#tiny little dabble

[draconic-ichor]

A Painting

Morgott/Lady Tarnished little ficlet

“Mine Lady…Doth thou truly think this all necessary…” Morgott shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes.” Her voice was stern, ever the one to be unyielding. She was busy preening him, carefully brushing his hair to neatness.

He opened his mouth to speak, wincing ever so slightly as the Lady found a knot in his silver curls.

She didn’t allow his words free, interrupting, “There is a painting for every demigod in this hall, except his Lordship’s. Iv already freed up your schedule and commissioned the painters, you are getting a portrait started today!”

“Mine Lady…”

She stopped her toils to point the brush showily around the hall, “Every demigod, even Mohg!”

“…even Mohg…” he echoed, golden eye shifting to glance at the darkened portrait of his twin, bright crimson decorating around its edges. It was a thoughtful gesture, he had to admit.

“Who is missing?” She asked, looking poignantly at the yawning emptiness next to her own portrait.

“Nary a soul worth a place upon thine wall.” He sighed wearily.

The Lady took a breath, reminding herself of the delicate foundation Morgott’s meager confidence was balancing on.

Changing her tactic she turned away, sighing, “Perhaps his Lordship would rather sire new demigods? Would fill the empty space then?”

He didn’t respond, the lady taking a few steps forwards, showily opening her arms wide “It is such a large space, he will surely have to keep me as a breeding mare!”

“Cease!” He reached out to softly take her shoulders, voice tight and restrained. He pulled her back against his chest almost begging, “Cease…Let us begin the portrait.”

“Are you sure?” She crossed here arms stubbornly, “I quite like the idea.”

He grumped a bit, nose in the crown of her hair, “Let us do thy portrait…for now, beloved mine.”

She looked over the top of her head to him, giving him a comforting smile, “It will be over before you know it.”

“Thee moments shall be counted.” He frowned, squeezing her a bit, “Prithee, promise me something?”

“Hm?”

“Doth not force myself to witness its unveiling.” His voice was distance, eyes closing as he spoke.

The Lady raised a hand, cupping his cheek gently, “I promise.”

He hummed a bit, holding her for another long moment before releasing her. The Lady finished getting him ready and posed, running off to fetch the painters soon after.

Now alone in the hall, Morgott glanced over all the paintings one by one. They all spanned from ceiling to floor, little brass nameplates with the demigod’s name and title below. He swallowed, golden gaze falling on the painting of Mohg. His chest hurt, looking away.

[draconic-ichor]

If I might make a request, could we be graced with something fluffy, like Mohg playing with Morgott's tail when they were kids?

Yessssss!

Some art to go with too!

Always Loved

Young Morgott/Mohg dabble

Warning: strong language, blood/gore, mentions of animal death, light mentions of wounds

It had been a hard few weeks: scraps from the surface dwindled now that the seasons became cold, and the bitter chill twisted down into the darkness of the shunning grounds.

The omen twins grew desperate, having to hunt more dangerous game for food. They were not opposed to eating rats, but here the creatures grew giant and deadly.

Their hunt was fruitful, but came at a cost. Mohg, the younger of the two, had a chunk taken from his arm during the fight.

Morgott had patched him up, using bits of his own robe to bandage his forearm. Mohg watched him with wet eyes, a little grimace from the pain creasing his face.

Morgott frowned, insides ate up with guilt. He softly touched his twin’s face, “It’s alright…”

Mohg gave a little nod.

“I’ll cook for thee.” Morgott soothed, standing to drag the rat back to their makeshift home. It was slow going, the young boys careful to mask the trail of blood so no unwanted visitors would be had.

Morgott knew a small bit of magic, taught by the older omen that roamed the pipes, just enough to make sparks. After the fire was made he roughly butchered their kill and began to cook bits of it at a time.

Mohg ate everything handed to him ravenously, sharp teeth making short work of the charred flesh. Morgott watched him from across the meager fire. He took a few small bites before handing the rest of chunks to the other.

Once full, mohg retreated to their nest to rest and heal. Morgott tended the fire for a while longer, watching the shadows dance over the stone. He eventually joined his twin, sharing warmth and comfort.

~

Morgott sat, looking over his little collection of dried erdleaves, some still held small hints of a golden glow to them. He picked one up, turning it over in his clawed hand. His tail began to flick a bit, horns scraping hollowly along the stone floor.

Mohg rolled over in their makeshift nest, rubbing at his injured arm absentmindedly. His orange gaze locked onto his twin’s tail, following it back and forth. He slowly rose to all fours, crawling forward as silently as he was able.

Morgott heard him instantly, but decidedly didn’t react, keeping his eyes on his leaves.

