Burning Chains

Chapter 3

Mohg’s back hurt today. Enough that it distracted him during his prayers. His back always hurt a little bit. Being bent under the weight of his mother’s golden seal for most of the day strained it near to breaking on a good day, though when his menses hit the pain became utterly unbearable. That wasn’t what this was though. The ache was too high up, right around his shoulder blades. He tried to crack his back without moving suddenly enough to make his guards think he was about to try anything. His vertabrae clicked back into place with a loud satisfying pop, but the pain didn’t go away. It looked like something was wrong with Morgott as well. His whispered prayers were more pained than usually and every once in a while he winced. Garreth remained silent as per their deal. Though very occasionally Mohg saw his mouth twitch in a half formed expression.

Are you me? “No.” But we’re both me and that fire. “Yes.” But then how does that make any sense? “Gareth not have word.” Can you try and show it to me then? The thing in his head showed him a hand on the nose of a great dragon, a woman carrying a greatsword with a strange double helix blade, Marika with her hammer and sword, a young girl with red hair playing with a young half-wolf, her ageless eyes narrowing as she noticed them looking. “Like self” No, not like self! “Not girl,” it agreed. “Like self, but Garreth not girl. Those ones both.” But Queen Marika is a god. I don’t think I’m even remotely the same thing as she is. “Soon.” It touched his face. That made him shiver. What do you mean soon? “God soon.” Me? “Yes, self. Blood star chosen help.” Mohg? “I ask. He help self.” I didn’t ask him to do that. “You not ask. I ask alone. Not self if not together.” It attempted to clarify, making Gareth more confused. Wait, does Mohg know what’s going on with me? “Yes. He careful. Clever.” Garreth could still hear him praying quietly though on occasion he could hear a small grunt of pain. He could wait until he was done, but the second they were back in their cell he wasn’t going to let up until he had a straight answer.

As Mohg was led back to his cell he felt something pop in his back and he let out a yelp of pain. His guard ignored it, shoving him forward.

“Sir,” he hated having to use honorifics for these men, but he knew there was no chance they’d listen otherwise, “I’m in a great deal of pain right now. I think something is wrong. Could you please summon a perfumer?” His eyes narrowed. Mohg never to be seen by a perfumer except in the most dire of circumstances.

“You’ll have to wait for some time. The omen infantry corps is getting their horns filed today.” Mohg could tell he was trying to dissuade him. He simply didn’t want to bother getting help for an accursed thing like Mohg.

“I will wait.” He kept himself as still as possible despite the building pain. He just wanted to be back inside his cell so that he could curl up and cry without anyone judging him.

Garreth had planned on waiting for the guards to chain him back up and leave before asking Mohg any questions, but the minute the guards left, his cellmate let out a cry of pain so intense it made his blood run cold.

“Mohg are you alright?!” The prince only cried out again in response. “Mohg!”

“Arsonist! What’s happening in there!” Morgott’s voice was tight with pain as well but he could hear the concern underneath.

“I don’t know! I can’t see him!” Garreth heard the screech of nails against stone. Mohg must have been clawing the ground in his desperation for relief. “Someone! Please get help!” He shouted for the guards, knowing they wouldn’t come. There was a sound like something tearing and Garreth could hear Mohg begin to sob quietly, even through his iron mask he could smell blood. “Help!” He screamed louder hoping to at least annoy someone enough to come. There was a shout of pain from Morgott’s cell now as well. Whatever was happening was happening to them both. Eventually his throat was raw from screaming and still no one had come to help Mohg and Morgott. Tears of frustration streaked Garreth’s face. If only he could move. If only he could do something, anything to help! He felt warmth blossom in his left hand. “Seal” the voice in his head supplied. “Cast.” Garreth gripped the ethereal seal in his hand and began to form the words of an incantation, his mouth moving with words he did not remember ever speaking or hearing. Then Mohg and Morgott’s cries quieted a bit. They were still clearly in a great deal of pain but whatever he’d done had helped alleviate it at least.

