Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

Pain. Suffering. Agony. Rot. Millicent’s entire existence is defined by these things. She, who is beset by a deep, incurable case of the Scarlet Rot, can only lay there and wait to die, wait for her suffering to end. Straggly red locks, coated with her sweat and other refuse, cover her face as she leans back against the wall. The Church of the Plague was the only place left for her, after her arm had to be done away with. The Rot had spread too far. She was… she was dying.
 
Perhaps it was for the best. She remembered… some things. But at the same time, not enough. She was fairly certain she had sisters. But she couldn’t remember their names or their faces. Still, she got the impression that they, all of them, were stronger than her. Heartier, than her. She was the weak one of the group. She was the one who had faltered and fallen and would be better off dead.
 
Her sisters had cast her aside, leaving her in this place. And maybe that was for the best as well. But it didn’t stop it from hurting. It didn’t stop Millicent’s heart from aching. Was she truly undeserving of life, of happiness? Was this truly all there was for her? Was she-
 
“KREEEEEE!”
 
Millicent flinches, as the screeching of the Pests at the entrance to the Church suddenly draws her attention. The sound of their weapons swinging and their projectiles firing fills the air, but she doesn’t move. If the Lesser Kindred of Rot who guarded the Church of the Plague wanted to kill her, they could have done so at any time since her arrival. Instead, they worshipped her… or rather, they worshipped the Scarlet Rot that writhed beneath her flesh.
 
A shudder runs through Millicent, the redhead feeling the Rot pressing into her, pulsing through her veins. It hurt… it hurt so much. The pain is mind-boggling, agonizing. She wished it would end, but at the same time, she’s too much of a coward to end it herself. She can only hope it won’t last much longer, but even that hope is a false one. Indeed, those who suffer from Scarlet Rot don’t die easily unless they are of a weak constitution, and even as the least among her sisters, Millicent is not THAT weak.
 
… Perhaps she should have kept the arm. Clearly, cutting it off had not been enough to cure her. While the Scarlet Rot had started in the arm, it had made its way into the rest of her body like a thief in the night before the limb could be cut from her. Now, she was both disease ridden AND down an arm, as… unfortunate as that was.
 
If she’d only kept it, perhaps the Scarlet Rot would have killed her faster. Perhaps she would have found sweet oblivion by now, instead of this half-life filled with torment and misery and pain. Perhaps-
 
Millicent flinches again. Not because of any noise that the Pests are making, no, she belatedly realizes, they’ve fallen silent. She flinches, torn from her thoughts, because there’s the crunch of a boot mere feet away from her. She realizes then WHY the Pests fell silent. Those Lesser Kindred of Rot who had taken up the duty of guarding her and the Church… had fallen in battle.
 
Breathing is difficult, for one such as her. Her lungs fill with less air than they would normally, and her weakened ribs rattle with every breath.
 
“Ah… ah…”
 
Slowly, with great effort, Millicent raises her head. As she does so, the arm she’s using to cradle herself has to tighten on her midsection, as a spasm of pure agony and pain rushes through her, even from just that slight movement. She can barely move… but she can at least look up and see who’s come for her. To end her perhaps, as he ended the Pests? Or to merely gaze upon the freak, the dying woman on her last legs. Either way, she feels compelled to try and warn him.
 
“Ngh… who… who’s there? Well, it matters not. If you are wise, you will leave, immediately. My flesh writhes with the Scarlet Rot. It is more than a simple disease; it is a curse. Not to be meddled with by m-man.”
 
Even with her head tilted back and her eyes up, she can barely see him through the fringe of her hair over her upper face. She doesn’t even have the strength to blow a powerful enough breath of air to get her hair out of her face either. She’s stuck gazing at an indistinct blur of a man… until he crouches down in front of her, and then drops to one knee to bring himself to her level.
 
Lowering her eyes, she’s able to take him in properly for the first time. Fully encased in armor, he cuts an imposing sight. Meanwhile, his lower face is covered in a mask. A smart move, especially in a rot-filled place like this. Keeping one’s mouth and nose covered is one of the better ways to prevent transmission, to avoid disease.
 
However, his eyes are quite visible… and Millicent is struck somewhat speechless by how kind they are. She can only blink in shock, as he reaches out to her with one of his gloved, armored hands, and brushes his thumb across her cheek. She hadn’t even realized she was crying, until he wipes away some of her tears. Not that they stop. She’s in so much pain… and even this kind man cannot help her.
 
