 

​It did not take long for sleep to find her that night. 

But it was not a peaceful sleep.

"Oh Flora, of the moon, of the Dream. Oh little ones, O fleeting will of the ancients..." 

Louise dreamed of a city she had never seen before, one that felt impossibly ancient yet pulsing with an eerie, unnatural life. The sky above it was black, yet twinkled with the silver pearly glimmer of stars. The silver moon loomed over the skyline, its light embracing the streets below. Towers of jagged stone and crooked spires stretched into the heavens, their silhouettes sharp and menacing against the white glow. The air reeked of decay and smoke, and a faint, sound of distant bells echoed through the labyrinthine streets.

Louise moved through the city, her fingers quickly finding her wand. She gripped it with an inch of her life as shadows danced along the edges of her vision, moving with a purpose she could not comprehend. She tried to speak, to call out, but the words caught in her throat, swallowed by the thick, choking air and the overpowering copper of blood. Her footsteps echoed unnaturally loud, as though the city itself was listening to her every move. She felt eyes upon her: thousands of them, watching, judging, waiting. Panic stirred in her chest, but she forced herself to keep moving. The Rule of Steel, she reminded herself. Even in the face of terror, she could not falter. 

As she rounded a corner, she came upon a figure hunched in the middle of the street. It was cloaked in rags, its back turned to her. In its hand, it clutched a gnarled, bloodstained weapon that looked more like a twisted piece of metal than a tool. She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to turn and run, but something compelled her forward.

"Excuse me," she managed to whisper, her voice trembling. "Where am I?"

The figure rose slowly, its movements jerky and unnatural. As it turned to face her, Louise's breath caught in her throat. Its eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, and its face was twisted into a grotesque mockery of humanity. It let out a low, guttural growl, the sound reverberating through her bones.

Before she could react, the creature lunged at her, its weapon raised high. Louise stumbled backward, her wand raised. She tried to cast a spell, but the words faltered as fear overtook her. The creature's blade came down...

And she woke with a start, gasping for air.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat upright in her bed, the soft glow of morning light spilling through the cracks. For a moment, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still there, in that nightmarish city. The air in her room felt heavy, and her skin was cold with sweat. She glanced around, half-expecting to see the twisted streets of Yharnam outside her window, but all she saw was the familiar opulence of her own room. Louise pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to calm. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream. She shook her head, dismissing the thought, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Today was the day of the summoning ritual. She had no time for frightful dreams.

+++

The courtyard was bathed in light, the stone tiles gleaming under the sun. In the center of the space stood the ritual circle, etched with runes and symbols that shimmered faintly as they caught the light. One by one, her peers stepped forward, performing their summons with varying degrees of flourish and ease. Elementals, beasts, and magical creatures appeared, each met with murmurs of approval or awe from the gathered students, their excitement and confidence palpable.

For most of her classmates, the walk to the courtyard felt both endless and far too short, the weight of expectation mixed with eager anticipation. But for Louise, her mind was elsewhere.

That dream.

It was far too real, far too vivid. Even now, she could feel the cold, suffocating air of that city pressing against her skin. She could still smell the stench of rot, the metallic tang of blood that clung to her senses like a second skin. It was unmistakable. Louise knew what blood smelled like. What woman didn't? It was a scent that accompanied moonlit nights, a silent companion to the unspoken truths of their bodies. But this had been different. More overwhelming. More sinister.

Her fingers tightened around her wand as the memory of that nightmare gnawed at her focus. She barely noticed as the students around her laughed and whispered, the hum of the ritual continuing without her acknowledgment.

"...Lady Vallière? Lady Vallière?" came Professor Colbert's voice, cutting through the haze of her thoughts.

Louise blinked, jolted back to reality. She realized with growing embarrassment that she had been staring blankly into the distance, her classmates' eyes now fixed on her. A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, rising in volume until it became a chorus of snickering and jeers.

"Maybe she's having second thoughts, Professor," sneered Kirche von Zerbst, her voice dripping with mockery. "Do you think she's finally realized she might blow herself up instead of summoning anything?"

