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It was ever so quiet in the blood-ridden palace; nighttime struck as the albinaurics and other creatures skulking about retired for the night. Fellow members of the dynasty returned to their quarters, all except for one, Mistress.
It was ever so rare for her dear husband, Luminary Mohg, to come back out of the cacoon that was sitting ever so still on their thrones. The only form of life showing was the very hand of the Formless Mother herself, yet it made no effort to make contact with others. Mohg has been trying ever so desperately to bring the Formless Mother into the Lands Between. Even going ever so far as to sacrifice the demigod Miquella in her name, leaving him crucified on the highest point of the palace, but alas, nothing came.
Mistress always lay near the thrones; it was common near the midnight hour. Praying for the possible day that her beloved shall visit outside of his duty of being a demigod. Her heart has been stuck in a void for so long, yet she still showed love in front of the cacoon, holding it ever so close. The court knew about Mistress's kind of events and was ever so worried for her mental state. Chatting amongst themselves in silence about what shall become of their fair lady, they fear that she might fall into the state of depression that affected Queen Renalla when Radagon left her all those years ago.
It was colder tonight in the underground; the sound of flames could be heard from all over but was cut out by the sound of footsteps. Varre, one of the nameless white-masked men who was favored more in the court, traversed the empty, thorny walls decorated with roses. He heard the conversations from Melchior and Seraph, fellow close members of Varre, assigning him to receive their fair lady for the night. Melchior, being the one to protect anyone close to him, especially the Omens, was the one to order Varre to do so, as their lady hasn't been returning to her room for the night and has been sleeping next to the cacoon instead. Varre very much felt sympathetic, as he too wished to see his Lord Mohg and to bask in his love, yet he learned patience.
Having easy access to the elevator, he stood right in front of the throne room, ever so nervous to walk in, but he knew he would be safe. Walking in, it was easy to see the sight of Mistress lying on the floor, slumped on the pelvis of the cacoon, ever so wishing to see her beloved husband. Varrés heart felt shattered; seeing his beloved Mistress yearn for the love of their lord, he could only give so much to her and retrieve much more in the end.
"M'lady?" Varre said, slowly approaching Mistress. He couldn't show much expression under his mask, but if possible, his brows would've shown they were furrowed together.
Mistress was long gone, passed out, her eyebags now showing from how much she was crying that night. Varré couldn't bear to see his lady in this condition.
Oh, Luminary Mohg, forgive me, but what shame we have brought upon our beloved. Look how much she has done for you..." With sorrow in Varré's tone, he gently picked up his lady bridal style. Letting her dark brown hair flow off his arms, and the slight sound of moans escaped her lips. He didn't dare wake her up; he let her continue to sleep in his arms.
He held her close, staring right up at the arm that was the Formless Mother. A hand covered in deep red flesh reached for the sky up above. The procedure felt so close to finishing, but why, why just the hand must be forming out? And what for? "Oh, my goddess, grant us the strength to prosper and to give our lord strength..." Varre pleaded. He only ever prayed to Mohg, but he was ever so worried for his lord that he prayed to the Formless Mother.
He started to walk out of the throne room. Having Mistress's head close to his shoulder, he wished to kiss her sorrowful head, yet he was stuck under the blank expression of a mask.
Crack
Stopping quickly in his tracks, the sound caught him off guard. Turning around ever so slowly to see if something had happened to the cacoon, but nothing had. It all still looked the same, and Varre thought he was possibly hallucinating as it was very late in the night. Shaking it off in his head, he continued to walk out and back into the empty, cold hallways of the Mohgwyn Palace.
Despite the candlelight leading down the hallways, it still felt dark. Seeing the exhausted face of Mistress, he never dared to ask much of her, but yet it lingered in the back of his mind as to how she knew everyone before he had joined the dynasty. He questioned Melchior before, but it was vague, and he didn't push it any further.
