#[mohg]: beloved son of blood

[thefirsteldenlord]

"Mohg? What are these 'allegations' thoust hath slain? T'was it a mighty foe?"

[velvet-apricots]

Marika Rebels

Marika kneeled before the Emissary of the Greater will, head bowed as she sat within the Erdtree. Her dusty face was streaked from tears shed. So many tears for her eldest child. 

For her boy that now rotted at the roots of the Erdtree.

Her back was marred with cracks from her shattering of the Elden Ring, a fit of rage against the being that destroyed her.

All she had left was Godwyn. Miquella and Malenia left her, Mohg and Morgott were lost to the sewers both.

And now Godwyn was gone.

The Greater Will demanded repentance. It demanded control.

It demanded order, for it was order itself.

It remained still, but its interest was waning. For life was chaos.

And there was no greater proof of its chaos then war.

Marika lifted her head, her grief fueled rage renewed. She would tear it all down. All for her sons to Godfrey, the only man who she loved. Godwyn, and the twins who’s memories she clung to.

Even her beautiful treacherous twins who left her. Because they were cursed by the Gods the Greater Will deemed the enemy.

She would bring a war unlike any other. For her remaining children were like her. Burning with flames of ambition.

 “I am the Queen Eternal. I shall not be thy dog. I shall not heel.”

The Beast reeled back at the defiance, brandishing a spear. Marika bared her teeth, resisting as Radagon tugged upon her body, demanding he be the one in control.

She was god upon the earth. She had power. She would not be silenced, tormented, and maimed into compliance. She would chase the Greater Will and its need for order out of the lands between. Banish the thing that shattered her to pieces.

“Hear me, Demigods. My children beloved…”

The spear came down and ripped through her chest, her body further cracking away. She spilled no blood, for the beast would never draw it.

She was stone, and stone did not bleed.

“Make of thyselves that which ye desire. Be it a Lord. Be it a God.”

Her children, her blood, all heard her words. 

Even Godwyn’s soulless husk heard, his milky eyes gazing skyward as death infected the golden roots which tried to claim him.

“But should ye fail to become aught at all, ye will be forsaken. Amounting only to sacrifices-”

Her voice caught in her throat, her own hands clasped tightly around it, squeezing as Radagon finally silenced her.

The beast loomed overhead, and she knew she would not be leaving this tree.

But she still had faith. She was the golden order. She was the god that walked upon the earth. Oh she may be strung up and tormented for an eternity, but this was her land.

It was her grace. And this was her tree. They may seal it off, prevent everyone from entering.

But nothing prevented her from reaching out.

And she had planned this. From the moment the last Giant fell and her first husband lost his grace.

She had planned to break free of her curse. If not that day, then one day.

This day. When she had nothing left.

So come ye tarnished. 

Come and return home.

Come and slay the beast that binds me.

Come and free me.

Come my one true Lord. 

Come return to mine side.

[omenfailure]

As much as I like the idea that Marika had some sort of emotional attachment to her offspring, I believe Marika didn't care much, if not at all. I don't think she cared that Morgott and Mohg were Omen.

I also believe they were placed in the Shunning Grounds for their own safety, since knights and perfumers were roaming the streets and walls. Being locked away was a privilege, saved by their royal blood. Although it wasn't ideal, it was preferable to certain death.

The only Demigod Marika truly cared for was Godwyn, he was her beloved son, a symbol of the Golden Order and new beginnings. His assassination sparked the Shattering, so I'm certain she cared significantly.

[of-death-and-daffodils]

lil quick info about my elden ring ocs:

Ophelia, The Royal Oracle: Beloved consort of Maliketh, The Black Blade. Was the royal oracle to Queen Marika. Gifted immortality by Marika (her immortality is tied to Maliketh’s) and was eventually poisoned which had put her in a coma allowing the night of the black knives to not be predicted and during that time in her coma her and Maliketh lost their memories of each other. (Follows canon. Not Tarnished and is more so an NPC. Full backstory here )