Mohg felt the prickling of something on his skin. He forced his eyes open and saw that he was covered in glittering gold magic. The torn skin and muscles of his back were beginning to knit itself back together. The pain was still there, the feeling of bones growing far faster than they should be able to, but he no longer felt as if he were going to die. His cellmate’s left manacle glowed red hot in the darkness. “Gareth,” he choked out, “did you do this?”

“I think so, yeah. Are you okay?”

“No, but thank you. It’s bearable now.”

“What’s happening to you?” Mohg turned to look at the mess of his back.

“Something is growing out of my back.” It looked almost like two extra arms but without hands. He could feel the bones in them still painfully getting longer. Suddenly he remembered his brother. “Morgott are you alright in there?!”

“Likewise it is bearable now.” His throat sounded raw from screaming. “I have grown a tail,” He sobbed. “I truly am a beast.”

“Don’t Godfrey’s knights have tails?” Gareth piped up. “I mean, not all the time, but when they fight they use incantations to grow wings and tails and breathe fire.”

“Our father’s knights?” Morgott asked.

“Yeah.”

“Morgott…” Mohg began gently.

“No, I will not hear your cynicism regarding this. This could be a sign! Perhaps we will finally be made worthy of grace!”

“Maybe,” Mohg replied. He did not have the heart to dash his brother’s hopes.

The strange arm-like growths on his back began to itch. And small black hairs began to force their way through his skin. On second glance though, he realized they didn’t look like hairs at all, more like spines with bits of hair growing off of them. When Gareth had said wings Mohg had only been able to picture the wings of flies and other insects. That was all he had ever seen after all, but he knew from his tutors that animals called birds had wings as well. Wings that looked different from an insect, covered in soft spine like structures called feathers. He watched in shock as more black feathers sprouted along his new wings.

If this truly was a sign from their parents it must have been a cruel joke. Mohg, trapped his entire life underground wishing for nothing but escape, had been given wings that he would never use if they had their way. He would not let them. As the pain slowly subsided and he let himself fall asleep he swore that one day he would fly.

Around late afternoon the perfumers finally came. By their slack jawed expressions and hushed conversations he could tell this was not something any of them had ever seen before. He overheard one of them whisper “the young prince.” So, they worried for his sainted brother Godwyn. Ha! That would be a sight. Marika’s golden son sprouting wings or a tail just like his monstrous brothers. Yet another thing to remind his mother and father of their sin.

It was tradition among the nobility for parents to name their children using the first letter of the father’s name, though Mohg and Morgott had been named for Marika instead. Morgott had taken heart in this believing it meant still somewhere she cared for her accursed sons. Mohg didn’t know why she had done it, but he did know if she truly did love them they wouldn’t be locked up here deep below the earth. Still he had decided to take her name again when he had renamed himself. Not to claim her, but to burden her. Let Marika know that Mohg would always be her son. That she was the one who had forged the dagger in her back. That she was the one who had birthed the monster that would be her undoing. This he swore.

The perfumers inspected him and Morgott with careful hands, eventually declaring them both healthy, but in need of food and rest, before leaving to report to the warden. Morgott became excited at this thinking this meant word might be sent to their parents. Mohg instead braced himself for the inevitable.

They were both brought outside their cells before the warden. Mohg saw the shock enter his expression. Morgott stood as proud as he could, he was the son of Godfrey and Marika and he believed his parents had finally claimed him. The warden’s lips curled as he delivered his verdict. “Thou bringst dishonor upon thy father, boy. ‘Tis disgraceful to see his mark upon one accursed as thou art. Get thee back to thine cell.” Mohg watched as Morgott shattered.

He saw red. Mohg would allow NO ONE to speak to his brother like that. “Rather dishonored than a man who enacts cruelty upon his prisoners because has become so old and weak his wife can no longer bear to lay with him! Rather dishonored than a pig, happy to eat whatever shit his god decides to toss his way!” His expression did not change. It was only the briefest twitch in the corner of his mouth that told Mohg he’d managed to make the man angry.