Or so she thinks. Before she can once again entreat him to leave, lest the Rot take him too, he holds up his other hand, and in it there is a needle. Millicent furrows her brow at it, and watches as he holds it aloft, allowing the gold of it to glisten in the dim torchlight of the open-roofed Church ruins. He mimes poking himself with it, and then offers it to her.
 
“You ask that I stab myself with the needle? To… to what end?”
 
Her first thought is that he’s some sort of monstrous man, who might be looking for samples of the Scarlet Rot. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? They’re currently in the middle of Caelid. The entire region is covered in the Rot. It is EVERYWHERE. If he wanted Scarlet Rot, even Scarlet Rot that had grown and matured from within a living body… well, he was spoiled for choices, wasn’t he? So that couldn’t be it.
 
As well, he had such kind eyes… Millicent had long since stopped believing there was good in the world, at least for one so wretched as her. Or rather, she thought she had. As she lays there against the wall, staring at this man holding out this needle to her, she can’t help but feel something… something anticipatory.
 
Miming for her to stab herself with the needle again, the man turns his other hand into a fist, closing it tightly shut and clenching it. It doesn’t take long for Millicent to understand what he’s saying, or at least come up with an idea. But… surely not.
 
“To quell the Scarlet Rot?”
 
When he nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile hidden beneath his bandit mask, Millicent lets out a shuddering, incredulous breath of disbelief, one that causes fresh waves of pain to wash over her being.
 
“But… how?”
 
No. Asking how will take too long. Asking for an explanation, from this man who so far hasn’t said a word to her… will get her nowhere fast, save for in more pain, more agony. Can he even speak? Or is he perhaps holding his breath somehow, and that is why he does not talk? Either way, Millicent makes her decision right then and there.
 
“Never mind. I’ve decided that I would rather trust you than simply continuing to spoil from within.”
 
Slowly, she lifts up her remaining arm. The man places the gold needle into her palm. Her fingers close around it, shifting it until it’s grasped correctly. However, as she prepares to stick herself with it, just under the ribs where he’d pantomimed, Millicent can’t help it… she feels a little subconscious.
 
“Would you mind… averting your eyes for a moment?”
 
The masked man nods solemnly and turns away. Millicent bites her lower lip, pulling her sweat-soaked, blood-soaked shirt out of the way… and slides the gold needle into her flesh with surprising ease. Once she’s done, she fixes her shirt and lets out a shuddering breath.
 
“Well. That was easier than expected. But then, why do I feel so…”
 
Millicent blinks in shock, as she realizes that last breath of hers… it was downright easy. The pain is already receding. The Scarlet Rot no longer writhes. Her breathing has evened out and her body, for the first time in a long time, no longer seems to be wracked with searing agony with every move she makes. Almost unthinkingly, Millicent reaches up and brushes her red locks out from her eyes, so she can look up at the mysterious stranger who did this for her in wonder. As he turns back to regard her, the crinkles around his eyes make it clear he’s still smiling at her, seeming quite pleased with himself.
 
As well he should be. As far as Millicent knew, there was no cure for the Scarlet Rot. Not a case such as hers, that had progressed as far as it did. Blinking rapidly, Millicent opens her mouth… but doesn’t quite know what to say. And before she can figure it out, all of it hits her at once.
 
She was exhausted. She was more than exhausted. Pain… pain was an excellent way to keep one awake long after they would have preferred to sleep. Millicent hadn’t had a restful night in longer than she could remember. She hadn’t slept well for just as long, the pain and agony waking her up at any time for the slightest reason, no matter when or where she was.
 
The absence of that pain, the sudden quelling of that writhing agony in her veins… it is too much for her. Her body has been taxed for so very long, and so has her mind. Before she can say or do anything else, it all catches up to her, and Millicent’s eyes roll back in her head, as her body promptly shuts down on her, taking its first true healing rest in… who knew how long.
 
The last thing she sees before she passes out is that man’s kind eyes, still staring down at her, watching her with a fondness and affection that Millicent simply couldn’t explain. After all, who would care about a wretch like her? Who would love a weakling such as herself?
 