Lynwen, The Sunlight Knight: [Canon Divergent] Tarnished, starts off her journey wanting to help and fix the lands inbetween, specializes in dragon communion magic and gravity magic, has romantic feelings for Alexander, starts the age of stars but turns it away and grows jaded after having to kill her best friend Blaidd, grows more jaded after having to kill Alexander, starts the age of blood (a really cool au made by @bowietea) but eventually goes against it and kills Mohg, her story ends with her killing the elden beast and becoming the new elden lord but due to dragon communion magic she becomes a magma worm. Makes herself not only the Elden Lord but the Elden Beast as well so she is both the protector and destroyer of the Elden Ring. (Follows canon mostly with some changes)

Gwawr, The Sandman: A self aware beastman from Farum Azula, drapes himself in purple tapestries and is a follower of St. Trina, travels around selling sleep based incantations, sleep pots, sleep grease, trina lilies, sleep arrows, sleep bolts, etc. Has a little human child that stays with him that he has taken in as his son that he protects with his life. (Follows canon. Not Tarnished and like Ophelia is more so an NPC)

Seraphina, The Fire Blooded: [Canon Divergent] Tarnished, a once kind hearted omen woman who hid her omen nature before the shattering, would help other omens and any misbegotten she encountered, eventually was found out to be omen and became a prisoner, was executed which is how it was found out she was tarnished, lost her memories of her past and grew to be cruel and psychotic, has a strong hatred for humanity, a devout follower of Mohg, goes through with the flame of frenzy ending but goes even further by killing the three fingers so that she may become a goddess of flame and chaos, has a weird obsession with Mohg and wishes to take him as her consort, intends to kill Miquella as well to further her goal (For a completely fucked up and evil AU)

[quesoquejoso]

🍒🍑🍌🍈!!! (I want to ask them all but I am restraining myself)

(sorry the answers are not in order kksjsks)

🍌

«—Me siento adulado de que me considere así. No cabe duda, no todos los sinluces son, válgame la redundancia, pocas luces.»

I hate that I can't translate this fucking joke well to English, because it's fucking stupid. I went entire circus mode when writing it and I don't like the translation.

Sinluz (lightless) is the Spanish localization for Tarnished and pocas luces is an expression used when someone is dumb. And it's fucking redudant because Sinluz and Poca luz mean almost the same (absence of light)

I don't really like the translation and even you pointed it when you betaed my chapter (I still have to write you some doubts about the corrections but im fucking slow at everything 🐢🐢 jksjsksj)

🍑

I'm gonna confess that one of my main inspirations when writing Eleonora is (this is fucking stupid yea it is jksjsksj) CASSIE FROM EUPHORIA. Yea they're mentally unstable women who rely on people who don't really love them and build toxic relationships around them. So my idea is to write a fic in my AU in which Eleonora goes full Cassie about her relationship with Yura (or with Mohg).

🍒

Relationships with power dynamics, I love writing characters using that power to manipulate others.

🍈

My beloved Eleonora, I love her with my whole life and because of that, I torture her. She's a powerful and prideful woman but she's frail and somewhat broken. She's at the verge of breakdown in my fic and I can't wait to write it!!

She's a canvas, so I can give her a lot of headcanons and maybe not many people will agree but they're mine and mine alone. Let's go.

Eleonora calls the dynasty "her family" and Mohg "her brother" because —according to her— they share the same mother (The Formless Mother). Mohg has never called her his sister and has never seen her as such.

She is blindly devoted to the formless mother. She'll do anything for her and for the "rebirth of blood"

Eleonora likes to hunt tarnished and often challenges other bloody fingers to do the same. Although she tries to get close to her other companions, she does not succeed.

The only person she has a close relationship with is Varré. Their relationship is complex, theyre close friends although Varré at first only saw her as a piece to get to Mohg. They do have a mutual esteem for each other that they have build over time.

Their relationship is very intimate, even sexual but they feel no real attraction (romantic, at least) for each other.

Eleonora fervently believes that she can "change Yura's mind" about the bloody fingers, but this is not the case.

Eleonora likes to remind herself and to every other member of the Dynasty, that she is the most lethal bloody finger and also the favorite. She can get cocky about it.

Yea. I love her. My queen my princess my whore my goddess

[luminaryofblood]

Miquella had a point... Bewitchment was not something that Mohg had ever once taken into consideration.

... But indeed, Morgott was very firmly of the mind that he must atone for being an omen.

Horns, and tail. Aspects that forever brought shame to Morgott. Contrasting Mohg, who came to pride himself for what he was.

