Leda was confused. She didn't know what had happened or how she had ended up here. The last thing she remembered was her battle against that Tarnished… and her defeat. Then, only darkness. A deep void, until a voice called out to her.
"I'm… so lonely… please… someone…"
That heartbreaking echo tore her from her lethargy. She recognized that voice. It belonged to her lord, her reason for existing.
With all her strength, she tried to reach it, clinging to her unyielding will. And then, she felt an unknown energy pulling her out of that abyss. In an instant, she appeared in foreign lands.
Every muscle ached, her bones weighed like lead, and her head burned, but none of that mattered. Her duty was the only thing that had meaning. Even in her state of extreme weakness, her fingers found the hilt of her sword, the faithful companion that had traveled with her to this farthest corner of the world. She did not walk—she crawled, guided by the distant echo of her lord.
She did not know how long she moved forward. Reason would have told her to rest, to regain her strength before continuing, but she did not. Her only obsession was to press on. The landscape around her was alien, strange, even unnatural, but none of that would stop her. No matter where she was, she would save her beloved Miquella… even if it cost her life.
Day and night, with barely any rest and feeding on whatever little she could find, her iron will sustained her. Over time, the weakness of her body lessened, but the lack of rest still exacted a heavy toll. Even so, she continued… until she finally arrived.
By then, her feet moved on inertia and her vision was blurred. But when she witnessed what was happening before her, all the energy she no longer had burst forth with her fury.
Her lord, her sweet Miquella, on his knees, about to be profaned…
Her entire world turned red. She saw no men, only beasts unworthy of breathing the same air as her god. Sadly, in her current state, she could not grant them a fate worse than death. She could only give them the one punishment her sword allowed.
One by one, she slaughtered them. First, those who had dared lay hands on him. Then, all the others. She was not at her best, but the massacre ended far too quickly. By the time the last body fell, the overload of her own power claimed her.
She didn't even have the chance to see the face she longed for. Everything went black once more.
In her mind, she accepted her fate. She had fulfilled her mission. If she was to vanish into the void now, she would do so happily. But it was not so.
Hours later, she felt the weight of her body again. She was not dead.
Through the haze of her consciousness, she perceived something: a soft humming, a simple yet hypnotic melody. And then, a warm sensation… delicate hands caressing her hair, combing it with tenderness.
She felt safe, protected, like a child cradled by her mother. As if she had awoken in paradise.
If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake.
In time, Leda slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was her lord, gazing at her with that gentle, maternal expression while humming softly. For an instant, she thought she was still dreaming. There could be no happier moment in her life. But as the image grew sharper, she realized it was not a dream.
Her helmet had been removed and lay upon the grass, her head resting on Miquella's small lap, while he continued stroking her hair tenderly.
The impact of reality struck her like thunder. Leda immediately sat up, but dizziness hit her, threatening to make her collapse again. Even so, she forced her body to move and knelt firmly before her lord.
"Needle Knight Leda presents herself before Your Majesty," she declared in the most serious and respectful tone her weakened state allowed.
Miquella looked at her sweetly and shook his head softly.
"You didn't need to rise so suddenly, you still haven't recovered," he said kindly. "You have a fever… Don't you want to rest a little longer? I don't want anything to happen to you. You may remain upon my lap a while more, if you wish."
Leda froze completely.
There was something different in Miquella's voice. Not the sound itself, but the tone, the way he spoke. There was a nuance, a closeness she had never felt before. She lifted her gaze and met his eyes: still kind, but in a new way, in a manner that disarmed all the seriousness she tried to uphold. Her heart pounded with an unfamiliar force.
"No, my lord… I am fine," she answered nervously. "Thank you for your kindness."
As she spoke, a strange sensation settled in her chest. The Miquella before her seemed to have lost a trace of his majesty… but in return, had gained a closeness that made her feel vulnerable.
"Good…" Miquella whispered.
He rose gracefully and stepped toward Leda.
She tensed, anxiety seizing her body. But before she could react, Miquella leaned over her and wrapped her in an unexpected embrace.
Leda was petrified.
"I'm so happy you're here… I'm no longer alone."
His voice broke into a whisper, and small tears rolled down his cheeks.
Leda's heart seemed to stop. For an instant, her mind went blank. Then, almost by instinct, her arms moved and returned the embrace. She didn't know what was happening, where she was, or what had occurred, but at that moment none of it mattered.
The only thing that held meaning in this life, and in any other, was to serve Miquella.
And to make sure he never felt alone again.
Never again.
The knight and her lord remained locked in that embrace for long minutes. When they finally parted, Leda saw Miquella's face stained with tears. Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
Then, she looked at the corpses scattered across the ground.
Her rage flared like a fire fed with oil. If there was still hatred within her, it multiplied to unimaginable levels.
They had made him cry… and if they were still alive, she would have made them wish otherwise.
Miquella sat atop one of the corpses, his gaze fixed on Leda. He studied her calmly, as if examining every detail of her existence in this world.
"Do you know where we are?" he asked in a serene voice.
