I’ll Say It With My Full Chest: Bertholdt Is Equally As Complex—if Not More—as Any Other Character

I’ll say it with my full chest: Bertholdt is equally as complex—if not more—as any other character in AoT and people only see him as ‘boring’ or ‘just there’ because he is quiet.

In a show full of natural born leaders, those who act without hesitation, who speak their minds loudly and impassioned, it’s easy for a quiet character to be seen as unimportant. But this couldn’t be further from the truth.

Bertholdt’s quiet demeanor is not to be mistaken with simplicity—to me, he is a textbook overthinker, riddled with conflicting thoughts, growing fears, and guilt that remains firmly planted in his mind, taking root there and growing out of control.

As someone who is quiet and meek by nature, it’s not surprising that Bertholdt grows into this nervous, indecisive person—he’s been a warrior since he was a child, an immense weight placed on his shoulders, the burden of being someone able to cause mass destruction with ease.

He’s been used as a weapon, constantly told what to do by others; he can master any skill better than most others, but lacks the power to do anything with those skills until he’s told.

He knows that if he is obedient, if he does what he is told is right, that he will be able to save his sick father, become an honorary Marleyan, and have some semblance of peace and safety. To him, at this point, he can be someone who defeats evil if he stays on the right path.

But, this becomes less simple as Bertholdt becomes wracked with guilt as he grows more and more aware of the truths of the world and the war he’s been forced to fight in; one that is not against evil, but driven by fear and hate.

We see it from one of his first ever interactions—when he uses the hanged man’s story as his own cover story when he speaks to Eren and Armin for the first time. Sure, he was trying to blend in, but he could’ve just as easily made something up.

That story had actually been weighing heavily on him, when he reveals that he’d been having recurring nightmares about it and asks Reiner in private why that man would bother telling that story just to later hang himself.

The thought is brushed aside rather quickly, but this gives us a look into Bertholdt’s mind and personality; someone battling inner turmoil, someone who contemplates what it means to have agency over life and death, someone who grapples with guilt.

He likely believed that the man wanted to be judged for his actions, to feel the weight of his guilt, before taking his own life; just as Bertholdt already felt the guilt of his actions in destroying Shiganshina and subconsciously was likely seeking out judgment and consequence. His sleeping position even matches The Hanged Man tarot card.

Later, we see Bertholdt’s guilt, emotions, and inactions reach a boiling point that compromises the warriors’ mission. He lets Armin use his feelings toward Annie as leverage to distract him, and he has a breakdown as he confesses to his friends in the Scouts that he hates what he’s done, that he genuinely does consider them friends, and that he wants to pay for what he’s done.

He knows that it was because of him that Eren ended up getting away, that he’d be the reason that Reiner and Annie would continue being in danger in Paradis, their mission now prolonged—his guilt only continues to build.

Moments before the return to Shiganshina, Zeke and Reiner had both told him that he needs to begin acting on his own, Reiner even going so far as to call him unreliable.

As someone who relies on the people he cares about and seeks direction from them, hearing that his own friends and comrades actually doubt his abilities and reliability would shake him to his core.

This interaction surely made him steel himself, made him push down his emotions, made him act. It made him put on a mask of apathy toward the Scouts, his friends, and nihilism toward the world around him, and play a role.

(Not to mention, Bertholdt has now seen Reiner—this person who was seen as weak, who was never even meant to be a warrior in the first place—grow into an actionable leader, and I can only imagine that would make his own self-doubts grow.)

I think when he transformed into the Colossal, part of him also genuinely did want it all to end, there, no matter the consequences. Reiner was too injured at that point to be the leader; it was his one, final chance to prove himself, to show that he is capable of doing something.

And I believe, too, that he was a terrified kid who just wanted the fighting to end—knowing that if it didn’t happen there, it would happen eventually, after more and more death and destruction.

He knows these people, his so-called enemies aren’t devils, aren’t evil, and don’t deserve death simply for being born on the opposite side of a war, but they have to die to prevent further bloodshed and catastrophe.

He knows the world is a cruel place, and there’s no changing it. He’s one of the first people to acknowledge that both sides are just doing what they think is the right thing, and if that’s the case, then the “right thing” ceases to exist. There are no devils; there are simply two sides and the hatred that fuels them.

There was no other way out this time—he couldn’t crumble under the weight of his guilt and risk compromising their mission again, for the sake of Reiner, for the sake of Annie, for the sake of his father, for the sake of everyone. He’d already done that before, and he couldn’t do it again—his true nature, to him, was nothing but a weakness.

He’d been fighting for his whole life, had seen and done unimaginable things that tormented him, had learned truths about the world that shattered what he’d been taught since childhood, and he knew that one way or another, things were going to play out in a horrific, gruesome way.

And at that moment, he accepted it because he had no other choice.

You could see his behavior in his last moments as true apathy—but I don’t. I see it as a terrified, exhausted, guilt-riddled kid living in a painfully cruel world, wanting to make it all stop and knowing that a peaceful outcome was never going to happen, that the cycles of hatred never cease.

I see it as him putting on a metaphorical armor to push past his own fears, guilts, and powerlessness.

And in his death, you see him return to his true self, his true nature—a timid, scared, lost and lonely boy, reaching out for the help of his friends…