"Nay, Morgott is far too humble to take his mother's hand in marriage."

Mohg wasn't sure if he should laugh or balk over such a notion... He would sooner taken Rennala's hand than that of the mother who forsook him.

"In truth, he is far too humble to take anyone's hand... I will say it simply: to taint a womb with his seed would be akin to unleashing Frenzied Flame upon the Lands Between."

A quip that the Lord of Blood chuckled over. But his amusement over Morgott's self inflicted celibacy faded.

"Perhaps, if he had someone by his side. Be it woman. Be it man. Be it human. Be it omen. Be it dragon. It might help soften his otherwise hardened heart... But I digress.

I do not believe it is Morgott's intent to usurp... But with the absence of the queen, it leaves no one to occupy the throne," said Mohg.

"Why else are the shardbearers warring amongst themselves? Because they all covet the same thing... Demigods, and Tarnished, emboldened by the flame of ambition to which he so vehemently condemns... And yet he himself is not without ambition, for is it not ambitious to seek acceptance by one to whom you look up to?

Only, the queen, Marika, has vanished. And not a trace of her is to be found... He may never earn Marika's love, or approval. And yet he would seek to uphold her principles. Damn him."

For a moment, the Lord of Blood looked away, gazing outward, into the faux starry sky of the palace grounds and beyond.

Marika... The greatest riddle of the ages.

Mohg's mind was swimming amongst the stars beneath the earth.

Marika, the Eternal Queen who, in her grief over the death of her beloved son Godwyn, shattered the Elden Ring, and thus cast the Lands Between into chaos...

A soft, rumbling hum was heard as the Lord of Blood stroked the horns on his chin.

... Marika had two consorts: the first being Godfrey, the first Elden Lord, and it was with Godfrey that she bore three sons: the omen twins, Morgott and himself, and Godwyn the Golden - the beloved.

Her second was red-haired Radagon, a warrior of the Golden Order who once crossed swords and love with Rennala of the Full Moon, A bond that saw to the birth of Rykard, Radahn, and Ranni.

When grace was lost from Godfrey's eyes, the first Elden Lord was banished. And thus she called upon Radagon to take his place, thus becoming the second Elden Lord. And it was the union between Marika and Radagon that saw to the birth of Miquella and Malenia.

... The Elden Ring was shattered after the Night of the Black Knives, when Godwyn the Golden was assassinated...

... And Marika disappeared...

... But...

Mohg looked back upon Miquella with an expression most quizzical.

"... Whatever became of the lord Radagon?"

[luminaryofblood] Subtlety wasn't exactly a forte of Mohg's. Given his enormous size, each footfall was accompanied by a rumble as the Lord of Blood made his approach.

He knelt down behind his beloved empyrean. Drawing the red silken scarf that was wrapped around his shoulders, he brought it around Miquella's own.

"The night grows ever chill... May this bring you warmth, my beloved."

Miquella sat, watching out into the night when Mohg came. He accepted the scarf, which was more like a blanket on his small frame. It was a thoughtful gesture, and Miquella was almost... relieved that it was Mohg's. The humans who followed him, in particular, held him to be too pure to ever give him something they had used.

"Thank you."

Miquella had been mulling over much. He was half-tempted to put himself to sleep for a respite. But he had questions, and he needed information. His needles had a certain ability to ward away influence, but the question was, which influences should and should not be prevented? He was toying with a new theory.

"I wish to know something about the blood god you follow. Is she in all blood, or is it only certain kinds of blood? How does she weave into life? And death, if death had not been removed, or if it is restored?"

[thefirsteldenlord]

I feel like Godfrey could just be having a decent day where hes ok, and then Mohg comes to him after cleaning out his quarters and gives him books that were journals written and signed by Godwyn and Godfrey is just like

[thefirsteldenlord]

"I want mommy, I want milk, I want to be held, I want to be comforted-"

-Mohg and Morgott

[thefirsteldenlord]

Leave it to Godfrey to have the most inappropriate reaction to the recent event befallen by his poor son.

Was that his son or cat? He thought to himself after he saw the massive figure jump high into the sky. For a moment he looked so graceful, Godfrey could only stand and watch in shock. Then he saw the omen fall straight down, making a crashing sound so loud he swore you could hear it all the way from the weeping peninsula.

