#milliefic

Xander regretted entering the dining room as soon as he’d exited the dumbwaiter. It stunk exactly like he imagined Dante’s seventh circle of hell would, all boiling blood and brimstone. He remembered a fiery accident he’d been called to once; one never forgot the smell of burning flesh. Xander steeled his resolve, much like he had that day, and forced himself to enter the dining room.

“My God,” was all he could manage to say as he stared at the scene before him.

There was – meat, meat everywhere in the dining room. Six… monsters? Humans? Could they still be called that? sat at a table, connected to one another with sinewy strands of flesh. They hummed and groaned, the sound of smacking lips echoing through the dining room as they feasted upon a mummy’s remains. 

A dog barked; Xander thought he had imagined the noise until one of those wretched fish-dogs, ruby red instead of the usual slate blue, lunged at him. He managed to raise his sword and block the beast’s bite at the last second, but the impact caused him to stagger backward, his shoulders hitting the wall and knocking the breath from his lungs. The fish-dog sprung at him again, its jaws snapping around the blade of his sword. Blood poured from its mouth; but this was no deterrent to the monster. 

I can’t die here, he thought. Millie’s soft, ever concerned face flashed before him. He could picture her, teary-eyed and bloodied, reaching for his corpse. If he died here, she would certainly come looking for him, and for her to witness such horrors – if she even made it that far – he couldn’t bear it. 

Xander pushed the blade further against the creature’s gaping maw, severing tendons, screaming with effort. His good leg managed to kick one of the beast’s legs out from under it. It fell, howling in pain, and Xander stabbed the horrid animal through the chin, up through its skull. His arm spasmed with the effort. “Go to hell!” he screamed, yanking his blade from the beast’s head. 

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here, now. Xander sheathed his sword and used his cane to stand, leaning against it in desperate search of relief for his bad hip. There – beyond the “party,” an elevator. Could it lead him to further horrors? Possibly. But nearly anything was better than staring at the scene before him.

He made it to the elevator and ascended. The Hightown air, though heavy with smog, felt so much more clean already. He gasped in desperate lungfuls, trying to avoid hyperventilating and making himself sicker.

Xander passed through a lounge and into a small vanity room, where one of the Countess’ mirrors awaited him. He stumbled to the mirror. His stomach churned violently – how long he’d be able to keep it at bay, he wasn’t sure. The squelching of flesh, the stench of gore and sulfur, the jerky writhing of those… things… 

He fell through the mirror, just barely managing to catch himself instead of landing face first in the dirt. He had jammed his wrists, though, and they shrieked in pain as he managed to stand and limp forward.

His ribs stung. An earlier scuffle with a constable had left his bones bruised, no doubt. In the moment before, he’d thought of Millie, too. Of how devastated she’d be if he didn’t return to her. Of how she’d fight Grezzo tooth and nail to try and find him. Of how he’d spend the rest of eternity begging for her forgiveness.

Millie was at the forefront of his mind now, as well. Xander smiled deliriously as he remembered the softness of her skin and the gentle scent of her perfume. The thought of her was the only thing keeping his body moving; he’d long since run out of physical energy. Millie, Millie, my dear little mouse... I’m coming home. 

At last, he made it to the mirror for the Emerald Eye. When he stepped through and nearly fell down the ladder, Millie was already waiting for him.

Xander could no longer stand. He collapsed before her, hugging her legs, burying his face in her soft stomach and sobbing like a child. Millie gasped, a soft, surprised oh! before she began to stroke his hair, coo gently. “Oh, Xander. It’s alright. I’m here. Here – let me hold you.” She pried him away for a moment so she could kneel and embrace him comfortably. 

Xander hid his face in her neck as he wailed. Millie held him tight, her body the one thing keeping him upright. His suitcase and cane sword had fallen by the wayside as soon as he saw her; his last bit of strength had been sapped. How Millie always managed to have enough strength for the both of them, he would never know.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered.

“No. Not now.”

“Okay.” Millie squeezed him tighter; he was grateful she wasn’t the type to prod. “It’s alright now. You’re safe, Xander. Shhh.” 

And he was. He never felt safer than when he was with Millie. Maybe she wasn’t physically strong, but her emotional fortitude and unconditional love was his bulwark, a willow tree shielding him from rain. He could spend all his days beneath her shade.

Millie pulled away so she could look him in the eye, caress his stubbled face. Even though his cheeks were peppered in prickly stubble, even though he certainly smelled of gunpowder and guts, she didn’t hesitate to touch him. Her stormy green eyes held no judgment, just love, and her touch was so tender his heart broke. How could he ever stand to be apart from her?