The laughter swelled, and Louise's face burned with humiliation. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand tall despite the heat rising to her cheeks. She would not give Kirche or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

"Silence, Kirche," Professor Colbert said sternly, though his tone carried a hint of exasperation. "Lady Vallière, it is your turn. Please step forward."

Louise straightened her back, her grip on her wand tightening so hard her knuckles turned white. Without a word, she stepped toward the ritual circle, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on her like a physical force. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't let it show. The Rule of Steel demanded composure, and she would give them nothing less.

As she approached the circle, she could feel Kirche's smug stare boring into her back, the whispers of her classmates buzzing like flies in her ears. But she ignored them all. She had no time for their mockery. No time for doubt.

This was her moment.

She raised her wand, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière," she declared, her tone firm and unyielding. "In the name of the Founder, I call upon the sacred power of the void. Grant me a familiar, one who will be my companion, my shield, and my proof to the world!"

The incantation left her lips with precision, each word laced with determination. The runes within the circle began to glow, their light growing brighter and brighter as the ritual took hold. A gust of wind swirled around her, tugging at her hair and clothes, carrying with it a strange, otherworldly energy. Louise's heart raced as the light intensified, becoming almost blinding. Gasps and murmurs erupted from the gathered crowd, but she focused only on the ritual, her gaze fixed firmly on the center of the circle.

And then, with a deafening crack, the light exploded outward, engulfing the courtyard in a brilliant flash.

+++

Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhalt Zerbst had known this was coming the moment the so-called "Zero" took out her wand. No matter how hard Louise tried, her spells always ended in explosions. It was practically tradition at this point. As the telltale crackle of magic began to hum in the air, Kirche casually stepped behind a pair of the taller boys, letting them shield her from the inevitable blast.

And sure enough, the explosion came. The courtyard erupted in light and sound, a massive shockwave of dust and debris engulfing the area. Screams and panicked shouts echoed through the chaos, but Kirche barely flinched. She adjusted herself with a smirk, taking in the pandemonium as her chosen cover absorbed the worst of it.

Elation bubbled up within her as she imagined Louise's humiliation. Once again, the so-called "Zero" had lived up to her unfortunate nickname. But as the dust began to settle and the fog cleared, a small pang of pity crept in alongside the schadenfreude. This was a disaster. Louise might very well be expelled for this. Summoning a familiar was a sacred ritual, the cornerstone of a mage's identity. To fail so dramatically in front of everyone...Kirche couldn't imagine walking away from that. She glanced at her familiar, a flame salamander, and patted his head. 

And yet, as Kirche's sharp eyes scanned the courtyard, she realized something was wrong. Amid the coughing and uneasy murmurs of the crowd, her gaze was drawn to a shape emerging from the dissipating dust: a tall, shadowy figure standing where there should have been nothing but scorched stone.

Her smirk faltered as her eyes locked onto the figure. The first thing she noticed was the hat. A tricorne, dark and slightly weathered, perched atop the shape's head. Beneath it was the unmistakable outline of a man, draped in a long, flowing coat as black as midnight. The coat hung over equally dark trousers, the muted tones broken only by the subtle gleam of gold buttons on his waistcoat. Beneath the coat, a white shirt peeked out, pressed and pristine, cinched in place by intricate belts and buckles that spoke of both function and style. Despite the drabness of his clothing, the craftsmanship was undeniable. The cut of his coat, the stitching of his boots, the polished leather straps: everything about him exuded quality and wealth far beyond what a commoner could afford. He looked like a nobleman, or perhaps even a warrior of some forgotten lineage.

But then her eyes met his, and everything else faded away.

His eyes were deep, dark pools that seemed to drink in the light around them. They weren't just looking at her, they were piercing through her, as if peeling back the layers of her very being. Kirche felt her breath catch in her throat, her pulse quickening against her will. There was something profoundly unnatural about those eyes, something that made her skin crawl and her instincts scream. She forced herself to keep looking, trying to suppress the growing unease clawing at her chest. His skin, visible just above the black neck gaiter that covered the lower half of his face, was tanned like that of a Romalian, but there was an unhealthy pallor to it, as though he had spent a lifetime in shadows. Despite the sharpness of his features and the refinement of his attire, there was an overwhelming sense of wrongness about him. The way he stood, the way he stared at her and the others. 

