Maidenless No Longer (Elden Ring)

Chapter 4: Millicent

A/N: Here we are with Millicent. Another major side girl for sure. She's more important than even SHE knows~

But first, angst. All the angst. Being Millicent is suffering after all. Until the Tarnished and his Plan come along.

-x-X-x-

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.