Chapter Four - Battle & Blood

Long had Mohg slumbered within the confines of the temple he'd claimed for his consort-to-be, and even longer still had he remained in this fluid state, simply for the sake of being as close to Miquella as physically possible. To become the blood of his blood, and flesh of his flesh, if you will. To cling so much like a parasite, one which couldn't be removed at that - lest the host be damaged in the process. Even longer still had he and his followers built up their base of power here, working without end to ensure they would not be discovered by your average passerby.

It was why he had chosen the caverns beneath Leyndell in the first place. After all, what safer place could there be for one such as him than the very foot of his mother's throne? Craven witch she might have been. That is what the Lord of Blood thought as he slumbered at the base of Miquella's cocoon, completely unaware of the creatures that approached him with malice in their hearts and death in their eyes…

Or so his dormancy would have them believe. In truth Mohg had been aware of their presence from the moment they set foot in his domain, for his servants had made note of them even as the interlopers moved to cut them down, and alerted him through the blood bond they shared. Who was he, therefore, to keep these violent upstarts - these ambitious Tarnished - waiting? There was vitae to be had! And he as the lord of a glorious new dynasty would be the one to spill it.

Miquella's emaciated hand fell as though possessed, and from its length a trickle of blackened blood came for what felt like minutes on end. When the discharge finally ceased, however, Mohg rose from the pool like a specter to take hold of his beloved's hand.

"Dearest Miquella," he drawled, resting his head against the Empyrean's hand for a time, before pulling away. "You must abide alone a while."

Pushing Miquella's hand upward and letting it hang there, Mohg whirled round to face his newest victims with trident in hand…

"Welcome, honoured guest. To the birthplace of our dynas-"

…only to be cut abruptly short as a dull gold… something streaked just beneath his nose. It was only after a failed attempt at further pontification, along with the all-too-familiar creep of pain and a more detailed inspection of his own face that Mohg finally began to comprehend exactly what had happened.

Someone had sliced off his jaw. The same someone, he reckoned, who was now skulking in the shadows at his back with blade in hand. That was all well and good. His injuries could be healed and the intruder dealt with. No, it was what happened next that truly gave him pause.

"Hello Mohg, you repugnant little lech."

His eyes widened and he stumbled forward with a gurgled scream, blood and spittle spilling from the hole in his face to stain the masonry beneath their feet.

'That voice, it can't be…'

"You stole my brother from me."

Mohg managed to turn at last, and when he did, his blood ran cold. For there stood Malenia, her sword slick with gristle and blood.

His gristle and his blood.

"And now I've come to take him home."

Snarling, he brought his trident to bear against her, only to find his legs giving out on him at the last second - rendering his attack completely harmless. Lowering his gaze, he found himself facing an even greater shock. That of a warrior wielding, of all things, Maliketh's Black Blade. The very same blade that had once held the Rune of Death by virtue of his mother's command. Of course, the Lord of Blood didn't know that it had been removed. Couldn't have, since Maliketh had taken the Rune into his own body after the advent of Godwyn's death, while Mohg himself had been banished to the shadows long before then. He'd only dared to move into the world above amidst the chaos of the Shattering, and even then that was only so he could get his hands on a shard of the Ring.

So, when the blade first bit into his gnarled flesh, Mohg unleashed not a cry but a whimper - for he wholeheartedly believed that his time had come to an end. That his almighty dynasty would falter before it had even begun. But when nothing happened - save for a spot of bleeding and a smidgeon of pain - he let loose the rough approximation of a devilish laugh.

'I know not what hath occured on the surface to blunt Maliketh's teeth so,' Mohg mused, for that was all he could do with his jaw absent. 'But I am glad fortune hath seen fit to smile upon me nonetheless.'

Furrowing his brow and tamping down the pain, Mohg spun round to strike the warrior with the flat of his trident. And to the Omen's credit his blow landed true, sending the man skipping across the cathedral floor to land in a heap some feet away, though Mohg had a feeling he wouldn't be down for very long. Any warrior traveling in the company of his half-sister was likely to be formidable in their own right, to say nothing of a man who could wield the blade of Maliketh, diminished as it might have been.

Wishing to avoid be caught unawares, Mohg sent a wave of boiling blood arcing towards his sister to slow her advance while he put some distance between himself and the end of her sword, before calling on the power imbued in his veins by the Formless Mother to mend his wounds. Made whole once more, Mohg then went on the offensive as the warrior he swatted away earlier rejoined the fight, sending torrents of bloodflame flying this way and that - before ultimately trading blows with Malenia and her companion whenever their armaments danced a little too close for comfort.

Yet, though he'd tried his damndest, Mohg just couldn't separate the two of them long enough to land a killing blow. For whenever he sought to exploit the openings left by the warrior Malenia would appear, either to fend him off with a swift twist of her blade, or shove the Draconian out of harm's way entirely. And whenever he moved to skewer Malenia, the Tarnished would appear to block or otherwise deflect his blow, allowing his half-sister the opportunity to mount a counterattack - when the two of them weren't dodging his attacks or pushing the offensive outright that is. Matter of fact, the two of them worked together so well that at times it appeared as though they were of a single mind, although such a thing was impossible of course. It was merely their experience and skill totally eclipsing his that created the illusion of such.

Not that this information helped Mohg much. The three of them had been at it for hours at this point, and where his opponents had plenty of energy left to spare, his stamina had begun to wane along with his health. Already several jagged wounds crisscrossed his body, and more than a few of his horns were missing, to say nothing of the damage inflicted upon his left leg. Now naught but a bloody stump courtesy of one of the Tarnished's wild swings.

"You… I will not let you take him from me you pestilent whore!" Mohg spat, his eyes alight with an unholy rage. "Nor your mongrel of a shadow!"

Mohg went quiet then, having fallen into a violent coughing fit. One that saw him hack up more of his ruined insides.

"I… I will not… no, I refuse to let you ruin our destiny! Our dynasty!"

The Lord of Blood let slip a guttural roar as a pair of wings sprouted from his back. Giving them an experimental flap, he rested his ruined body upon his trident for but a moment before taking to the air to attack Malenia and her hound from on high.

"Tres."

The first ring appeared about the warrior's waist.

"Duo."

Then the second.

"Unnus."

And the third.

Mohg smiled. He had them now, he was sure of it. The Draconian warrior was much too far to close this distance between them and attack from behind. Once he had been dealt with, all Mohg had to worry about was his half-sister. A challenge to be sure, especially in his current state, but one he felt more than capable of tackling. He was no mere whelp after all. Nay, he was an undisputed master of the bloodflame! Lord of Blood and foremost servant of the Formless Mother!

He would succeed.

He would. For Miquella and their dynasty.

"Now Malenia! While he's distracted!"

Mohg blinked.

'What on earth are they do-'

Was the last thought to rattle around the Omen's skull before it tumbled from his shoulders in the wake of his half-sister's killing stroke. The rest of his body followed shortly thereafter - as did Malenia for she had decided to ride his corpse down - cracking the stonework on impact.

Just like that the battle was over.

Mohg had been slain.

Author's Note: And that's chapter four done and dusted. Chapter five will cover the aftermath of the fight, Malenia's reunion (loosely speaking) with her brother, and the beginning of their journey to Farum Azula. Because we still have the Rot to cure. Also, while I didn't originally intend on writing this chapter from Mohg's point of view, once I started it was kind of impossible to stop. All in all though I think it works pretty well.