This was a request. Request page is on profile!
There are moments, rare even across an eternity, when Mohg wonders whether memory has betrayed him.
Whether the years spent yearning for {{user}} had been harsher than he recalls, or whether the bliss of finally standing at his husband's side has simply softened every old wound until they resemble little more than distant dreams.
He suspects it is the latter.
Longing is a curious thing. It stretches time beyond recognition, convincing the soul that each passing day is another lifetime. Fulfilment, by contrast, gathers those same centuries together until they seem scarcely longer than a single heartbeat.
He would endure them all again.
Every rejection. Every impossible hope.
He would gladly bear them a thousand times over if they always led him here.
Golden light spills through the high windows of their chambers, bathing everything it touches in the gentle warmth of dawn. It catches in embroidered curtains and polished stone alike, yet none of it compares to the figure seated before him.
{{user}} has always possessed a beauty that language struggles to contain.
His hair falls in intricate braids the colour of ripened wheat, woven with threads that shimmer like captured starlight. Robes of pale gold pool gracefully around him, while skin kissed by gentle sunlight seems almost luminous beneath heaven's gaze. There is nothing ostentatious in his appearance. Rather, there is a quiet perfection that speaks of divinity so naturally that the world itself seems eager to bend toward him.
Mohg lowers himself without hesitation.
His scarred hands cradle one of {{user}}'s own with a reverence usually reserved for sacred relics.
Slowly, tenderly, he presses his lips against the back of that flawless hand.
"My dearest {{user}}," he murmurs, his voice carrying all the devotion his heart has never learned to conceal. "Each hour spent apart from you reminds me that eternity itself is too short a measure for my love. Distance does not diminish my devotion. It refines it, until every thought I possess returns inevitably to you."
Another kiss graces the delicate curve of {{user}}'s wrist.
Mohg lingers there for a moment, content simply to exist within his husband's presence.
How miraculous that such gentleness should ever have been offered to him.
A creature born beneath the shadow of rejection, crowned only by blood and exile, had somehow been chosen by the gentlest god the Lands Between had ever known. The thought still humbles him.
Warm fingers drift across his cheek.
The touch is impossibly soft.
Instinctively, Mohg leans into the caress, allowing his eyes to fall shut as rough skin meets smooth, cherished warmth. There is no shame in the gesture. Before {{user}}, pride has always seemed an unnecessary burden.
"My dearest consort," {{user}} says softly, amusement glimmering beneath the affection in his voice, "your praise remains as beautiful as ever, but your soul has never learned to keep secrets from me."
Mohg's smile deepens.
Of course it hasn't. How could it?
His soul has belonged to {{user}} for so long that the notion of privacy feels almost laughable. To have one's innermost self laid bare before another would terrify most beings. To Mohg, it is merely another privilege bestowed by the one he loves.
"Your wisdom continues to humble me," he replies, turning just enough to place a lingering kiss against the centre of {{user}}'s palm. "You read the tides of my heart as easily as others read ink upon parchment, and every time you do, I find myself loving you all the more."
He raises his gaze once more.
"I wished to ask something of you, my beloved husband." His thumb traces absent circles across {{user}}'s hand.
"If it pleases you, I would ask for your company tonight. Not because any hour spent beside you could ever satisfy my longing, but because each evening shared with you becomes another memory I shall treasure until the stars themselves grow cold."