Chapter Text
Morgott sees a dream. It has been a while since he dreamt. Rarer than he knows that he's dreaming. He is both unaware yet faintly aware of his surroundings. A pitch white ground and ceiling. It doesn't seem to be an enemy's spell he thought to himself. Just when he was feeling slightly a bit more relaxed his consciousness is pulled somewhere.
A dark, decrepit, and dung-filled place. The only accompaniment he has are just raving screams of those that have gone insane and are dripping water ever so slightly, which slowly makes him go insane.
Then he realized, he can't move his arms. There were chains on his wrists, making him stuck on the wall. His ragged golden-colored robes were gone from his form, leaving him fully unclothed. Save for a cloth barely covering his private parts. But down here, there really is no point in covering yourself.
Those faint of heart would've screamed and raged, begging to be released at once. They would flail their chains and try to break free from its bind but to no avail of course. Soon their wailing will quiet down, cease and they'll cry at their hopeless situation.
However, the omen Morgott only sighed and thought to himself. So, tis' a Monday.
Spending almost his entire life within the sewers of Leyndell, he's accustomed to the cruelty done to him. Though his father is the great Elden Lord Godfrey and his mother is the Goddess Marika, he is neither a god nor human. An omen, one of the vilest and disgusting creatures in the eyes of the people in the lands between. As royalty, he's given the grace of keeping his horns. However, only a fate of lifetime imprisonment awaited him. Rather than lifetime imprisonment since birth, is it not mercy to just kill them in their sleep?
Morgott stares at the ceiling and looked around. It was just as he remembered. Everything felt the same yet oh so different. Tis' naught but a dream. I shall wait till my body ends its slumber.
The self-proclaimed king of Leyndell hated dreams in his sleep. They could either be a nightmare that sickens him to the very core, or a good dream that shows him false hope. Staring at the dung-filled floor, he recounted the words of the golden order scripture to keep his mind at bay. Not heeding his surroundings or if his chanting would disturb anyone at the jail beside him, he chanted, prayed, and begged to the Erdtree and the shattered pieces of the Elden Ring that his torment would be over and he'll wake up.
A scream of someone being tortured at the jail beside did not hamper his words. His faith and focus stayed unrelenting as the screams became louder and louder. If his prayers were answered here and now, he could've manifested a handful of golden spears, but alas his dream won't let him.
Only then does he realize, whose screaming it was he's been hearing. O grace, thou art cruel indeed... Is this a test of mine faith thou hast given me..? His chanting stopped, at the same time the screams beside too. His resolve did not waver. Though he is but an omen, though he is graceless, he knows he is blessed. This is simply a test given by the greater will. A cruel one, but a test nonetheless.
"Brother, can thoust' hear my words?" Morgott said with a resigned voice.
Heavy panting was the only reply given. Though Morgott could not see what was done to his brother, he could surmise that it was painful. Those bloodsoaked-bandaged officials know where to strike where it hurts.
A twisting sound of a lock turns, which is followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. Morgott had never seen the officials that tortured him, and since this is a dream he could not care to register the faces that hurt his brother.
Morgott closes his eyes. "Cans't thou hear me, brother?"
The panting slowed down and went to a halt. "Tis' a Tuesday tomorrow. I bid you good luck, brother."
A small smile formed on his lip. he remembered how the only ally he had in the sewers was his twin brother. It saddens him to remember what his brother had become now, but he's thankful in his dream he is just as he remembered and loved.
Thank you, o grace, for thy sense of leniency. He felt blessed for that very moment. His brother's words of assurance were something he missed.
Suddenly the door to his jail cell opened. Followed by footsteps. It sounded different though. Through his time in the sewers, Morgott can know who is it by hearing the footsteps reverberating on the damp floor. But his one is light. Too light to be the malnourished crawlers in the sewers, yet not too heavy that it is another omen. Morgott slowly opens his eyes, and what greets him is a visage that he never wants to see, yet he yearns for all his life.
Mother... With his chains still in place, his eyes widened in shock. There is no way Queen Marika should step into these filthy dung-filled floors. The beautiful flowing dark dress that Marika wore was dirtied by the pudgy floor. Her barefooted form was sullied by dung. Yet it did not bother her at all.
For once, Morgott shakes his wrists, trying to break the chains. O grace I beg of thee, do not sully her form, not her! I beg thee! To no avail the chains would not break. His mind races, if he breaks the chains right now he would swoop her in his arms and carry her to the spring water in Altus Plains. He would wash her feet and beg for forgiveness, for giving her any reason to visit her in the sewers. He would offer her his life, his soul, and body to repay her kindness of visiting him in his cell. His mind contradicts himself, though he doesn't want his mother, seeing her form down here filled his heart with joy.
The dreamlike Marika gasps, covering her mouth with her soft frail hands. She rushed over to Morgott, who tries to sink into the wall as her mother runs to his side. tears swell in her eyes, she took out a small but regally embroidered handkerchief and wipes his son's face. The white cloth was sullied by the dirt and grime of the omen. "My son... If only I'd known..." Her hands slowly reach out to touch his cheek, as a sign of comfort.