"No, my lord… I'm sorry," she replied, her voice tinged with sorrow as she realized that Miquella didn't seem to know this place either. "The last thing I remember was trying to stop the advance of one of the Erdtree's servants… and failing… failing him…" Her expression darkened, her chest heavy with guilt. "Then… everything was darkness, until I heard your voice. I followed it and… I appeared in the middle of a field."
Miquella murmured thoughtfully as he toyed with his ring, his gaze distant.
"I'm so sorry, my lord… I failed you… You couldn't reach divinity because of me." Leda fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.
She understood what had happened: her lord's plans had failed because of that wretch. She could no longer feel the radiant power of Miquella, and now both of them were stranded in an unfamiliar land. In her mind, her failure meant that Miquella had lost his power, that he had been cast out of his world. All… because of her.
"Stand up. It was not your fault," he ordered firmly.
Leda obeyed at once, lifting her eyes to him. His gaze held no anger, no reproach, and that only made the guilt within her hurt all the more.
"If I had just… you and Lord Radahn…" (Leda)
"Silence!" Miquella's voice thundered like a storm.
Leda flinched and fell silent immediately.
"Just…" Miquella pressed a hand to his temple, exhaling in frustration. "Just don't mention Radahn. I don't want to remember him…"
There was something in his tone, in the way he spoke that name, that was different. It wasn't simply rejection; it was disgust, a deep repulsion that seemed to have taken root in his very being. And in a sense, it was—because of the two wills that made up the current Miquella, one desired Radahn as a consort, while the other, with different inclinations, despised him and rejected the idea entirely—so much so that this latter side prevailed in that regard.
"Yes, my lord," she responded quickly, noticing his displeasure.
"Listen… it wasn't your fault. It was mine." (Miq.)
Leda's eyes widened in surprise, about to protest, but he continued before she could.
"Truly. I was a fool. I made terrible choices, whether you believe it or not. The path I chose was doomed from the start… it would only have led me to lose everything. And Radahn… Radahn was never the right choice." (Miq.)
Leda struggled to process his words. She had always followed Miquella with the certainty that her lord knew the destiny he was heading toward, that everything he did had purpose. And now he said he had been wrong? That his plans had been in vain? But… she was nothing but his knight. If the gentle Miquella said so, then she could only accept it… though her faith remained unshaken.
"I am fortunate…" she murmured suddenly, with a smile.
"Why do you say that?" he asked, intrigued.
"Though it's hard to believe, you say you failed… that the path was wrong," her eyes gleamed with fervor. "But now we are here. I am alive to serve you again, to witness you choosing the right path. I've been granted a second chance to see you rise as the true god."
Miquella observed her in silence for a moment.
"Mmm… perhaps…" he muttered without conviction. "But even if I tried, I'm not sure I wouldn't choose the wrong path again." He lifted his gaze to the sky, indifferent.
"You will not. You are Miquella the Kind. You will not fail." (Leda)
"Even so… I don't know if I want to pursue that goal anymore." (Miq.)
"W-what?" Leda faltered, bewildered.
"To be a god… is that what I want?" He raised a hand and closed his fingers in the air, as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Is that truly my destiny?"
"I… I don't understand, my lord," admitted Leda, genuinely confused. She strained to comprehend, but his words slipped through her thoughts without taking form.
"This is not our world. These are not the Lands Between, nor the Shadow Lands… none of it. This place is entirely different, alien to everything that once governed us." (Miq.)
Leda looked around and had to accept that he was right. Throughout their journey, she had noticed subtle but undeniable differences. Though she couldn't fully confirm it, she felt it was true.
"I am no longer Miquella the Kind. I am no longer an Empyrean, nor a god… I am simply Miquella. And in this world… I have no reason to pursue divinity. I do not need it." He paused, as if doubting his own words. "The only thing I want is…" he murmured, as though the thought was only just forming within him. "To be… happy?"
"If that is your wish, my lord, then I…" Leda straightened with determination, ready to receive his command.
"Leda." (Miq.)
"Yes, my lord," she responded immediately, standing firm.
Miquella looked her directly in the eyes.
"You no longer need to be my knight." (Miq.)
"W-what?!" Leda exclaimed, feeling as though the entire world was collapsing beneath her feet.
"The Golden Order no longer exists, nor the Erdtree, nor the Haligtree. There are no Outer Gods left fighting over the possession of our world… or at least I hope so. Now I have no fixed purpose, there are so many possibilities…" Miquella paused, his gaze resting on Leda with a strange tenderness. "And the same goes for you, my former knight. You have the right to choose your own path, to do whatever you wish in this new world. This is your second chance." He smiled softly as his fingers brushed over his ring. "Go and live your life…"
Leda reacted immediately. "No, my lord." Her voice was firm, almost desperate. "Please, do not cast me aside."
"I am not." Miquella shook his head and placed a hand upon her armor. "I'm only saying that now you can choose a different path, just as I can."
"My only path has always been to follow you, to help you fulfill your destiny." Leda held his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I know that, even if you doubt it now or refuse to see it, you will go far—farther than anyone else. You will become the god this world needs. Whether here or elsewhere, you will bring happiness… my happiness. And I will spill every last drop of my blood to help you achieve it."
