Dynasty of Blood and Flame

Chapter 2

This rebirth thing sure was taking a long fucking time, thought the nameless bandit. It was powerful magic Rennala worked but damn if it didn’t take ages. The bandit had submitted once before to tell Goldmask the answer to his stupid riddle. Thank the flame for the turtle priest or the bandit would’ve been shit out of luck on that one. It was still a little crazy to think that Marika and Radagon were the same entity. Somebody must’ve told the old bitch to go fuck herself and she’d taken it literally. Poor Rennala though. She really wasn’t taking the divorce well. The bandit couldn’t help thinking about it though. If the bandit could turn into a man the bandit wouldn’t choose to be as ripped as Marika had chosen Radagon to be. The Bandit would want to keep the same physique, maybe with a sharper jawline but with minimal alterations. Maybe Marika was also fucking stacked. No, that would be ridiculous, the bandit had seen the statues. Unless… The bandit had definitely been in the egg for too long, this was a strange train of thought to be going down. The nameless bandit shifted inside the egg. Maybe the bandit should try it out. See how it was being a man for a bit. The bandit did have plenty of larval tears. If the bandit ended up hating it the nameless one could always go back in later.

He emerged from the egg born anew. He wasn’t sure if it was the fire crackling beneath his skin or the new body but he felt amazing! He felt his back. The scar was still there, so were the pits in his face from when he was sick with pox as a child and hadn’t stopped scratching. He hastily thanked Rennala and practically ran to the roundtable hold. He waved politely to Roderika and Hewg before bolting into Fia’s now vacant room and locking the door. He very much did not want to be disturbed. What he wanted to find was very close to the doorway. It stood there so innocuously few noticed it in their rush to visit Fia. However the bandit noticed it, it was after all the only full length mirror he’d seen in his journeys through the lands between.

He kept his eyes shut as he approached, a little afraid of what he’d see. Taking the flame into himself had already begun to affect his perception. He could feel the way the heat coming off the hearth was absorbed and reflected across the different surfaces of the room providing him a textural map even with his eyes closed. His fingers brushed the cool glass of the mirror and he took a deep breath. The nameless bandit opened his eyes. Two pinpricks of flame met his gaze. He knew his eyes now glowed in the darkness, their light shone through the slits in his helmet while in the dark of caves. However it was another thing entirely to see the flame burning in his sockets. Gods that was fucking sick. His face was fairly similar, he’d been fairly androgynous looking before, but there were some slight changes. His eyelashes were longer, but thinner and less noticeable, his eyebrows were thicker, and his jawline was just a little bit harsher, and his face just a bit longer. The nameless bandit had never liked looking at himself. Something always seemed out of place in his appearance that he could never put his finger on. Looking at himself now he finally understood what it was. He quickly doffed his armor, tossing it on the floor without regard for where it landed or how loud he was being. He had to know what he looked like. He practically tore off his pants and shirt and the now useless band around his chest. He was a little less muscular than before although that had been part of his request to Rennala. He had bartered some of his strength in exchange for better control over the flame. However he still held the same tight finesse within his wiry body that had made him so effective with his strange spiraling rapier. Although now that Rennala had opened his mind, he would be dedicating himself to learning to wield poor Vyke’s spear. His chest felt light now, toned muscle taking the spot of soft breasts as if they were never there. He felt the skin there, no scars, no residual softness. His hips were also narrower, creating a smoother rectangular line to his body. He hesitated at the tied cloth of his small clothes. He gathered himself for a moment and then undid the knot holding them in place. Well he still had a nice ass no need to turn around and risk it haha. He internally chided himself for his cowardice. He willingly took the frenzied flame into his body. How could a cock be more frightening than that? He slowly turned back around. From his memory it was about average. Nothing really to write home about. He felt steaming tears begin to drip down his face. What was that about? This was no big deal wasn’t it? He felt perfectly comfortable like this. But that was it wasn’t it, he felt perfectly comfortable. For the first time he was looking at himself naked without turning away in disgust. He touched his new dick experimentally, just to make sure it was real, that he wasn’t dreaming. He felt more boiling hot tears stream down his face. It was relief, wasn’t it. For the first time since his first death he let himself begin to cry. His joy overwhelmed him. He’d never felt like this, even before he’d died and returned as a tarnished. The nameless bandit looked at himself in the mirror, tears streaming down his face, snot beginning to drip from his nose. He laughed at how ridiculous he looked. A grown man sobbing on the floor like that. He remembered a name. Not the one that he was given but one he once called himself privately before the urge was beaten out of him. “Gareth,” he whispered in a voice deeper than it had been before. “My name is Gareth.”