Mohg crept closer, tilting his head to the side to study the movements. His pupils expanded, butt wiggling a bit in his excitement. Morgott’s lips curled, swishing his tail enticingly, still pretending not to notice.

The other’s muscles bunched before he pounced. He grabbed Morgott’s tail, falling heavily on his side to gently bite at it.

Morgott jolted a bit, giggling and trying to pull his tail free. The movements spurred mohg on, kicking and rolling around, playing like a young kitten.

After a particularly rough bite, Morgott gave a little squeal, pulling his tail away. Mohg huffed, sitting up.

“Thou art feeling better.” Morgott laughed, rounding on the other.

Mohg went back on all fours, dropping into a position akin of a playful hound. He smiled with too many teeth, wiggling. Morgott mimicked the stance, tail fluffing up. Seeing the other join in made the younger twin’s eyes sparkle.

He made a little growl before jumping. The twins wrestled a bit, all playful bites and rolling about the cobbled floor.

They scuffled for a time before chasing one another. Morgott dove into their nest, Mohg hot on his trail. They shuffled around until comfortable, Mohg giving the other a headbump.

Morgott smiled, returning the gesture. They began to settle, bodies a tangle of gangly limbs and a long tail. Mohg huffed, cuddling into the other’s warmth. Morgott softly pressed his lips to the other’s forehead before tucking into sleep.

History would record that the Omen King was never loved: not by his gods or the Greater Will, that his curse alone branded him a pariah. But that was all a lie, for he was always loved. For no one loved him more than his dear brother, Mohgwyn…

[draconic-ichor]

A Big Step

Fluffy tiny dabble

Morgott and Lír/Matilda

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes

Summary: Morgott and Lír spend more time together in the greenhouse

“Thee cares for Matilda?” Morgott asked, carefully packing seedling into a crate.

“Very much!” Lír nodded, handing over a bucket of wet sawdust.

Morgott dipped a hand into the bucket, face pinching as he pushed it back towards the other. “Squeeze that out a bit, would ye?” He flicked away dampness from his fingers, “Much too wet, would cause rot.”

Lír nodded, taking the bucket over to a grate. Kneeling down, he set to work squeezing excess water from the sawdust. They both worked in silence for a bit before Lír spoke, almost absentmindedly, “I’d fancy to make her my wife one day…”

“Art thou asking for mine blessing?” Morgott chuckled, not looking up from his task.

Lír flushed a bit, gulping before answering, “Not technically just yet, my Lord.”

Morgott hummed a bit, seemingly uninterested. But as Lír brought the much more acceptable sawdust back to him, he found his voice once more. Setting to work gently placing the seedlings into the prepared crate he asked, “Doth thee has a ring?”

“Not yet…” Lír sighed.

“Surely if thy wisheth to marry mine daughter, thee must have procured the runebear skull?” He didn’t look up from his work, voice expectant.

“R-Runebear skull?”

“Aye, tis tradition.” Morgott lied through his teeth, taking extra care to feign seriousness.

Lír paled, setting down the bucket.

Morgott turned just enough to catch the young man’s reaction. Lír looked absolutely grave, causing Morgott to boom with laughter.

Realizing the ruse, Lír blurted out, “That’s cruel!” His voice was thick with shock, never expecting his Lord to jest as such.

The others look of astonishment made Motgott laugh harder, needing to turn away for a moment.

“I would of gotten eaten, believing you!” Lír squeaked, face flushing deeper the more the other enjoyed the situation.

“Mine dear boy-“ Morgott coughed a bit as he tried to compose himself. He found his calm, finishing up the crate. Lír fetched him the paint, the Lord scrawling down its destination before sending it off. He thanked Lír for his time, leaving the young man to return to his duties.

That night Lír stood over a small table in a castle sitting room. Fire crackled in the hearth sending the small room into an amber glow. Lír poured a cup of tea, stirring in a spoonful of honey before adding a sprig of lemon thyme.

He mindfully brought to cup over to Matilda, handing it to her gently. She sat on a small sofa, taking the cup thankfully.

“Careful, it’s hot.” Lír warned, before sitting down beside her.

“Thank you.” She smiled, stirring the lemon thyme a bit in the tea.

Lír pulled off his boots, stretching out his toes towards the fire. He leaned back, decompressing a bit.

“How was your day?” Matilda asked, blowing on her tea.

“The morning was quite normal, however,” he started.

“However?” Matilda perked up.

Sitting forward, Lír informed, “His Lordship jested with me!”

“Surly not!” Matilda sat her cup down, sounding skeptical.

“His Lordship did!” Lír insisted, “Truly had me going. I even heard him laugh.”

Matilda smiled, clasping her hands together, “That’s wonderful!” Her chest felt warm, pulling Lír closer. His cheeks flushed a bit as she dipped her face closer to his.