“Marry me,” he blurted.

Millie’s lips parted, then shut, and she smiled bashfully, as if she still didn’t quite believe he could love her. Oh, humble little mouse!  “What’s gotten into you?” she whispered, that smile still on her lips. “You must’ve been really scared by something.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grasping her small, soft hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’ll find you a ring somewhere. We’ll leave here together when this is said and done. I’ll make you the happiest woman there ever was, I promise, if only you’ll make me the happiest man.” 

Now his dear little mouse was tearful, but her tears were beautiful and earnest, like diamonds glittering on her lashes. “Oh, Xander… are you s–” she stopped herself, shook her head, then grinned at him. “Of course. Of course I’ll marry you.” Millie kissed him, sweet as ever, and Xander sank into her arms once more.

“Long day?” Millie asked as she took Xander’s coat.

“You have no idea,” he said, shaking out his auburn locks.

“Why don’t you come sit down for a bit?” Millie led her husband to the couch, where he flopped down. She sat beside him and took a moment to admire him. Despite the heavy bags under his eyes, he was still the most beautiful man alive.

He was still wearing his leather gloves. She gently lifted his hands, then removed his gloves and admired his bare fingers, strong wrist, calloused palms. Millie’s heart fluttered. These hands worked so hard for her – shouldn’t they feel loved?

Gingerly, she lifted his right hand to her lips and kissed each fingertip, then kissed his palm, before flipping his hand over and kissing his knuckles. Xander hummed appreciatively, his eyes lidded as he watched her. She did the same for his left hand. Millie pressed the top of his hand to her cheek.

His thumb brushed her lip, and Millie kissed it again. And again… Xander ran his thumb along her lower lip, pulling it down slightly. He slipped his hand from her grasp so he could thumb open her mouth and slide it onto her tongue.

It was second nature for Millie to suck on his fingers. Xander’s thumb played with her tongue, and her mind felt blank, like she was floating on her back in the ocean. Her little hands closed around his wrist.

“Good girl,” Xander purred. “I love you so much, little mouse…” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead as she mindlessly sucked on his thumb. “You always make me feel so loved.”

Her heart soared. Yes! Exactly! She kissed his knuckles, putting his hands together so she could kiss across all eight easily. “I love you, too. Master… Daddy…” Each name fell off her tongue like dewdrop from a leaf, easy, as if she was made just to say them. “Xander.” Her chest ached with adoration. If only he could reach inside her ribs, feel how her heart beat for him and him alone! She could imagine his fingers stroking the pounding muscle just as softly as they lay on her tongue.

It had been a week since Dr. Alexander Thane had arrived in Gloomwood, and he was no closer to treating the plague than he was when he first arrived.

He stood on a street corner, puzzling over the map in his hands. Some map! The cartographer should be whipped, he thought, crumpling it and stuffing it into his coat pocket. His cane, which he’d hung on his arm, nearly fell from the force. He took it and rapped it on the ground in annoyance. Well, there was a run-down church across the street; maybe the priest could help him find his way. With little else to do, Xander crossed and entered the church.

He found no priest, but instead a young lady sweeping the apse. She glanced up, looking much like a startled doe, with wide green eyes and cherubic chubby cheeks. The young lady wore a somewhat wrinkled white button-down shirt, a sage green skirt that fell below her knees, and weathered lace-up brown leather boots. A big green bow adorned her half-up bobbed brunette hair. She stared at him, then seemed to snap out of her reverie. “Oh! Um, welcome, mister.” She set her broom against a brick wall that had clearly seen better days. “Can I help you?”

“Just needed to sit for a bit, little lady,” he said, his cane hardly clicking on the rot-eaten wood floor. “I seem to have turned myself around.”

She gestured to a pew at the front of the sanctuary, and Xander sat down, his bad hip groaning with the effort. He’d be paying dearly for traipsing about the city tomorrow. How unfortunate that his current job amounted to a lot of traipsing about. “What’s your name?” he asked, leaning forward slightly to stretch his hips, putting his upper body weight on his cane. 

“Millicent Halloran, but you can just call me Millie,” she replied, sitting stiffly beside him, her hands folded politely in her lap. This close, Xander could see dirt caked into the fabric of her skirt. She must have noticed him examining her clothes, because she tucked more of her skirt under her legs. “I’m sorry, I’ve been cleaning all day and haven’t had a chance to wash up.”

“It’s just a sign of hard work, isn’t it?” He gave her a smile, and she smiled, albeit awkwardly, back. “I’m Doctor Alexander Thane.”