He put his clothes and armor back on and unlocked the door to Fia’s room. He’d have to visit Boc, his pants were too loose now. He carried his helmet in the crook of his arm. He had never really needed the thing to begin with, it was just useful for preventing himself from accidentally catching a glance of his reflection. Truly that ought to have signaled something to him, but he was not a very smart man. When he opened the door Roderika looked over but then froze in surprise. Hewg didn’t look up from his work as usual.

“You were awfully loud in there, did ye take issue with a suit of armor?”

“Sorry for the noise, Hewg.” The blacksmith’s hammer halted and he squinted over in the direction of the door.

“Come closer, Tarnished. My eyes aren't what they used to be.” Gareth slowly approached the anvil. It didn’t matter what he had to say about it. Gareth was happy with himself for the first time in ages. If worse came to worst he could just get his smithing done at Iji’s. Although he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Hewg scrutinized his face for a moment before smiling and reaching up to cup his cheek. “So you finally realized it, did you son?” Again a hot tear of relief ran down his face.

“Yes, I did.” Hewg shifted so that he could better see Roderika.

“See, Roderika? What did I tell ye? No empyrean goes long without altering their body to better suit them.”

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Roderika asked quietly. He had been the nameless bandit to both of them. He never gave them his old name, he’d left that behind when he’d killed his first husband and ran away to become a bandit all those years ago. He was a different man but an incomplete one and thus chose not to go by any name. He had no identity, why should he have a name?

“I’ve chosen Gareth.”

“It’s a good name.” The young woman smiled softly.

Gareth pulled back his sleeves. He’d been waiting to do this. Even if Malenia hadn’t asked him to he hated that fucking swamp. Thank the giants for the fire monks. If he hadn’t had Flame Cleanse Me on hand, he never would’ve made it through the damn thing in the first place. But now he didn’t need it. He thrust his arms into the muck up to his elbows and let the flame move through him. Then the Lake of Rot began to burn.

He felt all of it. He wasn’t sure how or why it happened but when he had killed Marika and became the new God of the lands between, he became the Frenzied Flame. The Frenzied Flame also became Garreth the bandit. They had melded totally, neither subsumed the other because he was one being. One that had regrettably been separated into two halves for most of his life. The flame that scorched the lake and burned the crawling servants of the rot god was him. The smoke that suffocated the god trapped behind its seal was him. And so was the man who laughed as he felt the god screech in pain as smoke filled its lungs and it breathed its last. The flames slowly began to die upon the surface of the lake. Its sickly scarlet waters faded into clear blue. He gathered some into his hand and poured it into the core of his flame. Steam floated gently up to the cave ceiling. The god of rot was dead, all was right with the world. The flame sparked. There was no chance of his children inheriting their aunt’s rot now.

There would always be the risk that one of their children would become an empyrean. Even those previously unconnected to any divine lineage, like himself and Marika, had the potential to become empyreans but his and Mohg’s children would be especially susceptible. How could they not be? Both of their fathers were supremely powerful in their own right. If their children inherited even a fraction of their strength they would be incredibly enticing as a host to an outer god. Gareth counted himself lucky, the Frenzied Flame had not affected his health or growth at all. It was difficult to control the heat and intensity at first. He was after all, just a man who was suddenly given the power of a god. But it hadn’t hurt him, just melted a few helmets and scorched a few sheets. However, if the god of rot had chosen one of his children. The flame simmered with rage at the thought of Malenia’s childhood. Slowly condemned to lose her limbs, her eyes, and if it had progressed as far as it did for others, eventually her sanity. No, he would not allow his children to suffer the same fate. Perhaps instead they’d be chosen by the cold dark moon, Mohg’s mother of truth, the primordial life force within the crucible, or even the black flame of death. Although Gareth would be more happy to see them born normal, without the responsibilities of a god. It was a lonely fate. He understood why Marika so greatly desired a consort. Of course now he had his own.