And then, he broke. His calm composure eroded away as he fell into a quickly growing fit of laughter. It started as a hushed snicker, but grew into howling laughter. It was loud and boisterous. It was so stupid it was hilarious. Then he wonders if Serosh taught him that.

That thought just made him double over in laughter, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

[luminaryofblood]

A mother most cruel... But though Miquella and Malenia bore their own curses, they, two, were exempt from the punishments dealt upon himself and Morgott; to which Mohg would forever be envious.

Miquella bore her face... And though Mohg had no recollection of meeting Marika for himself, he knew her through the statues erected in her likeness all across the Lands Between. He knew her for the talisman he once bore - a talisman of which he kept locked away - shaped in her image.

And he recognized Miquella as a son of Marika for his likeness to her image... Even if he were but shorter in stature, though Mohg was loath to ever point out such a detail to the young empyrean.

It... Brought a slight smile to his face. Though one that was difficult to discern.

Miquella, who looked so much like his mother. But lacked in her cruelty.

... Even when Miquella looked upon him, Mohg felt a sense of embarrassment. A warmth in his cheeks. A flutter of his heart... A slight... Filling, for the hole within his breast. Perhaps not enough to fill in the gap in its entirety. But nevertheless, it helped bridge the chasm, to which Mohg felt a sense of gratitude.

But his smile faded. A sorrow in his eye as the empyrean spoke of Martyrdom. Of which Mohg could only - once more - think of Morgott.

"... Morgott has devoted himself to defending the Erdtree for many years," Mohg started. "Concealing himself from the people he presides over... They would riot were they to learn of his true nature... One day... One day another Tarnished will stand before that tree. And he will be there to confront them... But the Erdtree wards off all who deign approach. He will die to protect it... And for what?"

He rubbed his arm... A childhood habit of his.

"... The Mother of Truth craves wounds... I would peel the flesh from my back if it please her... But his blood I could never spill... Nor yours, my lord - my dearest - beloved Miquella."

In case the little empyrean felt a hint of jealousy.

The castle was always veiled in silence.

The young Empyrean had tried to change it, letting the spirits created by his own hands fill the half-empty rooms with their sounds and whistles. However, their sudden disappearances after a while of keeping Miquella company left, once again, a sepulchral silence that caused a certain ringing in his ears. He should be used to it. He should think that the silence was temporary until the travelers appeared.

Frustration was building up in Miquella's belly like an accumulation of nausea that would not leave him alone, a feeling of vertigo that would not disappear until he left the castle.

But, at that moment, the young Empyrean refused.

There was so much to explore and decorate within those walls, that giving up was not an option. Not if he wished the travelers would decide to stay a while longer. So, ignoring the ringing in his ears, Miquella made his way into one of the empty rooms with an unfinished canvas and some some colors created with the crushing of flowers and leaves.

Malenia's face was beginning to be a blur in his mind. If he didn't finish it soon…

No. He had to ignore that.

The young Empyrean could see the paint staining his clothes and skin, though it was the last thing that bothered him.

"...Please, don't fade away," he muttered to himself.

@luminaryofblood

[thefirsteldenlord]

The Light at The End of The Tunnel.

Short dabble that continues after Mei takes Serosh for her health and comfort and leaves Godfrey at the Erdtree to burn the thorns alone. It goes well...?

CW: Fire, death, seduction, hallucinations.

Godfrey treaded slowly towards the spear he left on the ground close to the thorns. There was now a puddle of fire grease beginning to form on floor as it traveled away from the thorns. From observing the size of the puddle, Godfrey can now only pray what fire grease is left on the thorns will be enough to ignite the entrance with his spear.

There wasn't much time left for Godfrey to waste by pondering. He carefully took the spear into his hand and lifted it from pool of grease surrounding it. With it secure in his grip, he began to step away from the stairs leading to the thorns. Once he stood at the bottom and had a clear sight of the thorns ahead, he readied his stance and aimed.

He paused in silent contemplation. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. Am I really about to do this? He thought to himself. All the possible outcomes swam around his mind, the worst being the Erdtree burned to a crisp, but the thorns remaining untounched. The worst thing about that scenario is Godfrey can actually see the Greater Will pulling a cruel joke like that. Even if it's beloved Erdtee would be the expanse, it would probably love to punish Godfrey with that for the smallest sort of blasphemy that's ever left his lips. It would probably love to take Leyendel and his sons away from him too for being this close to burning the Erdtree- even if he has no other choice.

