Chapter Text
Miquella had never doubted the perfect teachings imparted to him.
The first time air flowed into his lungs and light shone into his eyes, he felt warmth. Golden warmth in the shape of bright shining leaves, floating down and disappearing before they reached the ground, as if they were welcoming his birth. With golden hair and fair features that closely resembled his mother’s, perhaps, in a different kind of life, he would’ve been her chosen successor. A sharp, intuitive mind, Miquella came into the world quietly without a cry. His eyes, gold and bright, peered into his mother’s cold face outlined by the hue of the tree high above her. If he’d been born into a mortal family then maybe they would find his lack of sound unnerving before throwing him into the sewers to perish. But, in the end, he’d been born of Marika the Eternal, whose name rings throughout the lands in different manners both in love and hate.
There would be only a handful of moments in his life where Miquella could gaze into his mother’s eyes and this one was the first. He’d found no shred of emotion in them and until the end, no shred of emotion would ever come to her eyes.
His mother was like a holy deity, shifting throughout the halls of their home gracefully. She looked unreal and she’d never once embraced Miquella as a son nor even an acquaintance. He was akin to decorative furniture that she felt indifference at. Still, while she was no mother, Miquella had stood in awe of her brilliance as god, as a vessel for the Elden Ring. The power she held and the rule she established shone brightly just like the leaves of the Erdtree. And he was not truly alone, not even during his birth. With bright red hair like their father, his twin sister stood beside him throughout their childhood, clinging to him as he did her. The gentle voice who whispers from the back of his mind never truly left him alone either, always soothing him and casting invisible charms that helped him sleep peacefully.
He had love, whispering soothing lullabies inside him. Oftentimes in his dreams, he would find himself sitting down in the midst of a beautiful flower field, a young girl sitting next to him while their hands intertwine between them. They wouldn’t talk but he could feel her emotions mimicking his own. They were different and yet they were one and the same. And perhaps because of her. Because of Trina and what she’s holding on for him, he would look at souls abandoned by the Erdtree with pity.
But could he really help them when he was imperfect?
It did not take long for him to realize that there was something wrong with him. With his body. He could not see it in himself, at first, but he saw it in Malenia. The disease that clung to her fragile skin was incurable and it singed with pain constantly. It started small, against small parts of the skin of her arms or legs, and then it dug deep inside the young girl, scarring her from within. When they were younger, he would wake to the sound of her muffled screams of pain but as time moved, Malenia would silence the sound of her pain even as the rot robbed her of her body. As they grew older, Miquella soon noticed it within himself as well, the curse, the defect. His body never moved past his youth, always weak and fragile like a newborn child. As Malenia grew taller, bigger, older, Miquella remained stuck. His mind would continue to grow like a trapped vine, pushing against his skull while demanding space to grow. Space that no one could give.
So unlike his perfect parents whose hands poured brilliant shimmering gold. What poured out of his own small hands were stained with his curse. With both of their curses. Trina would attempt to sooth his doubts, her invisible embrace curling around his shoulders from behind like a mother comforting her child. Still, his doubts linger and fester. How could the child of a being so perfect be so…broken? This was their sickness. One that he needed to cure.
Realization of his illness did nothing but fuel the feeling he had for those the Erdtree abandoned and scorned. Their imperfections, their illness, it resembled his own. If he could cure himself then why not others? And maybe…maybe, if he helped them then they would be once again embraced by the gold. If not then he would embrace them.
All of them.