His flame burned brighter just thinking of his lovely husband. His horns, his glowing yellow eyes, his long, wonderful fangs. By the flame, he was so hot and he barely seemed to know it. And how perfect he was for Gareth as well. A man who could truly understand him, having gone through much the same thing he did. They had their own separate nightmares. Mohg fought against chains and perfumed poisons in his sleep as Gareth snapped his legs shut and felt blood drip down his hands, but both of them opened their arms for each other in the morning. He had never loved another like he loved Mohg. Perhaps it was that before he was never capable of loving another like he loved Mohg, but there was also just something about him that made him different from any other man he met. Something that made him want to pin him down and pump him so full of cum he couldn’t move. Then he’d keep fucking him until Mohg couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He would look so beautiful drooling onto their sheets, eyes glazed over, only able to call out his name as he wrang orgasm after orgasm from him. And then when he’d nearly blacked out from pleasure he’d tear into the meat of his neck and drink more of that delicious blood to pull him back out of it and they’d start all over again. Gareth shook his head, clearing away the fantasy. Was he always this horny? He didn’t think he was always this horny. Maybe it was the new body, or the influence of the flame? Or maybe it was just his wonderful, handsome, perfect husband. Speaking of his husband, it had been at least an hour since he’d last seen him. Gareth surrendered himself to the flow of energy that pervaded the world and found himself at the hearth at the center of his and Mohg’s palace.

That had been the most difficult undertaking of the first few months of his reign. After the Erdtree finally burned to ash the sites of grace that appeared where its roots met the surface disappeared. The dead would no longer instantly revive, nor would the system of instant travel established under Marika properly function. It took a great deal of time to decipher the runes of the Elden Ring, but at last he grasped it well enough to engrave a few of his own. He established hundreds of similar yellow flames across the lands between and linked them together through the undercurrent of magic that still pervaded the Lands Between. However, unlike the old sites, all could use the yellow flame. Mohg suggested there be a blood tithe for using it but Gareth politely discarded the idea. Perhaps he would incorporate it in some other way later. Allowing the maker of the tithe to gain more crimson tears upon resting for example. It was probably best not to push his luck for the moment.

There had been shockingly little resistance to his appointment as god from the other factions. All those in his kingdom had learned to fear even the idea of a Lord of the Frenzied Flame coming into being. Gareth, even as a lowly Tarnished, was nothing to sneeze at. He had recovered five shards of the Elden Ring even before receiving the flame. He took down dragons completely alone as a means to gain runes. He had gone farther than anyone else since Godfrey to become Elden Lord and then surpassed him as well to become King eternal. There were also none who hadn’t heard of the lord of blood at least in quiet whispers. Even during his period of maddened infatuation, Mohg was a force to be reckoned with. He was charming and charismatic, able to bend men to his will without the use of magic. The name of his knights was known even in the distant Land of Reeds. Mohg had also pioneered new and devastating incantations utilizing the blood flame. As a united front, the two of them were quite possibly the most terrifying thing in the Lands Between. The madness of destruction and blood lust combined. Fear had kept the lower ranks from rebelling as of yet but if that fear reached a fever pitch, well he could not be everywhere at once as much as he’d like too. A rebellion could endanger their children. Still, a new great tree had already begun to sprout, fed by the ashes of the dead Erdtree. Already Omens, the Undead, the Misbegotten, and all those who had been bereft of grace under Marika had rallied to them. Destruction was needed for healthy growth, Blood lust could be tamed into the desire to protect. It would take time and dedication, but the Lands Between would come to accept them eventually.

The first few months of Mohg’s courtship with the King Eternal had been some of the most hectic of his life. First of course he had to reconvene his men and discipline those who had simply abided by his strange actions while he was bewitched. He asked for unflinching loyalty, yes, however what his men had shown was blind faith that crossed over into stupidity. Juno Hoslow was sent a letter of apology. He had shown his true mettle as a knight of blood by abandoning him altogether. He deserved to be commended for that. After about a week of torment, he announced that he would be issuing pardons for their fatal lapses in judgment in honor of his marriage to the King Eternal. Varré had to be confined for another week after committing what was apparently his third attempt on Gareth’s life. His husband had laughed it off insisting it was merely Varré being Varré, but Mohg required more discipline from his soldiers than that sorry display. And then came the announcement that he was with child and Varré had been bedridden from shock. Mohg valued his skill with blood manipulation, but his theatrics could be trying at times.