At her side, Flame stood frozen, then stood on guard. No, many other familiars either entered guard mode, growling in warning at the strange man...or simply fled. The man cocked his head, and Flame cowered behind her. 

What...?

Her unease however was broken as Louise The Zero Vallière began to screech. 

"What is this!?" Louise cried. "This is my divine, beautiful, and powerful familiar!?" 

Louise's shrill voice shattered the stunned silence that had gripped the courtyard, her words echoing across the now-still crowd. She was trembling, her wand still clenched tightly in her hand, as she stared at the figure. Her cheeks were flushed with an overwhelming mixture of anger, disbelief, and humiliation.

"This can't be right! This...this isn't right!" she screeched, her voice breaking. Louise stomped her foot, her frustration boiling over. "You're supposed to be my companion! My proof as a mage!" she yelled, pointing her wand accusingly at the man. "What kind of familiar are you supposed to be? You don't even look magical! You're just some...some weird person! This is a mistake! There must be a mistake!"

The man, for his part, stood perfectly still, unmoved by the outburst. His head tilted slightly, as if he were observing her with a detached curiosity. His posture was relaxed but deliberate, as if he was out on a stroll and taking in the sights. The air around him seemed heavier, charged with an almost imperceptible tension, as though the very space he occupied resisted his presence. A ripple of unease passed through the crowd at her words. The other students, who had been whispering nervously amongst themselves, now exchanged wary glances. Even Professor Colbert, who had been watching silently from the sidelines, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

"Lady Vallière," he began cautiously, stepping forward. "The ritual was completed. Whatever or whoever this is, they are your familiar. The Founder has shown his will."

Louise whipped her head toward him, her eyes wide with desperation. "No! That can't be true! This isn't what I wanted! I refuse to accept it!"

The man leaned forward slightly, the subtle motion enough to silence even Louise, her protests dying in her throat as his piercing gaze turned on her, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Louise felt the weight of his stare, heavy and unrelenting, as though he were peering into the very depths of her soul. Louise's breath hitched. Her bravado crumbled, replaced by a cold, creeping fear she couldn't explain. She took an instinctive step back, her wand lowering slightly as her trembling hand betrayed her.

The man finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly, laced with an unfamiliar language. The crowd collectively held its breath as his words hung in the air. Louise flinched but managed to stammer a response. "I d-don't understand you!" 

He regarded her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. He went on one knee, like a knight does, and stared expectantly at Louise. With two fingers, he tapped onto his forehead. She did not need a translator to realize that he was offering himself to her. Taking in a breath, Louise steeled herself. She approached the kneeling man, and fighting the impropriety of the situation, intoned. 

"My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière," She raised her wand, tapping it against his forehead. "Pentagon that rules the five powers, bless this individual and make him my familiar!" 

​She withdrew her wand, and planted both her hands against his cheeks. They were not soft and untested like a boy's. No, they were rough, sharp, only how a man would be. This was for the ritual, she told herself, as he leaned in and softly put her lips against his through his neck gaiter. She withdrew quickly, rubbing at her lips as she could taste sweat and blood. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, reality seemed to converge. 

There was a scream, before Louise realized it was her own. She drew back, her hands grasping for her forehead, and pain coursed throughout her body. "Miss Vallière!" Professor Colbert yelled. Louise saw nothing else now as she fell to the ground, clawing at herself, and the man staring down at her with those cold, lifeless eyes. 