-x-X-x-
 
When she awakens next, Millicent is alone. Coming to, she breathes in deeply on instinct, flinching in anticipation of the pain from her rotting lungs. But there is no pain. There is no agony. As she slowly sits up, the red head marvels at just how good she feels. She’s still quite sore, but in comparison to her previous experience, this was… a million times better.
 
Amazed, Millicent slowly rises to her feet. How long had it been, since she felt like she had the strength to walk? Looking down at herself, it all comes back to her. The man and his needle. He’d done this to her. He’d done this FOR her. And she didn’t even know his name, nor why he had come to her. What was his purpose in this rotted land, that he’d specifically sought her out?
 
Moving her hand down to the tip of the needle still buried under her ribs, Millicent’s tongue traces out to lick at her chapped lips. An artifact such as this… why would he waste such a thing on someone like her? Rather, there had to be better options, right? She was nothing. She was nobody.
 
Except that wasn’t quite true, was it? Millicent’s hand moves from her side to her forehead, and she groans for a moment as flashes of memory, of… of destiny pulse in her head. It aches, but even this sort of ache is nothing compared to the previous agony she’d been in. She feels wonderful, no matter her circumstances.
 
But she wanted… she needed to find that man. She needed to thank him. And more than that, she needed to leave this place behind. The Church of the Plague had been where she’d come to die, and now… now she thought she just might live. Quickly, she uses her one hand to pull her hair back, and though it’s a bit tricky to do so while missing an arm, she manages to get her red locks up in a ponytail.
 
Stumbling out of the ruined Church, Millicent isn’t quite sure where she’s going, but something draws her in one direction, and so that is where she heads. Making her way down off the mountain, she eventually finds herself drawn to a shack of all things… and there, she finds her man waiting for her, a smile on his masked face, apparent by his creased eyes.
 
Millicent can’t help herself. She smiles too, a broad, toothy smile that stretches from ear to ear as she regards her mysterious, handsome stranger. Not that she can say for certain he’s handsome… but she likes to imagine he is, on the inside if not on the out.
 
“I’d hoped to see you again. M-My apologies for fainting before I could even thank you. It’s just as you told me. The needle… it worked. I may not understand it, but the Scarlet Rot has ceased to writhe. Even… even the nightmares abated. I slept like a babe.”
 
Letting out a low breath that doesn’t so much as twinge her lungs or ribs, Millicent… laughs. She laughs a carefree, shocked laugh and marvels at how that doesn’t hurt either.
 
“And now… though I can scarcely believe it myself, I can move as I please. It is all thanks to you, you know? You have saved me.”
 
And then, because she feels like she needs to do something, and had been thinking about it since she first started making her way out of the Church, Millicent reaches down to her side and pulls out the last remnant of home she has left, the last heirloom her sisters let her keep, the last remnant of her connection to them.
 
“There is no way I could ever truly repay you… but I would like you to have this, by way of thanks. A mere trifle it might be, but it would mean the world to me if you were to take it. A token of my appreciation.”
 
Holding out the heirloom, Millicent realizes she’s rambling, just a bit. Her, rambling. Heh, how long has it been since she could just talk without having to measure her words? How long has it been since she could speak without pain in her chest, rattling in her lungs, shaking in her ribs?
 
As her savior takes the heirloom and gives her a simple nod and another eye-smile, Millicent hesitates for a moment. She wants… she wants nothing more than to ask to go with him. But she knows she isn’t worthy. Not yet anyways. And besides… the longer she can think clearly, the more her destiny calls to her.
 
“I… I’m considering leaving. On a journey. With the needle buried in my flesh, I’ve started to recall, however dimly… my destiny.”
 
Swallowing thickly, Millicent gazes upon her savior, half-hoping he’ll stop her, half-hoping he’ll demand she stay with him, as recompense. But a knowing, understanding look in his eyes tells her that he knows she’s right. That they must part ways for now. It hurts… but it must be done. Still.
 
“My name is Millicent. I pray fate permits us meet again.”
 
Stepping forward, the mysterious, silent man places a hand on her shoulder and nods in agreement. And then, he turns and leaves her there, continuing on his way. She watches him go for all of a moment, before continuing on HER way as well. Everything has changed, in just one short day. She knows not how much that man had to sacrifice to get this needle, knows not the cost of helping her, but she knows one thing for sure.
 
It's up to her to make it all worth it. Up to her, to earn this grace and mercy.

-x-X-x-

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