“Hold thy tongue girl,” he let the threat hang in the air unspoken.

“Thou must tell thy lady wife I miss her. I long for her company within my bed once again.”

“Fetch the helm again,” the warden turned to one of the guards. “Thou shalt learn to speak like a proper lady.” His wings shot open in anger behind him and the warden stepped back in shock.

“Apologies, sir, have I frightened thee?” Mohg grinned in triumph before he was tackled to the ground and once again blinded by the iron helm.

Garreth hooted and hollered as Mohg was dragged back into their cell. He would’ve clapped if his hands weren’t bound. “That was damn good for someone who talks so highborn.”

“I’m still a criminal at heart.” Mohg’s voice sounded muffled and strangely echoey.

“They put you in one of these things too, huh.”

“Unfortunately.” Through the wall Gareth heard Morgott sniffle.

“Hey, are you alright in there?”

“I appreciate what you did for me, but leave me be. I don’t wish to speak to anyone right now.”

“Morgott, do not let the words of that bastard weigh upon you like this. If our father is dishonored it is by his own hand. Any honorable father would never abandon his children to men like that.” Mohg wished he could touch him to offer him some comfort, but he could not. He could only press his hand against the cold walls and hope that Morgott knew he wished to comfort him.

“Any father would be lucky to have a son as loyal as you are,” Gareth added. “I can’t think of anything you did around me that would have shamed your family.” Morgott was dead silent.

“Tell him.” Mohg hung his head. “He would have discovered it eventually anyway.” Mohg would have to face the possibility of losing his affection some day. It might as well be now when it would not hurt as much as later.

“My brother and I are omen born. Our very existence is a disgrace upon our house. We are here because we should not have been born. The same as all the others down here. We should count ourselves lucky. Our horns were not cut as those who are born to the peasantry, nor were we required to serve as soldiers of the order as penance. The only thing we must do in return is remain silent and hidden so as not to bring shame to our houses.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gareth thrashed around angrily. “Your mother trapped her own sons down here just for that?”

“Of course she would. We are a blight upon her order, she cannot merely pick and choose which omens are acceptable to the order and which are not.”

“Of course she can! She’s a god isn’t she! If the order she created would not accept her children, why not change it?! Why would she send you two down here for something you couldn’t control when she could’ve changed her own laws!”

“That way of thinking is a privilege given only to those like you and her, not that I at all disagree.” Gareth suddenly remembered what he had wanted to ask Mohg.

“You know what I am don’t you? Why didn’t you tell me when I first got here?”

“You really don’t know?” Mohg asked slowly. It sounded as if he were afraid he was giving something away.

“And you do?” Morgott grumbled, still sniffling from his own cell. “A simple prophet could not have cast without a seal.”

“I have it on fairly good authority, yes. Just because you don’t keep yourself apprised of the events beyond your cell doesn’t mean I don’t try to.”

“‘Tis not our place to wonder,” Morgott said, though Mohg knew he would still be straining his ears to hear what news his brother had acquired.

“Wait, so what the fuck am I doing here?”

“Are you familiar with the term, ‘empyrean’?”

“No! You cannot possibly believe that’s the case!” Morgott yelled.

“Quiet! The guards will hear you!” Mohg hissed back. “They don’t seem to want either of us to realize and I wish to hold this advantage as long as possible.”

“What advantage?!” Gareth was getting a little agitated now. He didn’t like not understanding what the twin princes were saying about him.

“So I take it you don’t know what an empyrean is.”

“No?! Should I?!”

“See, he doesn’t even know what that is!” Morgott whispered angrily.

“That doesn’t disqualify him, any can be chosen, not just the learned.”

“Disqualified from what?!”

“Gareth.”

“Yeah?!”

“Calm down.”

“How am I supposed to calm down?! Nobody has given me a straight answer since I was arrested!”

