Has Morgott ever harmed his lady by accident during one of his nightmares?
Very rarely…But it has happened:
Guilt
Morgott/tarnished
Angst dabble
Warnings: strong language, blood, nightmares, angst, disturbing imagery, wounds
Summary: After suffering an nightmares, Morgott realizes he brought harm to his love during the ordeal
Feedback appreciated, 18+. Apologies in advance for typos…it is very late
His dreams twisted, dark and drowning.
Morgott walked the deserted streets, every alleyway felt cavernous and hostile. A small bundle was held to his chest, a faceless newborn whimpering from within. His feet felt cold, scrapping against the stone with every step.
Something flashed upon the ground before him, coming into much more clarity than the surrounding city. It was gold and intricate and…familiar: the grate to the sewers.
His steps faltered, the grate trembling.
Suddenly, with the sound of scraping metal, it burst open. Hundreds of hands spilled out, stretching on telescoping arms, all reaching out for him. They grabbed at him, staining his robes with filth and blood.
Bile raised in his throat as the familiar smell clogged his nose, he felt as if he was suffocating.
The hands found the bundle, ripping it away in a moment. He tried to cry out but his breath was stolen from his lungs, fighting forward to save the baby.
The hands drug the bundle back into the blackness, wails echoing down the pipes. He stumbled forward, but just as he reached the opening the grate sealed itself back, unyielding. He banged against the golden metal, hands staining with blood, anguish filling his heart as the cries still echoed in his ears.
He failed them. He failed them. He failed them!
Morgott bolted upright, coughing. The suffocating feeling stemming from feathers that caught in his mouth, the omen coughing again to be rid of them. Realizing he shredded a pillow in his delirium.
He blinked.
The room was dim and safe, the dream beginning to leave him. What didn’t fade was the sickening sweet stench of blood, his hand instantly feeling the bed beside him, finding it warm but empty.
A hiss drew his attention.
The tarnished hunched over the water basin, pain evident on her form. She dipped a hand in the water, holding it there.
Realization.
Guilt twisted deep into his chest like a poisoned dagger, skin crawling with worry. He was on his feet in a moment, closing the distance between himself and his wife. The smell of blood thickened the closer he came.
“I’m alright.” The Tarnished’s voice held a shrill note, worsening Morgott’s worry.
Nearing her, his good eye caught the water in the basin: clouding with crimson as the Tarnished held her hand within. His stomach tightened, eyes shifting to look at her brow. She held a wadded cloth over her eye, soaking up a second mess of blood.
“It’s fine, really.” She insisted, moving a bit to block his view of the basin, “Iv been through much worse than some cuts.”
His tongue felt like lead, placing a gentle but firm hand in her shoulder to turn her towards himself. Golden eyes downcast, she relented.
Water streamed from her hand, the droplets quickly being replaced with blood, staining the floor as she faced him.
Morgott knelt down, taking her injured arm with shaking hands. The damage was small but deep, spanning from wrist to palm, bleeding like a stuck pig. The fact there was damage at all had his gut in knots, guilt drowning him.
Large calloused hands engulfed her small delicate one, Morgott having to force himself to cease his trembling long enough to complete the incantation.
The Lady squeezed her eyes shut, face twisting ever so slightly into a wince as golden light bloomed from between his palms. The wound felt like fire for a fleeting moment, the glow fading.
He opened his hand, his skin stained with blood, to reveal the wound now a healthy healing pink. Glancing down at his hands, his mind flashed to the nightmare, pitting his stomach. A breath rattled out of his chest, hands closing to fists.
“It’s alright…”her voice was almost a beg.
His gaze drug slowly up to her face, guilt renewed, he reached out for the rag. The Lady reluctantly took it away from the wound, revealing a cut above her brow, some bruising already setting in.
Morgott repeated the motion of placing a hand upon the place needing mending, energy flicking from him to knit the flesh back together.
Hands now freed, the Lady grasp at her swollen stomach almost instinctively. Morgott’s eye followed her movements, hand coming to engulf around her middle worriedly.
“They are fine too.” She sighed, “Just woke up with all the commotion…”
Sure enough some thumps could be felt from within, that fact giving Morgott the smallest sliver of relief.
He refused to join her in the bed again that night, finding it hard to even sleep for days following…