Continuing as the cloth from Mistress flowed along the breeze of the open air, they arrived at her quarters. There appeared to be two large doors that were big enough for Mohg to fit right in; thankfully, he had enough strength to open one himself. It was massive, as candlelight was spread everywhere in the room. It had a gothic red feel, perfect for Mistress's stern personality. Walking along to the large bed covered in the richest kind of silk, Varre gently placed his lady on her side of the comforter.
Varre knew he was safe enough to take off his mask, as he trusted his lover enough to know him personally. He's thankful to be in a kind of relationship with Mistress and Mohg. Seeing such beauty under the candlelight softened his eyes, and he couldn't help but gently kiss her forehead.
Such was an itty-bitty mistake. Varre, still staring at Mistress, noticed she started to make movements; her eyes slowly lifted. "Oh, my dear, I'm sorry, did I awaken you?" Varre spoke in a quiet, melodious voice, gently stroking her hair.
"Varre?" Mistress questioned, yawning, noticing she was back in her room. "I've fallen asleep again, haven't I?" Sitting herself up as her robe scarf kept sliding off her shoulders.
"I'm afraid you had; it's becoming quite a bad habit, you know." Varre scolded. Grabbing ahold of his mask again to set it to the side, he also climbed onto the bed to sit next to his beloved. "The court is worried for you and your mind," he said, gently placing his head on her shoulders after kissing them.
"I'm very aware of that...yet I yearn for his touch." She felt greatly upset. She was aware of how Mohg's mission would take a very long time to complete and how it would benefit their new upcoming dynasty against the Golden Order, but she simply wished he would take a break from time to time.
Gently stroking Varre's hair "Oh Varre, you've done well for tonight, but I wish to simply be alone." Mistress said, as her hand cupped the side of his scruffy face, that it was clear enough that she was very tired.
Disappointed, he still respected her wishes. "Very well, M'lady...do get enough beauty sleep." Varre gently grabbed her palm to place a kiss on the back. Getting himself off, he grabbed his mask, and his face was hidden away once again. Straightening out his back, he walked himself out, grabbing ahold of the door to look back at Mistress, who was more expressing dejection. He very much wanted to stay to give much-needed comfort, but he turned back around and closed the door behind him. She was back to being alone once again in the night.
How long has it been since she's been alone like this, sitting in a dark room, fearful of the unknown. It reminded her of the times she first entered the sewers, yet the omens, fearful of her, still came for her quick aid. Despite how much her court is willing to do for her, even Varre, her heart still yearns for the Omens.
When she decided to get out of bed, she knew she had to change out of her royal garb. Stepping her way through the empty, lit room to her wardrobe, she opened it to reveal nothing more but red. They had to stick with the theme of red, but it showed the kind of power they truly had in their hands. Stripping out and removing her many jewelry pieces, she only ever wore a loose, smooth silk robe showing its crimson glow to bed, having it always slide down her shoulders and not bothering to cover herself up. She knew how Mohg always loved how Mistress would treat her body and show off, never caring for what other royalty had to say.
It was so much darker than usual that she couldn't see where she was stepping as she continued to walk around her room. The darkness would prove enough that it was bad as she stumbled over a clump of cloth. Hissing under her breath, she wondered what she had even tripped over. Grabbing one of the candles, she followed the trail to see that it was covering some form of a large portrait. Gently staring, her curiosity got the better of her, and grabbing ahold of the end, she pulled it from the side to reveal what it must've been.
Her eyes widen with shock, and tears form from the corners of her eyes. It was a portrait of Morgott, making her drop the light source to the ground; she was in shock. How long has it been since she ever saw Morgott? It's been so long that she lost her sense of time as the Omen blood she consumed made her live for this long.
She didn't even consider questioning why Mohg would keep a portrait of Morgott in their room; she could only think about the time she and Morgott spent together. She remembered how he was more gentle towards her down in the sewers.