“I’m not asking you for my own sake, you ought to be more relaxed before you hear this.” Gareth took a moment, trying to slow his breathing.

“I’m about as calm as I can get right now.”

“Alright then,” Mohg continued. “I recieved news a few days ago, that our mother had managed to capture an empyrean alive. Consider this brother, would an ordinary arsonist be brought here to be contained with us, and bound as tightly as Gareth has.”

“Perhaps it is so that he cannot touch you.”

“Then they could have manacled him to the wall, there would be no need to suspend him like they have.”

“I still think it is unlikely.” Morgott huffed.

“But you don’t believe it is impossible.”

“No.” He begrudgingly admitted.

“Well it’s good to know you both agree that I might be an empyrean. Now can you please tell me what that is?”

“The vessel of a god. That is what my brother believes thee to be.”

“You didn’t seem like someone with a sense of humor, Morgott.” Garreth tried playing it off, even as the voice in his head did its best to signal its confirmation.

“I think my brother would combust if he ever attempted to come up with a joke. He speaks the truth, as do I. You are destined to become a host to a god.” Gareth didn’t want to become a host to anything. He felt like enough of a prisoner in his own body, he didn’t want to think of how awful it would be with something else piloting him around. The voice in his head showed him a sequence of images, coal and iron within a furnace, wind passing through a flute, a man he did not fully recognize yellow flame in the place of his head, standing tall with a hazily imagined figure on his arm with dark hair and golden eyes.

“Shut up!” He scrunched his eyes shut trying to dispel the images but he found he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, I did not know this would upset you so much.”

“Not you. The thing in my head. It’s trying to convince me that letting it take over my body is a good thing.” He suddenly felt his mouth move beyond his control. “Not take over! Never take over! Love being Gareth! We both! We same! Not vessel!” “Don’t ever do that again!” Gareth shouted though his throat was still raw. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!” It screamed in his head, upset to the point of frenzy that it had hurt him.

“Vessel is not really the most useful term for this I suppose,” Mohg said quietly. “From my understanding the god you are attached to will not subsume you, but unify with you rendering you a single entity. Outer gods do not have personalities in the ways humans do, you would still be yourself, mostly.”

“Mostly?!” “Same! We same!” The flame frantically tried to assure him.

“‘Tis better it never happens anyway.” Morgott tried to assure him through the wall. “To do so would be seen as a challenge to Queen Marika. You would be capable of taking her place, I doubt she could abide by such blasphemy.” Gareth stilled. The implications were beginning to sink in. He could become a god, one that could even overthrow Marika if he played his cards right. Screw living up to his parents’ expectations of him, he could turn the whole damn system on its head and rebuild it in his own image. Maybe he could even… No, that wasn’t worth entertaining if he didn’t know it was possible and he still didn’t have a good idea of what he would be giving up.

Then again… he didn’t know how, but it was almost like he could feel where Mohg was in the cell with him. He was a massive shape in the darkness, with a cold hole where his head should be. Despite his imposing size and massive wings, he was curled in on himself, crushed by the weight of the seal that bound him here. He wasn’t the only one either. Gareth now knew other omens lived down here, confined on Marika’s orders, and he had seen omen soldiers on the surface. He had never considered anything could be done to help them, that he could do something to help them, but now, to not even try would be selfish and wrong.

