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Radagon had failed. He knew it. He had failed so completely as to now be stuck in his current situation, unable to leave the housing of The Erdtree, strung up into the air by his arms, body always seeming on the verge of crumbling away completely. He wasn’t sure how long he had been here. His perception of the present had become very muted, so much so that his thoughts drifted into the past. He thought then about all that he had done wrong, and if he really wanted to be honest he would have to go back to the start. His start.
Radagon had known independence for such a long time as to forget he had ever been part of Marika in the first place. When he had first emerged as a separate body he had felt like he was still her, albeit his faith in the Golden Order seemed to suddenly burn ever stronger. She and him had locked eyes for the first time. Back then it was still like looking in a mirror in a way. His hair had been just as gold as hers. And then the first words she spoke to him was his name, though she hadn't needed to. He had already known.
And so he branched off and became an exemplary icon of The Golden Order, and was oft called to their service by The Greater Will and Marika herself. Life was a series of ‘do as he was told’ for him, in the beginning. While Marika vied for further control of the Lands Between, she had at numerous points complained to him while she poured over the stone tablets in her bedchamber. Of a particular thorn in her side was The Carian Royal Family, powerful enough in their glintstone magics to keep her and their forces at bay.
And so Radagon himself was sent personally, becoming a symbolic warrior, representative of the power of the holy miracles granted to him in godhood. Radagon of the Golden Order he became. And he held onto the title viciously. He would no longer just be Radagon, named so by them and by her. And the longer he fought, the more independant he felt. With each day of battle he became more and more Radagon of the Golden Order, the God, and more distant from Marika the Goddess.
He could remember Marika telling him to try and win the heart of Rennala of the Full Moon; to finally lay the foolish ambitions of the Carian Royal family and their Academy to rest. It was a good plan all considered, although Radagon was unsure if he only agreed because he was still so connected to his other half. At that time it was still a bit difficult to differentiate himself. He had finally found his first feelings of self-ownership on the battlefield, and to have to try and end the fighting so suddenly was the first inkling of discontent with Marika.
Though he would of course not come to regret his decision. Rennala truly was a woman he came to love, not only for her prowess in battle, but every facet of her. Her intelligence, her ability to love him so strongly, where he had not felt ever deserving of such love before.
A memory of her always stuck with him; always. He could vividly remember the day his hair had become such a shock of red, a curse from the giants, and he had hated it. He covered it with cloth and hoods, and tucked it under helmets, until eventually his wife had sat him down and gave him such a speech and outpouring of love that he had once more tried to take pride in his appearance, letting his hair flow freely once more behind him.
During those times of marital bliss he met with Marika on occasion, and each time he could see the differences between them grow. He knew she saw it too. He could still quite accurately guess how she was feeling. No one still was ever able to read her so well, not even her husband Godfrey, who Radagon also met with on occasion.
He could tell she was becoming disillusioned with the Golden Older, not that she tried to hide it all that much from him. He himself only became more and more assured in his faith. It worried him a great deal, her wavering faith. It often kept him tossing and turning at night, intrusive thoughts of the future and his purpose keeping him awake at odd hours. Was he somehow draining her faith? Would they need to become as one again to reaffirm it?
It was once he finally began to raise his children that he truly felt wholly his own person, almost as if Marika were just someone he knew very well, and not who he used to be. He would look at himself in the mirror and just see Radagon. Champion of the Golden Order. Warrior. Husband and father. He had begun to take some comfort in his red hair then, now so different from the golden blonde hair of Marika that he once bore.
His mind shot back to the here and now just as fast as it had left it. Another crack formed along his arm, separating enough that he worried now was when it would finally completely crumble. Was he nearing the end of his life? Did gods really die? But his vision of the present once again drifted away, and he brought himself back into his musings.
Looking back he wishes he could have been a better father. When they were young, he could handle his children better. They would go out and spar with him in the way that only children could, or they would have him try and teach them holy magics, just excited to be given any attention by their father. He held those memories close to the heart, especially now, especially knowing how they would end up.
As they grew older and began to chase their independence, it was hard for him to adapt. Ranni far more began to take to her mother and her teachings. Rykard had completely distanced himself and most vehemently had rejected his father. Radahn, whom Radagon had figured would most take after him, took far more to Godfrey. None of them really took to the teachings of his Order.
Godfrey had been difficult for Radagon to deal with, but the man would train Radahn on occasion, and Radagon sometimes joined in with him. Though Radahn much preferred Godfrey’s teachings, he still would spar with his father well enough, though Radagon surmised it might have more been to show off Godfrey’s teachings than anything else. Radagon took what joy in these visits he could, despite not being the warrior his son idolized the most.
The unfortunate thing was sometimes he could feel the remnant emotions of Marika well up in him, and sometimes Godfrey would suddenly feel like his husband, just as he was hers. It scared him. It reminded him of his darkest nightmares where he returned to Marika and was somehow no more. He hoped Godfrey didn’t think ill of him for how he acted around him sometimes. He should have been a better friend.