+++

Louise awoke to the cold, sterile air of a strange place. The world around her was muted, colors drained and gray. She lay on a wooden floor, polished to a dull sheen, the faint smell of ash and blood lingering in the air. Slowly, she sat up, her head spinning, and took in her surroundings. The room was dimly lit, illuminated by the faint glow of a lantern perched on a cluttered workbench. Tools and vials were scattered haphazardly across its surface, their purposes foreign and unnerving. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes bound in cracked leather, their spines etched with illegible scripts. A fireplace crackled softly on one side of the room, its warmth doing little to chase away the oppressive chill that clung to her skin.

As she turned her head, her gaze fell on the peculiar centerpiece of the room: a massive, ornate chair that looked more like a throne. Its dark wood gleamed faintly in the dim light, and its seat was cushioned with what appeared to be aged, weathered leather. Nearby, a weapon rack stood silent, holding an array of strange, brutal implements: saw-edged cleavers, massive hammers, and sleek, elegant blades. None of it made sense. Where was she? This couldn't be Tristain. Louise's heart pounded as she began to feel the weight of the place, as though the walls themselves carried the memories of pain and death.

Her breath caught when she heard it. Soft, deliberate footsteps echoing from beyond the room's far corner. Louise froze, her hands clutching the fabric of her skirt as the sound grew closer. The rhythm was measured, each step clicking against the wooden floor. She turned toward the sound, her heart racing, and her throat tightening with a fear she couldn't explain. From the shadows emerged a tall, ethereal woman. Her movements were graceful, almost gliding, and her pale skin seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. The woman wore a simple yet elegant gown of brown and mulberry, her figure slender and statuesque. Her face was serene, almost doll-like, her features unnervingly perfect. But it was her eyes that sent a shiver down Louise's spine.

The woman approached without a word, her footsteps unnaturally silent now that she was closer. Louise tensed as the figure knelt beside her, her every instinct screaming to recoil, to run. But she couldn't move. The woman's hand reached out, slow and deliberate, brushing against Louise's cheek. Her touch was cool and gentle, like the caress of satin. Louise's fear ebbed for a moment, replaced by a strange sense of calm. It was as though the woman's very presence muted the chaos in her mind, silencing the questions and fears that had been screaming moments before. The woman tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, and just as her lips began to part as though to speak...

Louise jolted awake, gasping for air. Her heart thundered in her chest as her vision focused on the familiar sight of her canopy bed. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting warm hues over her room. She clutched her blankets tightly, her skin clammy with sweat, as the remnants of the dream lingered in her mind. Her cheek still tingled with the sensation of the doll's touch, as if it had been real. Shaking, Louise pressed her hands to her face, trying to steady her breathing. It was only a dream, she told herself.

"Tea, my lady?" A soft voice entered her ears, rich despite its quiet. 

Louise blinked again, her thoughts sluggish as she tried to process what she was seeing. "What…?" she murmured, her voice hoarse. She turned to see a tricorne-wearing man stand beside her bed who then bowed slightly at the waist, his movements precise and practiced. 

"You appeared to have had a restless day, my lady. A warm cup of tea should help ease your nerves." He declared as he stepped forwards, his boots making no sound against the floor, and placed a tray gently on her bedside table. Louise stared at him, her mind racing now. Did they hire new staff for the Academy? But something was wrong. Her eyes drifted upward, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the tricorne hat resting on his head....

Her breath caught in her throat as recognition hit her like a thunderclap. It was him!

"You!" Louise shrieked, her voice breaking as she shot up in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest as though they could shield her from him. "You're my familiar!?"

The man remained unflinching, his expression unreadable as he regarded her outburst. He tilted his head slightly, as if her reaction were no more than a minor inconvenience. "Indeed, my lady," he said simply, his tone betraying neither pride nor irritation. "I am bound to serve you."

Louise pointed a trembling finger at him, her face flushed with a mixture of fury and disbelief. "You, how are you here!? What are you doing in my room!?"

The man straightened, his gloved hands clasped neatly behind his back. "You had passed out from earlier and needed rest. Thus, I took the liberty of checking you into the clinic but feeling that you might need your privacy, I took you back to your room." His gaze flickered briefly to the tea on the bedside table. "It seemed appropriate."