But as the hand closes in on him, Morgott shakes his head like a raged wolf. He avoids his mother's hand as if it is a searing iron used to mark his flesh. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted this to be over. He begged to the greater will so this dream would end.
A towering form appears behind the false visage of Queen Marika. A regal lord in shining armor. Though thick and heavy, one can exude the strength emanating from him. Father..? His eyes widened in disbelief.
The Elden Lord has a head upon his hand. The head is wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, probably one of the officials that are assigned to regularly torture the sewer inhabitants.
"I have found one of the vermins." Godfrey threw the head upon the dirty floor, uncaring at whoever it was behind the cloth. He kneeled down alongside his wife to inspect their son. "Forgive me." Godfrey said with disappointment at his tone, all of to directed to himself. "Had I known sooner, I would have come to thy aid, my son.
Morgott feels sick to his stomach, those words are what he longed, yet those words are what he never wanted to hear. His father comes to his rescue, his mother comforting him after what he went through. Looking at himself, chained, he realized that he is not in his adult years. He is still a child, barely a teen.
The attention, the care his parents are giving him are bile and poison, yet it tasted like honey and nectar. He remembered the time he fantasized about his father coming in and bending the iron bars with his brute strength. His mother healing his wounds with incantations only known by her and embraced her in her bosom. While in chains he thought all of that.
But... He knew. For I am a graceless omen... Such modesty, such kindness is undeserving for such as I.
The dream ends as abruptly as it started. Morgott opens his eyes and remembers where he was. The door to the Erdtree. Sealed by impenetrable thorns, none may enter, yet none may leave. His mother, was so close, yet so far away.
He fell asleep on the floor. He looked up at the night sky filled with stars. Though the stars were sealed away in the age brought by his mother, the people in the lands between can still enjoy their view at night. In the previous night, he remembered seeing the stars move for a long time. He knew what it meant. Radahn was defeated by that tarnished. It is the only explanation there is. Though this imperils the defense of the royal capital since his seal can easily be broken with the power of two or more great runes, he was thankful. Radahn was an honorable man. Though they fought against each other in the Shattering, death was something he deserve.
Radahn was strong. During the war, Margit challenges him on one in one combat as their troops gather around to witness the winner. Margit lost, though he was agile enough to avoid his sword, he could not beat the brute strength of Radahn. Perhaps he would have had a chance had he used his cursed blood, however he did not want to. In the end, as he conceded defeat, Radahn offered him his arm to stand up, and Margit accepts it.
Radahn called him a fine fighter. Though Radahn could kill Margit and take his great rune, he said there was no other man fine to rule Leyndell. Radahn's forces retreated, and as Leyndell was neutralized by Caelid forces, Radahn needs to prepare to face the forces of the Haligtree.
Morgott knew that facing Malenia would mean facing her scarlet rot. Radahn faced her regardless, and Morgott prayed he found the honorable death he deserved. Now with his death, the stars are as clear as ever.
Sighing a breath of relief, Morgott stood up and walked outside to the Elden throne. Though he is the king of Leyndell, not once has he sat upon the throne. As an omen, even sleeping on the floor is too much for him. He had never touched the queen's bedchamber, opting to stay near the Erdtree's seal, devising ways to try and break it open. He knew what must be done, but it is an affront to the golden order. A cardinal sin that must not be done. So he stayed there trying to find any other alternatives.
The cold chill night is long, but Morgott hopes it'll end sooner.
-----
The seal is broken.
With the great rune of Godrick, Rennala, and Radahn, the seal melted away into the thin air. The tarnished, named Chester, was glad that there were no enemies waiting behind the seal to ambush him. He holds his glintstone staff tight, finding solace with it by his side. He slowly walked and ignored maddened nobles keeping to themselves. After riding an elevator and a few steps, he sees upon himself, the golden city of the Altus plains. The capital blessed by the Erdtree.
Only now, it felt... Empty... The majesty is there, the glory is there, yet it all filled hollow. A great dragon rests upon the capital, the inhabitants are all hollowed out. The golden architecture shows the former glory it had in the past, yet it is all meaningless.
Chester then walked to the nearest door and inside is a site of grace like none other. After touching it, he rests beside it.
Melina appeared out of thin air as she always done. Yet the air around her felt different. She felt happy. "My utmost thanks. For bringing me to the base of the Erdtree." She said with a small smile. It is thin, but it's there. "Here, I can govern my own movement. And thus, the accord is fulfilled."
Chester smiled in return. "Glad to be of service."
Both of them stayed quiet. The air felt heavy, but they both know what Melina is going to say. Yet both are just stalling time as to not move to the next part.
After what seemed like some time, Melina speaks again. "I shall depart to ascertain the purpose I was given. Farewell. I shall leave Torrent, and the power to turn runes into strength, here with you." She stands up and covers her head with her cloak. As she was about to leave to enter the city proper, she turns back to say a parting word. "I wish you luck, in realising your ambition. You have fought long and hard. I have no doubt you will become Elden Lord. May you take the throne." After saying that, she enters and went away, but this time she did not disappear into blue lights as she usually did.
The tarnished couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as the climax to this journey has arrived. he grips his glinstone staff even harder.
Only then he thought to himself. Was the grace always this lonely..?
Cont'd