"Oh...Morgott" Mistress had clung onto the portrait, hand on the cloth, keeping it open as the other rested on the other side, as she rested her head onto it. Despite how stern he had looked, she longed for his touch, his company, and his compassion once again. Slumping to the floor as tears started to flow out of her eyes, she was very drained from her duties. Sometimes wishing time was simple and back to being normal before the shattering happened.
Memories started to flow back. Back down in the sewers with the two Omens and how she grew up alongside them all because of one ring that she still wears to this very day, she remembers how she would teach him as much as she could when she used to be part of the church. Despite how their mother shunned them, he always still wanted to know more about the Golden Order; as for Mohg, he was very different. Despite being opposites, they were very close to each other, being brothers and all, It was uncommon to see them separated, and being under Melchior's protection, everything was at peace for the five of them.
Yet she still remembered that one faithful day. After the shattering had happened, Morgott had betrayed them all and left them alone in the sewers, yet she was the only one crying out to him to come back. Mistress very much cared for Morgott, nearing genuine feelings, but as he left, he broke her into pieces. But yet, after finding love in the Formless Mother, she did marry Mohg in the end, but deep down she still cared for Morgott, despite how Mohg would forever shun him.
Wiping away her tears, she looked down at herself, touching the scar on her chest that was now covered in the symbol of the dynasty. She couldn't still recall fully what happened that night; it happened so fast that all she could've seen was Morgott, his golden eyes filled with such rage that it turned into shock. It was months after she said her vows to Mohg that she was still down the subterranean shunning grounds before traveling down here to be her new permanent home. Ever so wishing she could still see him one last time, she was convinced that he wouldn't want to do anything with her or Mohg anymore; she knew he was permanently gone from her life.
The tears wouldn't stop, and she curled herself up as she lay on the wall that held the portrait up, seeing how his golden eyes vanished back under the dark cloth. He was gone from her once again, yet this was her fate, as she chose it herself. She chose to be with her husband, Mohg, and bring on a new age, but was this truly what she wanted deep down? She couldn't decide for herself anymore; she had made herself into a fine woman at this point, and there was no going back.
But she did make it a bad habit to sleep anywhere other than the bed, as her eyes started to get heavy. Drifting off to sleep against the wall, found it oddly more comfortable at this point.
It was very gloomy in her mind, floating alone in the abyss as if it were water keeping her afloat. It felt strangely familiar, like when she was subjected to blood on the day of her wedding, but it was different. It seemed as if she was drowning deeper and deeper into the darkness, seeing such a faint light disappear from her grasp. Trying to swim towards it, she wanted it ever so desperately; she ever wondered if she managed to grab it, what her life could've been like if she had gone with Morgott instead, how different she could've become, and how possibly a new life for the Omens could happen. Yet she fell deeper and deeper into nothingness.
The falling of her dream made her wake up, but not in a jolt. Noticing how high she was off the ground confused her exhausted mind, but she could recognize this height.
Not wanting to make a sound, she could hear the clinking sounds of golden jewelry being taken off and the soft sounds of snarls coming from above her. Adjusting her eyes, she could see the shadowed figure. It was him, her dear husband Mohg, finally free from the grasp of the Formless Mother for this moment.
She wanted to cry even more, but she couldn't due to how worn out she had become from this night. She could only ever hold onto him tight as he stripped himself of his clothes and gently placed themselves on their shared bed.
"Forgive me, my dearest Bowie..." Despite Mistress pretending to be asleep, she could hear all of the things Mohg was saying. Having him hold her close to his chest and placing the covers over her the most, Mohg was aware how much he might have hurt her being away for so long, but he felt like he was close enough to bring the Formless Mother to life.
"Shall I never part with you for the night, I'll forever still stick with you by your side...my beloved." Mohg continued to whisper, not wanting to wake his wife.
This was able to calm Mistress from her ravaging thoughts, allowing her to finally properly drift off to sleep peacefully while being held in the large hands of the Omen, wishing for this moment to never end.
“Goodnight, my love..."