"Appropriate!?" Louise's voice rose to a near-screech as she scrambled to the edge of the bed, her fists clenched. 

The man's lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as though he were suppressing a smirk. "I did not expect the one to summon me to be so passionate. I humbly ask my lady to lower her volume. It is night and your peers are trying to sleep." 

Louise let out an exasperated scream, burying her face in her hands. This couldn't be happening. This had to still be part of the nightmare. But when she peeked through her fingers, he was still there, standing tall and composed, his presence both infuriating and unsettling.

"Get out!" she snapped, pointing toward the door. "Out of my room! Right now!"

"Very well, my lady," he replied smoothly, bowing his head. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements as fluid and deliberate as ever. But just before he exited, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

"Should you require anything else, my lady, do not hesitate to call for me."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Louise trembling as a storm of emotions churned inside her. Anger, confusion, embarrassment...fear. Her eyes remained fixed on the door, as if expecting him to reappear at any moment, that unnervingly calm expression still plastered across his face. She felt lightheaded, her chest tightening as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. This was real. It was all real. She had truly summoned that man and he was now her familiar.

Her familiar.

The thought made her stomach twist. A mage's familiar was supposed to be a reflection of their magic, a symbol of their identity, their pride. Louise had dreamed of summoning something grand, something powerful and awe-inspiring, like a majestic dragon or a noble griffin. Instead, she'd summoned…him. A man who looked like he had stepped out of a nightmare, whose presence felt as though it didn't belong in this world. How did that reflect on her? She wasn't like the others who could practice their magic at ease, her magic was unusual, a void where others had talent! Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she thought of the others. This was just more fuel for their scorn!

Louise clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to steady herself. She couldn't let this break her. She wouldn't. This was her familiar now, whether she liked it or not. The Founder had made his will clear, and she would have to find a way to make this work. Somehow. But as she sat there, staring at the untouched teacup beside her bed, she couldn't shake the sinking feeling that she had summoned more than just a familiar. She had summoned something dangerous. Something beyond her understanding. 

And so, she summoned him again and this time, she sat elegantly. He walked in with the same air of confidence she had seen only a few people could muster. It reminded her of her father in a way. But this was not her father. This was her familiar and she was going to set some ground rules and boundaries. Establish dominance, her mother had told her once.

"My lady," he greeted her with a bow. 

Well, at least he was courteous. 

"My name," Louise began, lifting her chin and straightening her back as she sat on the edge of her chair. It was unsightly for a noble to assert themselves on the bed.  "is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. I am the third daughter of the Vallière family, a noble house of Tristain with a long and proud history tied to the Founder Himself." She gestured sharply toward him with her wand, her voice growing stronger with each word. "You are my familiar, bound to me by sacred magic, and you will address me as Master at all times. Do you understand me?"

The man stood calmly across the room, his posture impeccable, hands clasped neatly behind his back as though her words were merely a passing breeze. 

"As you wish, my lady," he said smoothly, bowing his head again with such grace that it almost seemed mocking. "Your will is my command."

Louise narrowed her eyes. She didn't like how effortlessly he responded, how unbothered he seemed by her attempt to assert herself. Most familiars at least displayed some resistance, some instinct to challenge their mage's authority before being forced into submission. But this man…he yielded too easily, as though he were humoring her.

"You are not to speak unless spoken to," she continued, her voice growing louder, her confidence bolstered by her own words. "And you will obey my every order without question. That is the role of a familiar: to serve and protect their master! No more, no less!" She leaned forward slightly, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand. "Do I make myself clear?"

The man remained unmoved, his dark eyes meeting hers with an unsettling calm. "Perfectly, my lady."

Louise faltered for a moment, her breath hitching as his gaze bore into her. She had expected defiance, perhaps even a hint of frustration, but instead, his eyes carried a quiet intensity that made her feel as though she had walked right into a trap. It wasn't threatening, not exactly, but there was a weight to his presence that made her stomach churn.

