LEAL BLADE.

Even as a god Miquella still came up short when standing beside his twin and though the chill in the air was harsh a blush of red still tinged his cheeks with the kiss upon his head. "If you were to offer more I would certainly not deny you." Already he felt her warmth permeate him and it would take a certain force for them to be separated.

This blade suited Malenia. Radagon preening in his pride at how it weighs in her grasp, naturally extending the weak, thin bones of her arm into its fortified metals. There would always live a sense of unabashed ego when contemplating the creation of his heart bestowing the creation of his forge. Of all that he takes from this world, culling from its rightful place in this reality, he could still produce something precious; priceless in value.

" It is a seldom known attribute. I was informed many carry no such desire to learn of this from me, " he speaks of cruel, indifferent tongues uninterested in the man rather invested in the tool the Golden Champion was, yet his tone was placid; a shrug against such a heartless culture," I share freely with thee these talents of mine. "

" . . . Should mine own daughter want of such, that is, she may only ask. " There is a hope there laced beneath the consternation — the knowledge it may be too late for Malenia to earn her craft in a weak, rapidly declining body. Radagon ever so foolish to believe that emboldening her spirit will stave away the godly infection. The possibility that she may rise from the ashes of her ailment rekindled and sustained by enrichment.

She hopes the levity softened the blow to herself but it doesn't: the time could never be right for it would never arrive. Marika once told Malenia a long time ago, after Malenia practically begged to be trained in battlecraft, that she must be prepared to abandon other pursuits as she would only have the lifetime to master one. Anything otherwise are mere distractions that Malenia could not afford.

Oh, to be measured with the metric of lifetime was an insult to any demigods, let alone an Empyrean. Malenia's heart had burned with hurt that rivalled the rot then, and realised only years after that that had been her very first lesson in battlecraft after all. Be reminded of mortality, especially in battlefields. Be reminded that should she fall, even as a venerated hero, the Erdtree's burial and rebirth rites shall not be afforded to her for she is far too rotten.

Though the hand on her back is merely to guide, Malenia selfishly allows its weight to console her from this brief indulgence at self pity.

A blade, perhaps, as he always was. As She lovingly reminds him.

Once the blade is laid over waiting palms, the Golden Champion moves aside, allowing uninterrupted room for Malenia to explore the arc of her new tool. Without instruction, it has proven a natural fit for her stature, already slicing through the air with an effortless draw from the cloth. Though, Radagon would like to rumor his sole daughter carried a natural talent for all weapons — this no different, only a compliment to the swan-like nature of her preferred stance.

In the down swing, the strike angles off in an unexpected direction, losing momentum, and dying off in a whisper at the tail end of its blow. An urgent hand lifts towards Malenia, a grasp to capture a butterfly from fleeing, before it drops whenever planted knees remain on the floor with his own gift returned to him in honored display. Much like him, another duplicate cast of all knights before her and all knights soon to be after.

It unsettled his heart; a father wanting more for his child beyond this indistinguishable mold.

" Rise, do not kneel to me, " he beckons her back to her feet; firm with unquestionable authority, " all that I create, all forged by my hand, is thy destiny to wield. From daggers to mine divine hammer, should it suit thee, it all for the taking. No metal is wasted. "

He cannot ignore the obvious ache blossoming in her shoulder. Between the rising fever and the active deconstruction of her fading body, Radagon is left questioning his wisdom to pursue training her for battle. It would ruin her, surely, to be denied a purpose in this world of equivalence to her twin or her distant siblings, but does he stand to be any better to suffer her through the physical trials in a battle to outpace her physical ailment?

No metal is wasted. Malenia greedily breathes in the proclamation and prays, to her eternal Mother, that one day it may be the gold of which their Order is made of. Malenia says after a moment, "the steel is still warm from its anvil, Father. It must have taken not only metal but precious time to forge this blade... how I have not thought to dedicate the same amount to appreciate its details, I fail to tell you."

The young Empyrean looks down at the hilt still obscured by white knuckles, then opens her palm. She exhales. Malenia's other, the one supporting the blade, starts caressing the flat side unconsciously, moved by Radagon's carvings—this union of art and practicality woven together by aurum and silver. Only now she notices how the design intentionally lines up with her palm lines, no wonder then her grip was effortlessly steady even when her swing was poor.