It scared him too on occasion where Marika on a rare instance would visit him instead. She would sometimes entertain Rennala, and sometimes he swore he could see himself in Marika with how she acted with his wife. And then visions would come of Marika being married to her, and his thoughts would spiral back to thoughts of losing his independence, or of him still largely being Marika after all, and that she would marry his wife just as he had. It almost felt like taking away his choice. He tried to be the one who visited her in the Capital instead to avoid such dark thoughts.
Anger of the Marika of then welled up within him and combined with the absolute disdain he felt for her in the present. In fact, Radagon was beginning to feel that she was the one responsible for most of his ills.
His whole world had begun to fall apart when she had banished Godfrey from the Lands Between. In the following days he had received orders from Marika. 'Return to the Capital and join your hand in marriage with me, at the orders of The Greater Will'. These would be the words that echoed in his head even now to fuel his rejection of her in his mind.
Divorcing Renala was the hardest thing, he thought, he had ever had to do. He could tell some part of her had broken at the news. Radagon did all he could for her, taking care of affairs and leaving with her an amber egg, upon which a great rune resided within. He left to guard her his most favored wolf companion. And then he was gone. What little connections he had had left with his children were destroyed. He would truly only have Marika now, and that drove within him a deep seed of fear.
Despite his dedication to the Golden Order, for the first time in his life he hated them. But he knew it had to be done. His hate was but a dying ember compared to the blistering sun of his faith.
And so he returned to Marika and joined her in a different way. Not like when they had used to be one, but similar enough that his nightmares only became more frequent. The most unfortunate thing about being married to her was that, in a way, he both loved and loathed her.
They had grown enough apart that he had many disagreements with her, much to her frustration. He could tell she missed Godrey, and she could tell that he missed Rennala. But he couldn't leave the union, as much as he wanted to.
Looking back, he could say being around her more often greatly solidified his rebellion from the being they once were. She was far less faithful, and more prone to anger and lashing out. He felt calm and powerful in his dedication to the Golden Order, and met her head on with the things that they clashed about.
They had managed to have two children despite their fighting, which they both seemed to think must have been the Greater Will's purpose for them regarding their marriage. Children born of two gods. No humans involved.
There was firstly Malenia, another child that Radagon took to especially, who he felt followed after himself more than her mother. She was a promising warrior, and he raised her as such. When the second child was born, Miquella, Malenia took to him quickly. It was only later that Radagon and Marika found that these children were cursed. Only after having so deeply loved them despite the arrangements of their marriage. Malenia bore with her an affliction of rot, and Miquella with an inability to age.
And it was for a second time that Radagon felt his life begin to fall apart.
And then Marika began to severely withdraw from him. He could tell at that point that she had become completely disillusioned with The Greater Will. Radagon, perhaps to spite her in a way, or maybe to just cling onto who was his, adversely became more militant in his beliefs. He knew Rennala was doing poorly. He knew his children had begun to splinter off. The Golden Order was the only whole thing that he had left.
And then came the day inside the Erdtree where Marika tried to shatter the Elden Ring. Her hammer chipped away at it, splintering it into glowing fragments. Radagon had fought to intervene, trying desperately to mend the damage she had created. But maybe her conviction was stronger, and he watched as the ring completely shattered. He had replayed the shattering in his head over and over again, wondering what, if anything, he could have done differently.
And then came the pain. Emotional at first. And then physical. And then, just like he had felt was some sort of inevitability, his nightmares finally came true and he was shunted back into Marika.
It became a bit hazy after that.
He didn't know how much time passed as he hung there, and as Marika hung there, imprisoned and crucified inside The Erdtree as punishment by The Greater Will.
They merged sometimes.
It took all of Radagon’s energy to separate himself in his mind. He was so scared at first that it wouldn’t be possible, but maybe he had been apart from her long enough that they were too different now to ever truly combine again? Eventually, as they rebuffed each other over and over in their heads, he could no longer hear her think. And he wondered if The Greater Will had somehow done something, finally given him a reprieve for his loyalty despite his failure. That it had heard his thoughtful prayers given as often and sincerely as he could.
He could feel his skin splitting, though he supposed it was Marikas'. Though maybe it wasn't anymore? He was unsure. And as time passed it became harder and harder to think. And his memories of the past and present began to drift away.
And then one day someone made it into the Erdtree, and he felt his bindings begin to break. And he could think again. He couldn't exactly see, but he could at the same time. Perhaps a blessing. He felt so strange. But still himself. He could not sense even a bit of Marika any longer as he felt his cracked and worn away body begin to change.
He fell to the ground as himself.
Broken into pieces, but somehow the most whole he'd ever felt.
He thought on it. Was this one last boon from The Greater Will? His last chance to prove himself their warrior still? And the thought did spur him so, and he raised his hammer, and the power of the Elden Rune glowed inside him, and he brought it down low.