“Thank you.” She smiled, lips ghosting over his, “For spending so much time with Father.”

Lír tilted his head a bit, amber eyes full of their sparkle, “I’m learning much from him, truly.”

“It’s good for him…he’s been somber since Magnus left.” She admitted, pressing her forehead to his, “I’m overjoyed you both are bonding.”

Lír closed his eyes, leaning into the contact. Matilda ran her fingers through his curls before her hand drifted along his jaw. Her forefinger tilted his head up ever so slightly, pressing her lips against his. Lír melted into the act. Matilda nipped at his lower lip, giggling at the little sound that slipped out of his throat.

The kiss broke, Matilda touching his cheek and teasing, “Your face is so hot suddenly, Sir Lír.”

Lír chuckled weakly from embarrassment, pants suddenly feeling tight. “D-Does my Lady require more tea?” He asked, attempting to change the subject.

“No, Iv plenty to sate my thirst right here.” She gave a fanged smile, pulling him back into another kiss.

[draconic-ichor]

Ahh I'm so excited to see you're Elden Ring AU again!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Oh, thank you!!

I’m very happy you enjoy it. I have a tiny bit more for you too

Some Papa Morgott and tiny toddler Matilda:

Matilda toddled up to the large bed, having to crane her neck just to look up it. She could hear the breathing of her father, soft and deep, from above. Using her small clawed hands she climbed up the bed by the blanket.

Her movements didn’t wake Morgott, neither did he stir when she plopped down on his chest. The small child shifted forward, reaching out to pull gently at her father’s eyelid. She forced his eye open, “Papa.”

Morgott jerked awake.

In a moment he realized where he was and his child sat upon his chest. He groaned, easing back into the pillows once more, “Hm, mine dear flower?“

“Papa.” Matilda scooted a bit closer to his face, almost touching noses with him to see him clearly. In the sweetest little voice she asked, oozing with innocence, “What is a wench?”

“Pardon?” Morgott opened his eye again.

“What is a wench?” She asked again, curiously.

Morgott sat up a bit, bringing a hand to catch Matilda as she tumbled backwards from the movement.

“Where didst thee heareth such words?” He asked, now fully awake.

“The knights.” Matilda chirped, “I asked Mama, but she told me to ask you.”

“Didst she?” Morgott pinched the bridge of his nose, brow taught.

“Mhm!” Matilda moved to reach up for his whispers, “What is it?”

“A wench is…” Morgott wracked his brain, “A wench is the tool used to draw up the bucket from a well.”

It was technically correct but he assumed it wasn’t the type of wench the knights would be speaking of.

“…oh.” She looked more confused, sitting back on his lap. Finally she asked again, “But papa, why would a tavern need wenches?”

“I must have words with the knights and where they gossip…” Morgott hissed under his breath. Backed up in a corner he began to speak, “In some occasions, a wench is the maiden that serves the drinks in a tavern.” He ventured.

Matilda gave a big smile, “Oh!”

Morgott stood, holding Matilda in his arms. He wiped his face with his free hand, stepping out into the hall.

“Papa?” She chirped again.

“Aye?”

“If it’s a lady that serves drinks,” she asked, “Is that why the knight said he had so many?”

Morgott sighed, “Let’s take thee to thy mother, and Papa will speak to the knights.”

“Oh, ok.” She nodded, “About so many drinks?”

“Aye…” he lied, patting her small head.

[draconic-ichor]

Honesty

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes

The Lady shared a meal with her oldest child, the prince Maddox. He was a man now, had been for years. Time together like this was becoming harder to come by, the two in deep conversation.

The Lady suddenly grew silent, setting down her cutlery quietly. Maddox gave her a questioning look, pointed ears flicking.

“My handmaidens were straightening up your quarters and found this..” she produced a coin-like item from her dress pocket, setting it down on the table between them.

Maddox stopped chewing for a second, recognizing it instantly: it was made of polished bronze with a relief of a feminine figure upon its surface.

“It’s a token for a brothel within the city.” The tarnished explained. She looked up to her son now, “Is it yours?”

Maddox chewed his bite, swallowing. His golden eyes flicked down to the item before meeting his mother’s gaze once more, answering blankly, “It is.”

The Lady Tarnished folded her hands in her lap and asked evenly, “And were you planning on using it?”

“I am.” He nodded, face unreadable.

They both held the gaze for a long heartbeat. The Lady folding first, moving to cut her meat. “Thank you, for being honest with me.” She sank into ease once more.

Maddox nodded again, “Of course.” Going back for another bite.

They went about the rest of the meal normally, Maddox taking a moment to slide the token closer. He stowed it away in his pocket, not to be spoken of a second time.