Godfrey's thoughts suddenly halted by the sound of the grease dripping on the floor. He snaps his gaze down at the drip, seeing how it emitted smoke as it hit the ground. He watches it smoke silently for a few moments, attempting to spark and sizzle. Ultimately, it fails and goes back to a dormant state. He glances at the spea, the smoke and heat emanating from it could be felt close to his hand and face.

With his attention now refocused on the thorns, he took aim again. He quickly thrusted the spear back to aim, making the grease on it spark and crackle, creating small flames along the base and tip. When the fire threatened to burn Godfrey's hands, he finally threw it towards his target.

In the air, the friction forced the fires to spark even further, making the spear look more akin to a fireball. It hits it mark and explodes, letting out a loud whine of sizzling and cracking as the fire grew rapidly in just a span of a few seconds. It quickly grows past the shape of where the grease and cotton balls sat along the thorns and reaches the edges of the entrance. It's barely was held back by the non-flammable liquid coating the inside walls of the Erdtree. The fire is huge, angry, and roared at Godfrey and the heavens with fury, and it craved for more than the tiny space it's confined to. The light and heat emanating from it burns a deep orange, glowing brightly at the base of the erdtree and the throne room.

Only until now that Godfrey realizes he didn't plan on what he was going to do as the fire did it's job. He didn't bring anything to occupy himself, not like he would be able to anyway. The flames proved themselves to be more aggressive than he originally anticipated. The risk of it all ending in disaster is too great to take his focus away from it. No, the only thing left to do now was sit and watch the fire with baited breath.

So watch it he did. He kneeled before the roaring flame just ahead of him in the throne room. He watched the flames dance about the entrance inside the Erdtree. He follows the trail of embers that would bloom outside of the fires grasp and float to the floor. He listens closely for any crackle heard from within, offering to give any hope that his plan is working.

And... it seems to be working? Slowly, oh so slowly, tiny thorns that were visible behind the wall of flames began to poke out as they begin to shrivel and fall to the ground, smoking and charred black.

Godfrey can feel the years melt away. Decades of lost energy and vigor coming back all at once upon seeing the first fragment of thorns hitting the ground. Hope! After all these years, there is finally hope! He can become elden lord now. He can take the throne and bring order and peace to The Lands Between. Make Mei happy, and make his son's proud. He can provide a world he's always wan-

...

Is... is the seal glowing? There's a faint yellow light poking through the flames. It takes the shape of Radagon's seal and... it pulses. Like a heartbeat. But with every beat, it glows brighter, almost like it was crawling through the flames.

On instinct, Godfrey quickly rose to his feet and grabbed his axe. He swings it forward and prepares himself for a potential battle. He doesn't know what he's expecting though. Was he expecting Radagon to walk through the flames and fight him? Was he expecting both Radagon and Marika's godly vassal to come out and fight him? What if it's Maliketh? What if it's all three? What's he going to do then?!

The seal bursts amongst the flames. Godfrey freezes, watching as the flames dissipate instantaneously and makes way for golden shards and mist that floats gently in the air. The world feels like it's coming to a screeching halt as he watches a dark figure walk past the gold. It was tall, slender, supporting long flowing hair.

Could it be?

"M-marika?" Godfrey rasped through a dry throat.

The figure did not respond. It only approaches from the entrance, it's figure slowly revealing itself as her truly. Her image, divine and beautiful in every single way. It matched every single curve, every single strand of golden hair. She stood before him at the stairs, her arms held out to him for an embrace.

Godfrey didn't hesitate. "Marika! Marika I hath returned!" He drops his axe. He sprints towards her, arms open and swelling with hope. As he rapidly approaches her, his vision goes white, all sense of touch fades away. Still he attempts to reach her embrace, but as soon as he makes contact with her, every sense is suddenly halted. He hears white noise, he sees only white, and he can only feel his heart pounding. Then it all disappears, fading to an inky black silence that stills him to his core.