These days however, he wasn’t doing much of anything. He was about twice the size of an average human, larger even than most other Omens thanks to his giant of a father, so he hadn’t begun to show until fairly late into the pregnancy. That said, even with the gallons of fresh blood His husband offered everyday he still found himself exhausted. While he could still move around easily enough, he was often simply too tired to leave the palace. Gareth had been elated, insisting that the children must be exceptionally strong to be taking this much out of him. Mohg sincerely hoped he was correct. While it was true that they could only hope to forge a powerful dynasty with strong children, there was also the matter of their parentage. Mohg was not prone to bouts of self hatred like his brother. He delighted in every aspect of himself. He was still a realist however, and any child of his, especially any child of his and the one who was made Lord of the Frenzied Flame would be subject to incredible scrutiny. He had met the young lady Rya, daughter of his half brother, when she stayed at their palace as she traveled the lands between. She was a sweet girl and carried the weight of her birth well on her shoulders. Mohg hoped his children would have the same strength to carry themselves with grace, despite how others might treat them. Although he would prefer it if they were strong enough to simply tear out the guts of any would be tormentors instead. There was always the chance one or both of them would be just an average human, but Mohg knew how to give a human claws.

A gentle kiss to his hand made him put down his book. Ah, Gareth was back. His husband was VERY affectionate. His attentiveness had felt strange at first to Mohg. Not a bad strange necessarily, but he was unused to being touched so gently so frequently. He often received disembodied kisses on the check, or felt arms gently wrap around his waist, and every time Gareth offered his wrist for Mohg to drink he’d gently stroke his back, carding his fingers through Mohg’s feathers. Despite his clear affection, his daily offerings of blood were the only times Gareth allowed himself to actually touch the demigod. The King insisted that it would be too dangerous. If his control of the flame slipped for even a moment, even if he ensured Mohg didn’t feel the pain of the burns, the shock to his body could still put the twins at risk. He still gave his gentle caresses from afar but Mohg could see that it pained him to be unable to touch him directly.

He’d explained how he did it the morning after their coupling. As he’d explained the night before, the flame had no mouth to speak with. Even before it had united with Gareth it was trapped within the readerless three fingers, with no means to spread its message. Over the centuries it became more adept at manipulating what few hosts it had, learning to speak directly into their minds and alter their perception. This was why its incantations worked best on sentient creatures. The burst of pain caused by prolonged exposure to the flame was simply psychosomatic. However, it was intense enough that the shock often caused the body to damage itself anyway. Upon melding with Gareth, the flame had become calmer and more gentle. He still had the same unwavering intensity but he found himself wanting to compel sensations other than pain. He also found that, with Gareth’s memories of voice and speech, he was now able to form words rather than attempt to move his followers with projected images and sensation. Not that he wasn’t above projecting images anymore. He sent plenty of rather explicit images to Mohg, showing him what he planned to do to him when they were finally able to touch again. Although Mohg was loath to admit it, quite a few of them were very intriguing. One in particular jumped out in his mind, in which he tore away his lover’s cock at the root with his teeth and drank his blood from the bleeding stump as he bucked into his mouth, his magic desperately trying to regenerate the lost flesh. Anyone else would’ve died subject to such treatment. His wonderful idiot of a husband presented it to him without comment aside from a vague implication of a question in the back of his mind, as if to say, is this something you’d like to try? It seemed he was as much of a whore for pain as Mohg was, although Gareth’s godly constitution and exhaustive archives of healing incantations made him capable of taking far more punishment. They both wanted more children certainly but perhaps they could hold off for a few months on the next ones. Just to give themselves a chance to truly destroy each other. Mohg had quite a few fantasies of his own he’d like to try out.

His husband knocked lightly at the door of the room that over the months had become Mohg’s study.

“May I come in?” Mohg heard it as a gentle whisper in his right ear.

“You may enter.” The temperature of the room went up a few degrees as the Eternal King entered. While he wore a helmet while traveling to prevent himself from being recognized, while they were alone he left the yellow flame uncovered. It was roaring today. The flame sparked and shot tendrils far up into the air. “You’ve done it then?”

“I have! The god of rot is no more!”

“Then your debt is repaid.”

