Grief wasn't a foreign concept for Artorias.
He had lost his mother when he was still a child and could only watch through the years as his family began to distance themselves, until they all became akin to strangers.
In a way, he had lost them too.
In a way, he had grieved them as well.
But this pain in his chest, this sorrow, was far stronger than any he had experienced.
His friends passing hurt not because he cared less for his family, but because he never had the chance to learn to care for them. They were strangers to him now, figures from his childhood he couldn't truly recognise.
Artorias had been lonely for much of his life, lacking any friends or family to rely on. It wasn't until Solthia that he created a bond of friendship with someone, a bond which could have grown to be more.
After his mother's passing, his life had been one monotonous cycle of breathing and existing, with only some memories of a better time that slowly grew distant and forgotten.
Solthia had brought life back into him, had made him feel something other than dread and misery. Even surrounded by the ruins of this country and the abominations, she had given him happiness.
That was why Solthia's death had pained him so much. She wasn't just a friend, she was a hope of what his life could have been, a hope that died with her.
His cousin, on the other hand, felt like a chance for redemption. Their meeting had been accidental, and their time together was short. But he was family, a family he could finally relate to, a family he was growing closer to for the first time in nearly a decade.
Seirios had been someone he had instinctually clicked with; someone he was beginning to trust and was hoping he could one day rely on.
The chimera had ripped that chance out of his hands with a glee filled eye and a crooked smirk.
For his entire life, Artorias had felt nothing but misery, sorrow and grief. So, when Seirios had died in his arms, he finally allowed himself to feel something else.
That anger in his chest, that smouldering rage which he had grown from a tiny ember and kept at bay for as long as he could, finally consumed him, it had burned through all that he knew and left him an empty husk.
It was as unhealthy as it was self-destructive.
He knew that, and allowed it to happen anyway, for the simple reason that he was tired of being misery's companion, because he was tired of being dragged down by his emotional state.
It may have been unhealthy, but during these last two weeks, he didn't truly hate what he had become.
In a world ruled by the strong, he was one of the weakest. But that anger in his chest had pushed him to break from the predetermined mould presented and allowed him to become something more.
For the first time in his life, Artorias had felt strong, powerful.
Which was good, feeling powerful gave him the confidence he had always lacked. But that confidence had become twisted by pride and that pride had pushed him into arrogance.
In this ruined world, arrogance was just another way of calling someone dead.
Artorias understood that he didn't hate what he had become, he hated who he was becoming.
Now, after what felt like hours had passed, he sat silently in the shadows of that same rooftop. His tears had stopped long ago, and his bones no longer pulsed with any pain.
The Ghoul was long gone by now, and night was swiftly coming to an end. He would have to begin moving soon, but for now, he allowed himself the rare luxury of sitting down somewhere and relaxing.
He couldn't remember the last time he had done something as simple as sitting down with not a thought in his head.
His eyes ached from the tears, and he felt a dull headache pulsing through his skull, but he didn't let his healing factor work through them.
The pain, or the feeling of it to be exact, felt nice.
It felt deserved after his emotional breakdown and was something he wanted to stew on for longer. His shoulders felt lighter, and whilst he was far from being over his friends' deaths, he knew he had taken a step forward in his recovery.
Accepting their deaths, their ends, had been painful, heart breaking even, but it needed to be done. He couldn't keep going as he had for the past two weeks.
A cold breeze wafted through the rooftop, and he took comfort in the chilling wind as it brushed against his warm body and soothed the ache in his eyes. It may have come from a Fallen Spawn, but right now, he found it didn't much matter to him where it came from.
The anger wasn't the only thing he felt anymore.
'This feels nice,'
It was quiet and he felt calm, almost peaceful.
The break, he thought, was desperately needed.
His body may have recovered well, but his mind had yet to have a moment to rest and reset itself.
Artorias had carried many burdens on his shoulders these last few months, had come close to breaking and shattering too many times to count, but he had endured it all so far.
Until now, when he had finally crashed under the weight of everything, he held inside of him and came out all the stronger for it.
Reality would soon crash back into him, but for the first time since he had become an Ascended, he felt ready for it.
Because now that he could think clearly again, he knew that only two things mattered whilst he was still in this ruined city.
His battle against the chimera and his ability to reach the Eastern Garrison.
Artorias may have twisted and betrayed Solthia's and Seirios' last wishes, but he promised himself that he would make up for that by accomplishing both in the days to come.
Everything else that he carried would have to wait until he hopefully got out of here.