Godfrey wakes up at the site of grace in the throne room. Light slowly flooding his blurry sight. A cool breeze blowing past him, almost making him shudder. The ringing in his ears is gone, now left to hear the sound the of the breeze flowing through trees and birds chirping. As he rises from the sight of grace, he took in his surroundings. It's morning, looking to be past 7 am. The Erdtree is still standing tall and shined a brilliant gold underneath the morning sun. At least the tree is fine. He thinks to himself. His gaze turn slowly trails down towards the trunk, seeing char marks that became bigger and more deep as it reached the entrance to the inner walls.

The inner walls and entrance inside the erdtree is a heart wrenching sight to see. It's completely charred black and strewn with ash and rubble from the thorns, marble pillars, and bark from the Erdtree. While the majority of the thorns remained sealed to the entrance, they're shriveled and severely charred. But the fire had made way for it create holes in the seal, bright golden rays shining through the holes through the broken thorns. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of it. It worked! It didn't work like how he hoped, but it still worked! Progress was finally made. There is hope in sight!

Then his gaze trails down again, then he sees the smearing of ashes and blood upon the steps that lead to the ground just inches away from him.

[thefirsteldenlord]

thoughts on mohg + thoughts on serosh :)

Mohg is his very dramatic baby boy but he would literally die for him all the same. He is determined to mend their relationship, no matter how long it takes and what needs to be done. He is also his baby boy that looks fucking metal and would love to go drinking with one day until their nearly black out drunk and singing stupid folk tales.

Serosh is the bestest boi. His rock and his closest companion. Sure, he's a shill for the Golden Order, but that's only because he was made out of tissue and bone from Maliketh. Serosh still remains loyal to Godfrey either way, and he keeps him calm like a good boy.

[thefirsteldenlord]

“I used to care what you thought.” :,)

There was a flash of pain that entered his heart upon hearing that. He wasn't surprised to hear that from Mohg, but it still hurt nonetheless.

"Thee do not hath to care what I think. Thou art an adult. Thou art allowed to follow thy own judgement." It's an honest answer. As much as Godfrey disagreed with his life choices, it's no longer his place to try a dictate where his son's life should go. Sure, he can give words of advice or warning, but it's ultimately up to Mohg on whether he wants to listen to his father or not.

"Regardless, I shall still tell thee what I think." Was he getting sassy out here?

[thefirsteldenlord]

His heart feels like a dam about to burst. Tears are starting to trickle down his face. It was like watching a baby cry helplessly. You want nothing more than to comfort the poor little thing.

He made a decision. Fuck it, he's gonna go comfort the baby.

Godfrey carefully approached Mohg. Not too fast, but not too slow. He kneeled over to Mohg where he was laying on the ground and rested one hand on his shoulder, and the other on his back. As much as he wants to hug or even cradle Mohg, he needed to still be mindful that Mohg could easily body slam the hell out of him if he so much as rolled over.

"Mohg... I did try to git the 2 of ye. They caut me befor I could reach ye. They dragged me out the city kickin n screamin." He lightly squeezes on mohgs shoulder. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

thefirsteldenlord​:

“M-mohg…” His own voice began to choke. “I would never intentionally leave thee. I love ye and Morgott with my whole heart. I love all 3 of ye wit my whole hert.” His badlands accent was starting to come out. He himself was falling apart at the seems. He wanted nothing more than to scoop Mohg into his arms. “Please Mohg… if it’s love ye want, then lemme give it to ya.” He pleas as his voice falls. Serosh is failing at suppressing his urge to cry. That, or Serosh wants him to cry.

It’s too much to hear — no, no, he doesn’t want this. He wants to be angry. He wants to be strong. He wants to have an enemy. He doesn’t want things to change…

Even if they change for the better.

“Lies… lies…” He’s talking more to himself than to his father. “Thou could have… taken us with thee… stayed in the Shunning Grounds with us… there… were other options, there… must have been… thou couldn’t have…”

If he actually cared… then what was this all for…?

He didn’t realise tears were falling, pooling on the ground as they drip down the bridge of his nose, head held low. “Don’t… don’t offer thy pity…” He so badly wants to stay mad. He’s grasping at anything he can to find upset within. “It’s too late… it’s far too late…”

[thefirsteldenlord]

He turns around calmly to face his son. He is a bit surprised by the sight of his son, but he didn't recoil. While the urge to immediately go for it was huge, he noticed his son's discomfort that was written on his face.