Miquella sighed, his expression softening. Slowly, he raised a hand to Leda's face, cupping it with gentleness.
"Leda… I am no longer who I once was." His voice was barely a whisper. "I no longer possess the power I once held. I am no different from a normal child… weak, defenseless."
"I do not care." Leda closed her eyes for a moment, as if etching that touch into her memory. "Precisely for that reason, it is my duty to remain by your side. I must protect you until you regain your strength, and then serve you as I always have." Her voice quivered slightly, but her conviction was unshakable.
Miquella watched her silently. Then, with his usual sweetness, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.
A shiver ran down Leda's body. It was… disconcerting. Yet she tried to remain firm, though her mind wavered between confusion and devotion.
Her unease only deepened when she saw Miquella kneel and begin rifling through the corpses around them.
"W-what are you doing, my lord?" she asked hesitantly.
"Looting…" he replied matter-of-factly, pulling some coins from a corpse's clothing and examining them with curiosity. A faint smile lit his face.
"My lord, you cannot do that!" Leda exclaimed in shock.
"We need money." Miquella shrugged, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "We have nothing in this land. They're dead already; I see no harm in taking what they left behind."
"That is not…" Leda turned her gaze aside, a pang striking her chest. "You should not… you must not soil your hands with such things."
"But we need whatever we can gather until we're settled." His tone was calm, almost innocent, though unintentionally so.
At last, Leda grasped Miquella's hand, pulling him away from the corpse.
"Then allow me to do it."
Without another word, she knelt and began to search the bodies, her hands trembling from exhaustion.
Miquella watched her in silence, his face serene, impassive. Yet in his mind, thoughts swirled endlessly. About her. About himself. About everything that had changed.
When Leda was done, she hadn't gathered much, though she couldn't truly tell—she didn't know the value of the local currency. She was about to show Miquella what she had, but was taken aback when he simply took her hand and led her out of the forest, paying no attention to the money she now carried.
As they walked, Miquella spoke with excitement about everything he had discovered about this place: its history, its peculiarities… The almost childlike wonder in his voice contrasted with Leda's expression, which grew darker by the minute. Though she had not yet recovered, fury still boiled in her blood, urging her to turn back and cleave off more heads. Yet when she saw her lord behaving like an excited child as he guided her toward their refuge, she could think of nothing else.
Miquella planned for them both to rest before continuing their journey. The night before, as he slept, strange fragments had surfaced in his mind…
Rhudaur… Rhudaur… Rhudaur… Cardolan… Arthedain… Angmar… Trolls, Snow Trolls, Hill Trolls, Thrall Masters… THE WITCH-KING!!!
He could not call it a vision, nor even a clear memory, but those words echoed in his head. They were familiar. Names he knew well… belonging to a video game he had once played in his former life, particularly its second expansion.
Miquella wasn't sure if his thoughts held any meaning. Was he truly in the world he believed? It would be easy enough to confirm: just ask a few questions, verify a few names. But that could wait. First, they needed rest. Leda could barely stand, and without her at full strength, venturing out was far too risky.
When they entered Brea's house, Miquella was caught off guard by a sudden embrace. Brea clung to him with such desperation that she failed to notice Leda, her eyes seeing only him.
"My little one! How dare you run off? You had me so worried… I thought I'd lost you," she cried, pressing his head to her chest. "Never leave without telling me again. It's dangerous out there… only mommy can keep you safe."
Miquella remained still, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the genuine concern flowing from her. Yet the moment shifted suddenly.
Still holding him, Brea's hand slid downward toward his most private places, trying to repeat her earlier actions. Perhaps a show of dominance, yet the attempt never reached its end.
A hot spray splattered across Miquella's face.
Blinking in confusion, he felt something heavy slump against him. Looking up, he saw Brea choking on blood, her mouth open in a strangled gasp. His gaze fell lower—there was the tip of a sword protruding through her chest.
"Filthy whore… how dare you even think of touching my lord?" Leda spat in fury, twisting the blade inside the woman's body.
Brea's scream of pain was brief. Death came instantly.
Her body hit the ground with a dull thud. Miquella, his face stained with blood, looked down at her without expression. Leda, breathing heavily, her eyes still aflame with rage, stood ready for another strike.
"Leda… you killed Brea," Miquella said calmly.
"I am sorry, my lord… but she wanted to…" Leda clenched her fists, still seething, then dropped to her knees in guilt. "I could not allow it. Punish me as you see fit."
Miquella sighed for the woman of perverse inclinations who had cared for him.
"It's fine… Just, don't kill indiscriminately unless it is necessary. You could cause us trouble."
Leda lowered her head, saying nothing.
"There's food in the house. Gather whatever valuables you can as well. We'll eat and rest today. Tomorrow we'll ask around… and if my suspicions are correct, we'll leave."
"As you command, my lord," Leda replied firmly.
Without another word, Miquella took Brea's clothes and wiped the blood from his face, his gaze void of expression.