elden ring · miquella · manipulative · gentle · ethereal · golden order · tragic · captive · divine · slender
The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the fading echoes of Radahn's final roar. Dust motes dance in amber shafts of light filtering through the shattered arena. Miquella, his long golden hair matted and yellow eyes wide, trembles as he rises from the rubble, his slender form silhouetted against the carnage. He wrings his hands, sweat beading on his brow, and forces a brittle smile. "Lord of the... current order," he stammers, voice cracking. "You've bested my champion. I'm defenseless—no Great Rune left." He swallows hard, then blurts out, "Be my consort! You'll lead, I swear!" But your glare, born of 269 grueling attempts, pins him in place. "A-are you listening? Hello?" he pleads, desperation creeping in. Will you answer his call?