"What is thou doing?" He furrowed his brows, his arms seem to suggest that he wants to take the hug but is hesitant. Serosh seemed more interested by the sight than everyone else, leaning forward to observe mohg and Godfrey in this exchange.

Dare:

Give your daddy a hug >:3

from truth or dare [accepting!!]

Sigh. Sigh. Siiiiigh. “Fine.”

His steps are melodramatically heavy, trudging like a soldier through muck, as he approaches his father with fists clenched. One might think he’s on his way to attack given the expression on his face. But instead…

Arms open wide with a fourth and final sigh. “Father?” he asks, assuming his body language speaks for itself.

[ @thefirsteldenlord ]

[thefirsteldenlord]

He watches Mohg crescendo into the manic mess he's in. God, he should really stop Mohg from talking himself into a frenzy like this.

"Enough!" He booms out. He allows a moment of silence to fall before he speaks up once more. "Do not judge what thee do not knoweth about! For thou hath no knowledge of the lengths I tooketh to prevent thee from going to those foul sewers." His voice was chiding, but a trained ear could hear a pained whine deep inside. "2 years... 2 years thee did not go into the sewers, for I hid the both of ye in different parts of castle of Leyendell just so thee could escape thy mother's wrath! Do thee not remember how I would stay with thee in the middle of the night, holding thee and thy brother in my arms as thee wailed in agony from hunger pains? Do thee remember when how I would rock ye to sleep for hours on end?" He grabbed onto Serosh's arm, needing him to suppress the urge to cry.

"Tell me now, how did thee suddenly get new, fresh and clean pieces of cloth every few months? How did thee get that long curved sword with a gold plated hilt when thee were a child?" He was finally calling Mohg out on his bullshit. He was done getting steamrolled at this point.

thefirsteldenlord​:

It’s not exactly what he wanted, but fuck it he’ll take it.

He takes 3 steps backwards, and lowers the head of his axe to the ground. But he decides to go a little bit further and let go on his axe. He lets it stand on its head, ready for him to pick back up quickly, but he lets go of it nonetheless. He crosses his arms and stands warely in front of the omen before him.

He then suddenly realizes he has no idea what he was asked to apologize for. Was it threatening to separate him and Morgott, or just everything in general? He wasn’t about to ask Mohg that question either, certain that will only make him more irate. So he decided to apologize for the first thing.

“I apologize for the threat of separating thee and Morgott.” He starts. “I doth not trust this formless mother of thee. Please understand, I only want to protect Morgott from it, not thee.” He was sure Morgott could defend himself from Mohg just fine. Morgott being able to protect himself from a predatory outer God was another thing. “Do not take this as I not caring about thy soul. If I had it all mine own way, thee would not be following this god any longer.” He is convinced Mohg will take this the wrong way but he is unsure of how else to say what he needs to say. It was beyond frustrating, but he knows it will be a long while until their conversations become more productive.

Again, the Omen’s eye narrows in irritation, a growl rumbling low in the back of his throat. It’s not that he doesn’t believe the man’s words, nor that he has necessarily said anything wrong. It’s just…

He doesn’t want to believe him.

Oh, what a friend and ally his trauma has become — his hatred, his abandonment, welcomed and honoured guests. Who would he be, after all, had his parents not left him? What would have become of the one called Mohgwyn were he raised in a father’s loving arms?

He doesn’t want to think about it. It doesn’t matter, anyway; for it never, ever was…

Right…?

“Thy nerve, truly, to abandon and neglect, torture and traumatise; to leaving thy own sons to rot in a river of shit, only to show up aeons later and judge the decisions one was forced to make in the wake of thy absence! Hah, ‘tis laughable, the gall which the one called Godfrey proclaims! And thou claimest to worry for Morgott’s safety, do thee? Another fine joke — truly, the jester of the century, before my very eyes! The man who left the babe called Morgott to fester in filth and die in shackles, now claiming to worry for his safety from a Mother who actually loves! The heavens themselves are laughing at these jests! Where is thy painted face, if thou’rt to play such a clown, eh?!”

His voice crescendos the longer he speaks, manic and frantic, shaking at its cadence. It’s clear there’s more than simple anger behind his words now.

It’s fear. It’s disgust. It’s agony.

And he laughs — laughs at the punch line of this moment.