How do I do it? How do I become a god? “Find me.” The voice whispered. “Deep below you.” Show me. The voice showed him the inside of his cell and rushed forward through the bars and the sewers and into the cathedral of the forsaken. It stopped just behind the altar and then the wall behind it slowly began to open. “Here. Come find me.” How am I supposed to get away from the guards? It showed him that hazy image again, a figure with dark hair and golden eyes, now massive with twisting horns and broad wings. “Mohg help. Self like Mohg.” Gareth had only known Mohg for a few days, but the voice was right, he did like him. He could feel a crush forming even though he had never even seen him. Though he was obviously high born, the type that would never have given Gareth the time of day on the surface, Mohg spoke to him like he was an equal. Of course it may have only been because Gareth was an empyrean or whatever, but he didn’t think that was entirely the case. It was also just easy being around him. He didn’t have to explain himself like he’d had to with even Patches. There was no questioning as to why he wished to be seen as a man or why he was interested in men if he wanted to be seen as one. There was just silent understanding. If it wasn’t just the moral thing to do he would have wanted to help him. Even if it was the completely wrong thing to do he would have still wanted to help him. He wished he could tell him, but he knew it would be hard for Mohg to hear him if he whispered.

“I help.” You can? “Let you be voice. Mohg primed. Mohg hear you.” Primed? Gareth felt hands cover his eyes. “Primed.” Because he’s blinded? “Yes. See more in darkness. Here, I show you.” Gareth felt as if he were being pushed into deep water.

Mohg was disappointed in himself. He should not have hung his hopes on a strange boy he had never met, but there was something about Gareth that made Mohg want to trust him. He was oddly charming in his roughness, the defiance he showed the guards not waning despite his treatment and the confusing situation he had been thrust into. Yet he had also shown capacity for gentleness in his attempts to ease Morgott’s pain and his own. Mohg knew he could not overthrow his mother himself. He could not serve as a host to the Elden Ring, there would have always had to be another involved, someone for whom Mohg would serve as consort and Elden Lord. Mohg wouldn’t have minded if it was Gareth. In fact he felt his heart flutter a bit thinking about the possibility. Perhaps this was what was called a crush? It was a shame then that Garreth did not seem to want that for himself. Mohg couldn’t force him too but it kind of hurt to think of standing beside someone else. He would probably get over it in time. Maybe this hurt so much because he hadn’t met many other people who were kind to him, or anyone else close to his age besides his brother. Once he knew more like minded people he was sure the wound would close.

“Mohg,” the omen prince jumped in surprise. “Can we talk?”

“Gareth?” It sounded like he was whispering in Mohg’s ear, but that wasn’t possible, he was chained across the room and Mohg was in this stupid mask.

“Not out loud.” His voice sounded slightly different as well, a little bit deeper than it was when he spoke. “I’m in your head.”

Ah, the blindness and quiet is driving me insane again. It happened much faster this time.

“Shit yeah sorry, you’d probably think you were going crazy wouldn’t you. I’m going to cough three times and then scratch my leg okay?” Mohg heard Garreth cough three times, then his chains clanked as he scratched his leg with his other foot. “You believe me now?”

How on earth are you doing that?

“I help.” The yellow flame spoke in Mohg’s head with Gareth’s voice. “It’s letting me talk to you the same way it talks to me, so that we won’t be overheard.” Mohg could see a light in the darkness of his mask, it grew larger and larger until suddenly it enveloped him. Then, he was somewhere he didn’t recognize.

Mohg sat on a hill covered in long, thin, yellow leaves that grew from the ground. Grass. He dug his hands into it desperately trying to commit the feeling to memory. In the sky he could see a golden tree, its branches stretching so far over his head that they blotted out the sky. He could see a walled city off in the distance, surrounding the massive tree like a network of roots. Here however, he sat before a small village, windmills dotting the nearby hillsides.

“I knew you sounded handsome.” Garreth sat beside him. He wore a loose shirt, open to the chest and brown pants and boots. He looked different than he did inside their cell. His chest was flat and his shoulders slightly broader. Garreth’s hair was longer than Mohg had expected, dark brown, almost black and half tied up into a ponytail, with the rest free to hang to his shoulders and his eyes were such a light shade of brown they were almost amber. As he had described, Gareth had slightly pockmarked cheeks and a mole to the left of the bridge of his nose. Mohg looked down at himself, but he looked exactly the same as always aside from his clothes.

