Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

The Passion of Marika

Miquella's heart pounded and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he followed Godwyn towards the Queen's Bedchamber. He kept asking Godwyn, who was with Malenia the whole time, "Is she better now?"

Tricia, who was with them, replied, "She did very well. She was asleep the whole way through, so didn't feel any pain."

Miquella was elated to hear his sleep spell was of some use, and his imagination began to run wild. He thought of the other issues that Tricia had brought up during their long conversations and what he learned during his readings. There was the issue of the rot contaminating bandages, which caused reinfection. The wrapping and rewrapping of injuries took a significant amount of the perfumer's time and was the main reason why Malenia's "bad days" often turned into weeks. There had to be something the rot could not contaminate that could also be used to treat Malenia's wounds.

Miquella looked at Tricia, who paused and began to shake.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Okay. You should come. I'm sure mother would want to thank you."

"I-I um... don't think so."

"It's alright, Miquella. Today was the first time Tricia had ever met a goddess. It's a bit overwhelming."

Marika was as far beyond demigods as demigods were beyond mortals. And for Marika to appear suddenly, unannounced, as Tricia was already exhausted from the lengthy surgery, was overwhelming. She had barely grasped what was happening when Marika asked her if she was finished. Thunderstruck, Tricia croaked out a barely audible "yes." Marika then glided past her, looked at Malenia, and perhaps said something (though Tricia wasn't sure), before leaving with the unconscious child in her arms. Tricia couldn't even describe the goddess if she wanted to. She could have even sworn it was a man she was talking to, as silly as that was.

Something was terrifying enough about the encounter that Tricia had decided she didn't wish to see the goddess again and asked to be excused.

When they arrived at the threshold of the bed chamber, Miquella paused and looked up at his brother as he now was the uncertain one.

Marika sat on the stone bed with a scroll on her lap and her eyes closed as though in a deep, contemplative thought. Her mind drifted to and from a certain level of consciousness; first to being aware and then to an almost dream-like meditation where she saw revelations of the things both within and beyond the fog. Not even the wisest could say what it was within this matric; things that were, things that are, and things that were yet to come to pass all revealed themselves at once to her.

And yet, within the deep confines of her mind, there was a far more simple, and relatable aspect to Marika. Though she remained a practical stranger to Miquella, he had heard her laugh and seen her cry. There were things, more earthy things, that she enjoyed. She had an addiction to the written word and a hunger to absorb every shred of knowledge contained within their pages. And she remembered everything she read. Her entire bed chamber was stacked full of old stone tablets and numerous scrolls. Once, she went into a rage when she requested a particular text and what was presented was a piece translated into the common tongue. A goddess who knew all languages, couldn't be bothered with translations that often lost their meaning.

Godwyn greeted her first with a bow.

"Mother? I brought Miquella as you asked," he said. He approached Marika and placed a kiss on her cheek before he beckoned Miquella to come.

While Miquella saw his mother almost every day, in intimate settings such as this, it was rare.

"It's okay, darling. You may enter," said Marika. Her voice sounded cold and detached. Almost like she had requested a small trinket, but wasn't entirely focused on it.