“Yes!”

“How is Malenia then?”

“I haven’t been to see her yet.”

“You haven’t?”

“No, I wished to tell you first.” Phantom arms curled around Mohg’s broad chest. “That’s one less threat to our children after all.” Mohg felt a kiss on his forehead. “And I thought perhaps we could celebrate a little.” A hand gripped Mohg’s thigh and kisses began to trail up his arm. He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs wider.

“It doesn’t seem quite fair to you. You’re the one who burned the lake, not me.” An invisible tongue prodded at his entrance.

“Watching you is reward enough for me.” Mohg’s breath hitched as teeth nipped at his clit. “I don’t even need to touch you to know how wet you are for me.” The tongue swiped back over his clit before descending further down in him. “I’m not even touching you and still you writhe in pleasure for me.” A second tongue licked along the shell of his ear hidden in the garden of horns that sprouted from his head. “Look at you, you’re fully clothed, about to come on the phantom of my cock.” Mohg opened his mouth to protest but was surprised into silence as two disembodied dicks entered him.

“Compensating are we, my lord?” He coughed out as the brutal pace began to make him lose his breath. The shape of a third slapped his cheek.

“I can always make more if that’s not enough, darling.” Mohg opened his mouth in challenge, letting his tongue hang out invitingly. He felt his throat bulge out as it thrust roughly into him. “Had enough?” It was already overwhelming but Mohg began to reach down to the back of his robes toward his ass. “No need for that, darling.” The feeling of yet another cock filled his ass. Of course. It was easy to forget that what he was feeling was merely imparted sensation. There was no need to prepare. Nothing was there in the first place. A finger came next to the two in his entrance and began to play with his clit. It had been a valiant effort, but with that he finally came. He took a moment to catch his breath as the sensations of touch began to disappear.

“When this is over and you allow me to touch you again. I plan to utterly destroy you, my king.” Mohg smiled in the haze of his orgasm. “I’ll do things to you no other man would dare to. You will be utterly ruined for anyone else.” A kiss brushed Mohg’s neck and he felt teeth drag across his skin as the lips left him.

“That’s the idea, darling. I would have no one else but you.”

“You’ve grown.” Gareth now had to bend down so Malenia could find his shoulder.

“I think you may have shrunk actually.” Gareth laughed. Her prosthetics were loose now and seemed longer than they should on her smaller frame. The rot had left her body with the death of its god but her arm, leg, and eyes remained missing. She declined Gareth’s offer to attempt to heal them. Malenia had lived longer without them than with them and had grown stronger in their absence. Her wings of swordsmanship were still intact, she would merely need to get her arm resized. Gareth had recommended a good blacksmith. The edge of her lip quirked up in a small smile.

“Don’t play coy with me, my friend. I may be smaller now that the rot has left me, but you’ve definitely grown taller.” She was right of course. He hadn’t believed it possible at his late stage of life but he’d grown taller, much taller, in the months since he’d inherited the Elden Ring. Now he could even look Mohg in the eye. He remembered how huge Rennala and Godfrey had become simply by being in proximity to the thing for too long. The ring was inside him.

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

“It’s difficult for you, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Well, you were just an ordinary man a year ago and now you’re almost twice your size, speak only through telepathy and just returned from killing a god. Not to mention you were also a disembodied flame for centuries and now have a physical form and thinkin a language you never understood before. Would make anybody feel a little out of sorts.”

“It’s just, so much is going right for me right now. I have a kingdom, a beautiful husband who loves me” Malenia grimaced at the mention of Mohg “and two children on the way. It doesn’t seem right to feel upset right now.”

“The good and the difficult can still coexist. You must allow yourself to feel both.”

Gareth sat down beside Malenia. When they’d first met he’d only come up to her chest. Now she was about the same height as Gareth had been then, probably about as tall as her daughter (clone?) Millicent. Gareth was about as tall as Mohg now, where he’d previously only come up to his hip. He remembered that pretty vividly thanks to the image that had come into his head when they first fought. Okay yeah, maybe he had always been this horny. He had only come up to Godfrey’s thigh. Gareth wasn’t going to be power bombing anyone it the near future but if things continued as they had for the past few months he’d likely get at least that tall.

“I’m just afraid. I’m becoming something but I don’t quite understand what yet. What if I become something utterly repugnant?”