Mohg looked incredibly handsome in the afternoon light of Altus Plateau. The gold veins that shot through his curling black horns shined in the Erdtree’s light. He had a regal face, with a sharp nose and piercing golden eyes. His dark wings stretched out behind him like a death bird’s, an omen of death for his mother’s empire. Instead of his prisoner’s garb, he wore the black robes of the royal family, richly embroidered with red and gold. Garreth threaded his fingers through Mohg’s as he sat down and the omen turned his face to hide his spreading blush.

“What is this place?” Mohg asked.

“My old village, it’s about five miles from here to the capital walls. The church is down that way,” he pointed down the road, “and on nice days you can even see Mount Gelmir from here.” He pointed towards a rising column of smoke in the distance.

“No, I mean how are we here?”

“Primed.” A small ball of yellow flame ran across Gareth’s fingers like a small mouse or an insect. “I think it means that since you can’t see or hear anything very well right now, it’s easier for you to have visions. Or uh, for me to make you have visions.” He held Mohg’s hand a little tighter.

“You’re still frightened then.”

“A little bit, yeah.” He pulled his legs up to his chest. “For my whole life, I’ve never really been in control of what happens to me. I’m just afraid of losing what little control I have left.” He paused for a long moment. “I guess I’m also just a little scared at how easy this was. Pulling you in here with me just felt natural somehow, even though I’ve never done it.” “Power over mind. Should be easy.” “That doesn’t really make it feel any better.”

“You said you wanted to talk?” It was oddly disconcerting to hear them conversing with each other when they both had the same voice.

“I do.” Gareth shifted himself until he was kneeling in front of Mohg. “If Morgott is right and I can take Marika’s place, I’ll do it. I can’t just sit by and watch people suffering like you’re suffering when I know I can do something about it.”

“Are you aware of what that will entail?”

“Not even a little.”

“You’ll need to take a consort to serve as your Elden Lord. Someone who can help lead your armies and rule your kingdom.”

“Do you have someone in mind?” Gareth kissed the back of Mohg’s hand.

“Do you act like this around all the boys?” Mohg teased back.

“No, just you.” Gareth smiled into Mohg’s skin. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel comfortable when I’m with you. Even though I can still feel my hands falling asleep from the chains out there, I feel better in that cell with you than I ever did in this town.” The windmills turning in the distance slowly began to catch fire as he spoke. Yellow flames taking their canvas arms. “I like you Mohg, I really like you.” Sparks took to the skies as more buildings began to catch and Gareth’s amber eyes almost seemed to glow in the light of the growing blaze.

“I think I like you too.” Mohg put his hand on Gareth’s cheek. The boy lowered his face hesitantly. Mohg closed his eyes, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it, and then he felt Gareth’s lips meet his own. It was a clumsy kiss, neither of them were particularly good at it, but neither of them particularly cared. To hold someone who loved them in their arms was enough for now.

As the last embers of Gareth’s village burned out, the two of them separated, giddy and breathless.

“So what now?” Mohg asked. “How do we break out of here?”

“I think I know a way to get out of the sewers, but the flame seemed to think you’d know how to get out of our cell.” The small yellow ball of fire traveled to Garreth’s shoulder. “Look.” The sky suddenly turned completely dark, with the exception of a single blood-red star. “She help.” Mohg stared up at her. She seemed closer than ever. He began to reach upwards- “Tired.” The flame perched on Gareth’s shoulder began to dim. “You find her. I sleep.” “Wait no! Not yet!” Gareth protested. “Next time real.” The flame assured before it winked out, forcing them back into their private darknesses.

“Damn it.” Mohg heard Gareth curse. It felt strange to hear his voice sounding so high now. “Mohg, did you understand all that?”

“I think so.” In the dark of his helmet he could still faintly see the red star in the distance. Like she had always been there just out of sight. He reached for her again. This time he wouldn’t stop until he had grasped her. “I need to focus. Can you please stay as quiet as you can?” Gareth nodded, sending his chains rattling.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah I can be quiet.”

“Thank you.”