Tonr

This impacted dear Miquella so very much. He had seen such vile, ugly treacherous things, after all. He vaguely remembered a brother he, now realized, hadn't seen in millennia; he remembered the arguments between his parents, he was aware of half-siblings he cared little for. He had seen Malenia wilt away like a flower in fall and the way the Rot ate her body. He had seen anger and cruelty and apathy and grief in the reflection of every root on his family tree. But it was Radahn who was merely, simply, beautifully kind.

Radahn had a laugh that could shake the heavens and focused with an intensity Miquella could only dream of emulating. Radahn knew who he was and seemed sure of his path. He tended to the stables with a quiet, knowing smile and a peace in his eyes Miquella had yet to see anywhere else. He was not cruel to his soldiers, he honored them. Sure, Radahn could be stubborn and bloodthirsty; but never did the god forget he was, at first, kind. Miquella hoped to be like him one day. And on the days Malenia could not move from her bed for the pain was too great, it was not their father who helped her, but Radahn. And on the days Miquella wept at his reflection because it showed his eternal stasis, it was Radahn who reminded him that the body was merely a vessel, and did not truly represent your capability. That Miquella was more than his curse, and mirrors had a rather bad habit of lying. That last fact had made the boy smile, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

He loves very intensely, it is not for the weak hearted. It is not for the holy or the righteous. It is a vile, warped thing, his devotion. He will kill whatever ails you without a second thought. He will scourge the lands that don't worship you enough. His hands will tremble with reverence as they graze your skin.

It is not instant, his love. He loves slowly. He is afraid. He does not want to be forsaken again or misused. He will court you carelessly, at first. He will treat it as beneath him for a time. When the serpent within him is stilled and at peace in your presence, it is then his love becomes an obsession. You make the endless battle a trivial thing.

And he fears abandonment. He will grab you a little too harshly if he fears you leaving. He will guard your chambers zealously. He never outright forbids you from leaving, but it is an unspoken thing, tangible in the air. Sometimes, he will lament, while looking out at the endless fields of the shadow cursed lands, not finding you sooner. This talk worries you, because it inevitably leads into what he'd do for you. And what he'd do to spite the world if it ever separated you both.

I swear he's harder than Malenia and Maliketh

I think the duality of this character is so interesting. On a surface level, he's probably somewhat of a neglectful father. He loves his children, but he loves his Order more. The first time Miquella offers him a gift, a discus of light, he feels a flicker of pride, ruffles his hair, and then continues with his crusades. Everything else is merely a quiet chord lost amongst the symphony of his love for The Golden Order.

Marika he loves dearly as well. His other half. The extension of his very being. He loves her golden hair and eyes of gold, he'd spend hours admiring the light catching on her lashes. Memorizing the feel of her shoulder beneath his palm.

And yet he'd notice her pulling away as time went on, lost in the depths of her mind. He worried at first, thinking about Renalla. Perhaps he was cursed, just as his children, to always watch his loved ones crumble around him or because of him. He takes to the Golden Order even harder. The grace of gold will solve this. There will be a reason for all of this suffering. All the while, he doesn't notice Miquella pulling away, and he chooses to ignore the slow rot of Malenia's body. He does not think of Mohg or Morgott once. When his firstborn dies, something in him dies with them. Marika feels the grief even greater. He remains unshaken in his faith, however.

Miquella, Miquella. Big fan of him sacrificing everything. Do you think he hesitated. For a second he faltered when he divulged St. Trina from his body. He held her precious face in his hands and remembered he loved her so very much. Even Jesus had weak moments on the cross; it's only human that Miquella had his doubts as well.

And how devastating it must have been for St. Trina. Oh I think I am going to be ill. Her love never wavered. After all, she was his heart. His humanity. Even when she was abandoned, she still loved him quietly. Paitently. Praying he'd find peace at the end of your blade.