“Do you believe yourself repugnant?” If he was being truly honest with himself, he did not. If anything the changes exhilarated him. He felt he was coming closer and closer to his ideal self.

“No, I just worry Mohg will find me unattractive. I could not stand to lose him. I know you have no love for him, but there’s no one else I’ve ever loved before like I love him.”

“Rennala probably said the same thing about my parent.” The temperature of the arena dropped a few degrees. Malenia sighed. “Look, just go have an honest discussion with him about it if you’re so worried. If he says he hates it it wasn’t meant to be. It’s not like it’s something you can change after all. Although for the record, I think you look good.” She batted her blind eyes at him jokingly.

“Thanks, Malenia, I appreciate it.”

“Anyway as long as you don’t make a secondary body for yourself, and then marry it and have children that are incredibly cursed due to being the product of super incest, your marriage will probably be fine.”

“That’s really the best you’ve got?”

“I never had the best role models, and now every time I want to see my wife I have to go visit Maliketh. Do you know how weird that is? I haven’t seen her in centuries and we can only see each other in the company of my uncle, who is a priest mind you.”

“I know a castle just outside the Mistwood where you should be able to summon her. Used to belong to a man named Kenneth but he’s since left for Stormveil. I doubt he’d kick up a fuss if a certain demigod was to retire there.”

“Once my brother returns from his cocoon, perhaps. But I thank you for telling me. Perhaps the next time I’m given a break.”

“Would you like to see her now?” Malenia laughed.

“How could I? I haven’t been able to summon her here before, and believe me I’ve tried”

“Check your summoning bell.” She shook her head as she drew it out. It glowed blue as it did when it was prepared to bring forth the ashes of the dead. Malenia touched the metal of it and Gareth knew she’d feel the chill of necromancy under her fingertips. She barked out a laugh.

“How is this possible?”

“Summoning bells now register my presence as enough of a threat to allow their use.” Malenia rang the bell and a knight in clean rot armor materialized in the air next to her. Upon seeing Gareth she immediately pulled out her sword and scythe.

“No, wait, Finlay! This was the friend I was telling you about.”

It wouldn’t be until the birth of their children that they finally had the conversation. It was an easy birth. Gareth had occasionally assisted in births in his past life and knew well enough how to help his husband through it. It still took him a few hours to deliver the twins but Gareth ensured Mohg felt no pain for the duration. The first was a healthy baby girl with light hair, horns and golden eyes like her father, the second, a healthy baby boy with dark hair, like Gareth once had, and light brown eyes. They were so small. Gareth could practically hold one of them in the palm of his hand. If he still had eyes he would have started crying when Mohg asked if he wanted to hold them. His son’s little hands reached up to try and grab at the flame. His daughter merely watched, kneading his arm with her tiny claws.

“Are you alright?” Gareth had been incredibly still since he took the twins in his arms. Mohg knew it, he should have known before. He would protect his children no matter what. Even if he had to kill the Lord of Frenzied Flame.

“They’re so tiny.” He said it quietly as if he was afraid of scaring them. His voice was only in their heads he was incapable of startling them. But still he spoke so gently.

“Babies usually are,” Mohg responded, still defensively.

“I know but, even before I didn’t have- I- I never thought I’d be a father.” His husband was at a loss for words. If anything he always seemed to have too many. Not only that, but he seemed to be on the brink of tears. “I don’t want to mess this up.” His chest was heaving reflexively as if he was sobbing.

“Come here, you idiot.” Mohg opened his arms. Gareth fell into Mohg’s tired lap with their children. “Oof.”

“Sorry.” Warm flame kissed his face in apology. He’d gained significantly better control of the flame in the past nine months. He barely even scorched the bed sheets anymore. However, he did often forget how much taller he’d gotten. The King Eternal regularly smacked the core of his flame on, what were now to him, low ceilings when visiting lower courts on the surface. Truly the grace of a Lord. “I wanted to ask you, in all likelihood I won’t stop growing for a while, it isn’t off putting to you is it?” Well it was a little disappointing his head was no longer at just the right level to give head but Mohg had certainly been compensated in other ways.

“To revile another for aspects of their body they couldn’t or didn’t wish to change, it would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it, my lord.” He let his fangs brush against the god’s shoulder. Gareth shivered.

