Griffith's Relationships (4)
The White Hawk. The White Phoenix. The King of Falconia. The Savior. Femto. The Blessed King of Longing. Once, the greatest mortal to ever wield a sword. The bane of the Black Swordsman. The most beautiful man alive. Him with a stature nothing short of pure magnificence. You know him. You love to hate him. I’m talking about one of the greatest characters not just in manga, but in all of fiction: Griffith.
Griffith is one of many examples of how masterful Kentaro Miura was with a pen, be it pressing against a notebook or a panel. An incredibly written character, as complex as they can come, with some of the most complicated, deep, and tragic relationships I’ve ever seen put to any form of media.
Today, I’ll be discussing what is inarguably a core tenet of Berserk: Griffith’s relationships. With two exceptions, there is no dispute that Griffith’s relationships are not the singular most important part of the media he resides in, there is no debate over whether or not they are still crucial parts of understanding both Guts’ disposition, and the world of Berserk itself. Griffith’s different approaches to interacting with those in his vicinity warps the very world itself, and his whims shape the very nature of the conflicts the protagonist engages in.
Here, we will be discussing Griffith’s most important relationships through Berserk, how they shaped him, and what they explain about who he is and how he got to where he is now.
Part 1: The Boy, and The Hawks
Part 2: The Governor.
Part 3: The King.
Part 4: Charlotte.
Part 5: The Wings of the Hawk (1)
Part 6: The Wings of the Hawk (2)
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Part 4: Princess Charlotte
Her mother died in her youth, and her newer mother attempted to kill her soul. Charlotte was never like the rest of the nobility with which her father surrounded her. Much more amicable, approachable, not nearly so haughty. She did not hold the same values as those in her space, values which could not nearly be called virtues. The demand for “respect” almost on-par with worship. The despicable bigotry towards any who was not born as lucky as them. Their wanton cruelty, their near bloodlust, their willingness to jump to all sorts of evil acts in some sort of asinine chest-puffing to defend their supposed honor- none of this was Charlotte. Her father called her shy. But she simply had no want to get to know further those around her, those who she had already understood far too well to be comfortable.
And then, one day, there is a new man in the court. One who had very quickly gained her father’s favor, enough to be their assigned guard for the annual hunt, yet another frivolous activity that was bloodshed for bloodshed’s sake, to satiate the itch for violence that all the men around her possessed. She was forced to go, of course. But she would not involve herself. Yet, the new man in the court, Griffith, involved himself with her.
He was softer, more compassionate, than the gaudiness that usually clung to her. He was gentle, like a breeze, and the wind passed through his lips like music, especially as he showed her how to whistle through a leaf he gently plucked from a nearby tree. They talked, not dancing through the formalities that she normally must, but as equals, him not talking to her, but with her, frankly and insightfully, giving her a conversation she had not had with any, especially of his stature, in a long, long time, if ever at all. And then, her horse took off, scared by the prey of the hunt. And who was it but Griffith, the gentle, beautiful man she had gotten to know, that would rescue her runaway and herself. As he assisted her, guarding her, almost, from further harm, she saw his beauty in its fullest. And then, sprouting from that beauty like a thorn from a rose, was the shaft of an arrowhead, directly from his chest.
He was fine, of course, saved by luck, or perhaps fate, but it only cemented to Charlotte that this Griffith fellow was different than the other men she dealt with. He had risked his life for her, she thought. None of the sniveling shady cowardice with false bravado that she dealt with so much. And this was no fluke, no falsehood on Griffith’s end to try to get into her good graces. How could it be? One night, after a dinner party hosted by the princess herself, the two of them begin to have a deep discussion. Charlotte is almost honored, enraptured by his boldness and confidence, while being touched deeply with Griffith’s willingness to be honest, transparent with her, to communicate with her on an equal level, to open himself so fully and completely to her that there would be no question about who he could truly be.
He proved, sure, that he could indeed earn his stripes in the world of men, and play along with their little games, by taking Doldrey. But upon his return, he still remained as gallant as ever. The ball her father held in their honor was nice and all, but she simply wanted the opportunity to be with him again. An opportunity that, unfortunately, she would not get, due to Griffith being poisoned at the ball. Or so she thought. He had nearly died, the entire court thought, but once again, as if by a miracle, the White Hawk was lifted from death by those on high.
She was overjoyed. But unfortunately, since his arrival, he had not been able to meet with her. To return her the trinket that she had gifted him, almost forcing destiny to allow the two to link once again. But one day, almost forced by fate, deep in a storm that was ravaging the area, Griffith appeared in her window, like a flash of lightning, nature itself deigning his arrival. After some hesitation, finally, Charlotte allows him in, and then, after a bit more, she finally gives in to the desire she’s held for Griffith ever since they first met. The two of them, passionately, make love. Charlotte’s first, being entrusted to Griffith, a commoner by blood, but a noble through work, and her lover through trust. She falls asleep, and when she wakes… he is gone.
Word spreads, and she uncovers that Griffith was being tortured, captured by her father for simply embracing the love she held for him. And she cannot abide by this. In fact, after the attempted assault on her by her “father”, she could not care less what his whims and wishes were. The love of her life would no longer sit chained in the dark if she could so help it. She assists the Hawks in organizing his rescue,.even participating and preventing their capture. She sees how broken Griffith is by what he had gone through, and yet, swears that she will remain by his side if he cannot speak, cannot eat, cannot move, cannot breathe. Even if she cannot be with him, she will be his. And later on, when Griffith recovers through the whims of fate, she stands by her word. She helps in the war effort, and when Griffith finally gets his kingdom, through her, she remains by his side, attempting to make the kingdom better in ways her father could not manage, and that even she could not manage without Griffith’s guidance.
At least, that was how Charlotte felt.
To Griffith, once again, she was nothing but a stone on the path to his dream. His heart rested nowhere near Charlotte. He had no more care for her than he would any other particular resident of the lands he would soon be to rule. She was a life to value and protect, but nothing particularly special. She was not Guts. She would never be what Casca was. She was simply a means to an end, and, when tragedy struck him, she was a tool for him to vent out the damage he had received after what he took as the largest betrayal of his life. She was merely there for him to assert his warped perception that power, and control, and to grant them or take them away, to manipulate them, to use others, is to love. Griffith’s entire philosophy is dictated by his broken philosophy on the nature of how relationships function. And here, he is making love to Charlotte, but he does not LOVE Charlotte. He is merely using the sex as a means of re-asserting the power and control that he lost over another, the one person in his life that he may have truly loved. Guts.
Even after he succeeds in winning his kingdom, Griffith remains the same to Charlotte. Not actually more loving, or affectionate, or anything else. The same slight aloofness that he has carried, always. And that is how their relationship will always stay. Because Griffith got what he wanted from Charlotte. And Charlotte can long for more, or not, but she got exactly what she wanted from Griffith. Charlotte is another in the line of examples of people who unfortunately reaffirm his points of view. And that is the tragedy of their relationship: it was built in tragedy, but to no end; it was built from tragedy, but cannot crumble; it was caused by tragedy, and cannot end. The only person more toyed with by Griffith’s perspective than Charlotte, is Griffith himself.