Still, she refused to let him see her falter. "Good," she said sharply, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms, trying to exude the authority she felt slipping from her grasp. "I expect you to assist me in my magical studies and defend me from harm. I want my clothes ironed and set every morning. You must follow me wherever I go. Do you understand me?" 

"Crystal clear," her familiar replied. Louise's patience broke. 

"Stop that!" Louise snapped, her frustration boiling over as she gestured wildly at him. "That tone! That...that calmness! Like you're just humoring me! Like none of this matters!"

Her familiar tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering across his otherwise impassive face. "Humoring you, my lady? I assure you, my tone is one of utmost sincerity."

"Utmost sincerity!?" Louise repeated, her voice rising in pitch. She slammed her hands down on the desk in front of her, leaning forward as though trying to physically press her dominance into the space between them. "You're mocking me! I can feel it!"

The man's lips quirked behind his neck gaiter, not quite a smile, but just enough for Louise to catch it. It was subtle, maddeningly subtle, and it only made her temper flare hotter. "I would never presume to mock you, my lady," he said, his voice smooth. "You are my master, and I am bound to serve you. It is not my place to question or undermine your authority."

"Then act like it!" Louise yelled, stomping her foot in sheer exasperation. "You're supposed to be obedient! Submissive! Not standing there like you own the room!"

For a moment, there was silence. The kind of silence that pressed down on Louise's chest and made her feel small despite her best efforts to project strength. The man regarded her with that same unsettling calm, his dark eyes unreadable yet impossibly sharp, as though he were dissecting her with his gaze alone. Finally, he spoke, his words deliberate and soft, yet carrying a weight that made Louise shiver. "Forgive me, my lady, if my demeanor displeases you. I simply assumed you would prefer a familiar who could serve you effectively without needing constant correction."

Louise's mouth opened, a retort ready on her tongue, but nothing came out. The sheer audacity of his words left her stunned. Was he implying that she was incompetent? That she couldn't handle a familiar who acted with a mind of his own? Her cheeks burned, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

"You!" she started, her voice trembling with indignation. "You don't get to decide what I assume! I summoned you, so you'll act how I tell you to act! You're my familiar, and you'll obey me without question!"

"Of course, my lady," he replied, bowing his head slightly. But there it was again, that faint, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, the same subtle motion that made Louise want to scream.

"Stop that smirking!" she shouted, pointing her wand at him as if the gesture alone could wipe the expression from his face.

"Smirking?" he repeated, raising a gloved hand to his face in an exaggerated motion, as though considering her accusation seriously. "I assure you, my lady, I am merely listening attentively to your commands."

"You're impossible!" Louise yelled, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Utterly impossible!"

The man straightened, his gaze softening just enough that Louise could almost convince herself he was being genuine. "I apologize if my behavior has caused you distress, my lady," he said smoothly. "It is my duty to ensure your satisfaction in all things. If you wish, I can practice looking more...submissive."

He said the word with such a timble that Louise cringed, covering her face with her hands. "I don't need you to practice! I need you to act like a proper familiar!"

"As you wish," he replied.

Louise peeked through her fingers at him, her frustration giving way to exhaustion. This wasn't going the way she had planned. She had wanted to assert her dominance, to establish herself as the clear master in their relationship, but no matter what she said, no matter how hard she tried to press him, he remained calm, unshaken, and worse, amused!

"Ugh!" she groaned, flopping back into her chair. "Just...just go clean something. Or stand in a corner. Or do anything that doesn't involve driving me insane!"

Her familiar bowed deeply, the gesture so formal it bordered on theatrical. "As you command, my lady," he said, turning sharply on his heel and leaving the room with the same fluid grace as before.

Louise glared at the door as it closed behind him, her chest heaving with frustration. "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered, burying her face in her hands.

+++

A/N: You got an eldritch God who has decided he wants a vacation and the best way to do that is to troll. If people won't mind, I will keep most of the PoV's from the eyes of the FoZ characters, with the Good Hunter's coming in only a few times. 

And yes, the Bloodborne/FoZ fic won. I am rather pleased with it. I hope yá'll are too.