“I don’t know, it’s silly but I was worried, since I was much smaller when we met and all, that you wouldn’t find me attractive like this.”

“What wouldn’t I find attractive? You look the same to me.”

“Well I was, I don’t know, more vulnerable.”

“More vulnerable.”

“I was easier to torment. I thought you might’ve thought that was cute.”

“You burned half my face off the first time we had sex. You were hardly vulnerable.”

“So you’re still attracted to me?”

“I swear if I ever discover what comprised your skull I will make a shield out of it, for it must be the densest material in the lands between. Do you smell smoke?” Their daughter had pressed a tiny burning hand print into Gareth’s sleeve.

“Ah!” She offered helpfully. Gareth gasped.

“Look at you! You’re already using magic like daddy! Mohg, look she’s using magic!” Gareth was an idiot, he was easily distracted, and far too prone to overthinking. Their son grabbed his finger. “Oh! You’re such a strong little guy! Don’t worry, you’ll catch up. Uh, unless you don’t want to don’t feel pressured.” He said as if the baby understood him. “Oh!” His image fluttered and the flame disappeared leaving the image of his old face on top. “I heard it helps them learn to talk faster if they can see your lips move. It teaches them the shapes better.” He looked back and forth between Mohg and the twins nervously, looking for approval. He was going to be a great father.

“You promise that you won’t be angry with me?” Myrddin’s sword clashed against Gareth’s shield. It was getting harder these days to stave off his blows. His Uncle Blaidd had given him a sword much like his own and he’d taken to it with surprising ease for one so young. Ranni had conceded defeat much more gracefully than Garreth had expected and often visited the newly excavated capital. Likely partially to ensure he wasn’t exceeding his bounds. His son however, absolutely adored his Carian aunt and uncle.

“Whatever it is you have to tell me I won’t be angry.” Gareth began a counter attack with his spear but Myrddin leaped backwards. How he could be so nimble with such a large blade was beyond him. He pulled out a silvered wooden staff topped with a blue crystal, the kind used by Albinaurics. A phalanx of blades suddenly surrounded him. “Your aunt has been teaching you magic.” He swept his staff forward and it formed an icy sword that launched a cold blade into Gareth’s shield. “Your aunt has been teaching you magic for quite some time.”

“Yes.”

“Now why did you think I’d be angry with you for that?” Garreth dodged the hail of glint blades and launched a ball of fire in response.

“Well, you tried to teach me magic so many times and I was never able to grasp it before.” Myrddin ducked out of the way and jumped up into the air with his sword, flipping as he plunged it into the ground. A burst of cold blew from the site of impact, knocking Gareth’s shield out of the way. “I was worried you’d think I hadn’t been paying attention to your lessons.”

“Of course not, Ranni’s sorcery is completely different from my own. It’s not something I could teach. I’m merely happy you’ve found something that suits you.” Gareth brought his shield back up just in time to receive a crushing blow from his son’s sword. He fired off a Rejection knocking him back.

“Really?” He skidded to a halt with one gauntlet clawing the ground for purchase and then launched himself forward, almost like a Bloodhound Knight.

“Of course.” He stopped his son’s charge with the butt of his spear. “One of my companions back in the day also used cold magic. If you toss a fire jar at just the right time you can worsen the damage incurred by frostbite. Or you can always ask your fathers or your sister for help,” he hinted. Myrddin coughed and sputtered, recovering from the blow. Concerned, Gareth lowered his spear to check on him. His kindness was met instead with a face full of freezing mist.

“Thanks, dad.” That was his fault for dropping his guard. He’d trained the boy, he knew he was willing to fight dirty. Myrddin may have been a demigod but he was still a bandit’s son. Gareth would not have him fighting like a noble, that was a good way to get killed. The flame quickly ate through the frost coating his body. His son hadn’t expected that. He backed up in surprise and Gareth swept the shaft of his spear into the back of his legs, tripping him. He grabbed Myrddin’s arm as he lost his balance, preventing him from falling.

“You know I’ll always be there for you, right?” Gareth pulled him into a hug.

“Yeah, dad, I know”

“You’re sure this won’t hurt her?” Meinir looked up at her father, her hand still off in the realm of the Formless Mother. The girl was kind almost to a fault. Mohg was teaching her to harness the strength of an outer god and she was worried she could be hurting it. Kindness was her privilege of course, she had been gifted from the day she was born and raised in the highest court in The Lands Between. She could afford kindness, unlike Mohg when he was her age.

“I am certain. This is what she asks of all her worshipers. She wishes for us to sink our claws into her flesh and draw out her blood. The gods have strange desires beyond our ken.”

“Like that time dad ate all those hot peppers even though he clearly disliked them?” The children had made their own garden in the castle after receiving seeds as a gift from the inhabitants of Jarburg. They had given Gareth and himself the products of their first harvest to try, what were at the time unbeknownst to them, peppers created for use in offensive aromatics. Mohg had tried one and immediately stopped due to the heat, but Gareth insisted on eating them despite his obvious discomfort.

“I’m afraid that your father is just an idiot actually. He would’ve done that if he was a mortal man as well.” Meinir laughed.

“Well he likely thought it was a kindness at least.”

“You’re stalling again.” Mohg felt through the edge of the world until he found his daughter’s hand. He pressed it against the flesh of his patron. “Go on. She’s right there. Give her a wound.” Meinir dug her claws into the god and brought forth the flaming blood from within. Her face was pale. Mohg brought a hand to her shoulder. “You do not need to do this again if you do not wish to, but I believe I would be remiss if I did not show you the way omens once had to take power for ourselves,” he said quietly. “Our histories were hidden from us as we were hidden from all others. Even if you do not carry on our traditions of magic, I wish for you to at least understand how they work, so that you may tell others and they might preserve them.” She swallowed.

“I’m alright father, merely unused to the feeling. I set out to understand each and every one of the flames that exist in our world. The bloodflame is no exception.” She shook off her claws and the blood cast from them sizzled as it hit the floor. “There is something in this world that sets all alight. Madness, sleep, blood, even the spirits of the dead burn with cold flame. I wish to know why. Will you show me again, father? I think I can do it myself this time.” Mohg recognized that set in her jaw. She was determined to work past her hesitation.

“Alright then, imagine a wound opening in the air in front of you. Remember you need to remain absolutely focused.”

“Mohg! Our son knows magic!” If the King Eternal could actually speak Mohg’s ears would be ringing. He burst through the door to the library holding their son aloft. Myrddin covered his face in embarrassment.

“You know magic?!” Meinir shouted in delight.

“Please put me down.” Myrddin asked dejectedly.

“My dear, if you don’t let go of him he won’t be able to show us anything.” In the now sixteen years since they first wed Mohg had eventually become comfortable enough to use terms of endearment for his husband, however if the reddening of Garreth’s hands as he put Myrddin down was any indication, he was still very much untired of hearing them. He still practically hopped up and down in excitement as Myrddin approached.

“Father,” he bowed his head. He was serious and studious, his brown eyes always shining with wary intelligence. More cynical than his sister but always ready to leap to her defense.

“Well then, what has the witch taught you?”

“You knew?!” Garreth interrupted.

“It would be difficult for me not to, with her skulking about every night.” The tips of Myrddin’s ears turned red, clearly he thought he had been more stealthy about it. “Well, go on. Show us what you’ve learned.” He produced a staff of albinauric make, ah so he’d inherited some of Mohg’s blood after all. He focused for a moment and drove the staff into the ground whipping up a storm of ice. Books blew off the shelves and the room was coated in a thin layer of frost. Mohg felt through the skin of the world and allowed flaming blood to rain upon him, clearing it away. “A good choice my son. The cold suits you well. You intend to keep up your study of the blade as well?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. You are far too skilled for that talent to go to waste. How long has my sister been instructing you?”

“About three months now.”

“And you’ve already become this skilled?”

“Yes.” He challenged him with his gaze as always.

“Then I can expect great things from you in the future then.” Mohg smiled. “You’ve done well, my son. However, I do insist that in the future, you confer with us before making any deals with relatives. My family can be difficult to say the least.” Myrddin bared his teeth, a pity the boy wasn’t born an Omen.

“You taught me to handle myself well enough.” He laughed deep in his throat.

“That I did.” Mohg laughed. Meinir rolled her eyes as her father and brother cackled menacingly at each other. Gareth extended a hand to her.

“Would you like to come water the garden with me while those two are being evil together?”

“Yes I think I would like that very much.” She took her father’s hand.