“Oh! My friend Grezzo said there was a doctor coming to help.” Millie nodded, more to herself than to him, it seemed. “You said you got turned around?”

“Yes, quite. I have several appointments today, and no idea where they are. Would you be able to help me? If you’re not busy, of course.”

She smiled, a small, bashful smile. “Um. I think I’m done for the day.” Millie paused, a sad, distant look overtaking her soft features. “The priest died awhile ago, so there’s no one to check my work.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you a religious man, Doctor?”

He shrugged. “I was raised Catholic, but I can’t remember the last time I went to Mass. My poor mother prays for my soul every day…” Xander sighed, thinking of his mother, kneeling and hunched over her rosary. It was near noon - maybe she was doing her lunchtime prayers now? Was she praying for him at this moment? “Are you religious, Miss Millie?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced sideways at him; Xander noticed her eyes flicker to his, then just above his, as she spoke. False eye contact, he noted; her fidgety hands and tapping foot told him what else he needed to know. “I hope… I hope I can be again. After all this.”

“Me too.”

—

After a long day of seeing patients, Xander took Millie to a nearby pub for dinner.

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” he asked, hoping his tone implied a wish to know her better, rather than creepiness. Millie was clearly an adult; he was trying to find a polite way to ask her why an adult was still living at an orphanage.

“Twenty-five,” she replied. She glanced at him, then past him, and then back at his face. Her eye contact around him had improved since he’d had her working with him over the past few days. He smiled, feeling a deep surge of pride. 

“I’m twenty-nine,” Xander offered in reply. “May I ask… did you have plans to move from the orphanage? And the plague nixed them?”

Millie’s face fell, and Xander winced. He’d hurt her feelings. “Um…” she poked at the pile of mysterious meat on her plate. The waiter had brought their meals without taking their orders – how rude! – but then again, he’d never even brought menus. “Not really,” she finally said. “I grew up there, and Mother Royse and the other nuns let me stay once I would have… aged out.” She added, quite hastily, “I help out. I do chores, clean the chapel. And I tended to Father Harold before he died. It’s not like I was a bum. I help out, I really do.” 

Xander’s nose twitched at the notion he’d implied she was a deadbeat; then, he noticed the pinkening of her cheeks, and realized she’d felt embarrassed by her continued living at the orphanage. “I apologize,” he said. “I was just curious, since I moved away from home fairly early.”

“It’s okay. I, um – it’s just… hard to talk about.” She shrugged. “The orphanage is all I’ve ever known. Father Harold and the nuns raised me.” Millie met his gaze and managed to hold it for a few moments longer than usual. “They’re basically my only family. The ones who are left, anyway…”

“No siblings?”

“No. Father Harold told me my parents came to Gloomwood as merchants right before I was born, and then died shortly after. I was an only child. And then, in the orphanage, I was the youngest, so I never really grew up around other kids.” Xander’s heart panged. How lonely an existence! Jonathan, his elder brother, could be a pain in the neck, but Xander couldn’t imagine life without him or their younger siblings. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Doctor Thane, please don’t pity me. I’ve never been good with people, so I would’ve been this way even if there had been kids my age around.” Millie gave him a gentle, easy smile, and once again looked directly at him for a moment. She was the one suffering, yet she made an effort to ensure his comfort?

“I see,” he said, mirroring her smile. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, with Xander staring at his food, before Millie spoke. “You should try the jellied crocodreel,” Millie said, pointing to the lump of meat on Xander’s plate.

“Crocodreel,” he repeated, trying not to allow disdain to bleed into his words. He knew what a crocodile was. He knew what an eel was. But… a combination of the creatures? What the hell was this city? “And it’s… jellied, you said?”

Millie nodded; she’d happily stuffed a portion of her own pile of mystery meat into her mouth. “Try it!”

Xander couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less. But because the girl insisting on him giving it a shot was his current medical assistant and pleasant company, and she’d bared part of her clearly painful history for him, he decided to humor her. It tasted like… meat. Nondescript meat. It could have been worse.

Millie beamed at him from across the table. Xander couldn’t help but smile back.

—

Doctor Thane had begun to teach Millie how to take vital signs so she could assist better in his work. He showed her how to work what he called a sphygmomanometer, which Millie wrote down the name of, so she could practice pronouncing it. He taught her how to count a pulse, and allowed her to borrow his watch so she could do so during examinations. He gave her her very own journal and pen, with heavy, fancy paper, so she could make notes as he assessed patients. He even showed her his prized jar of leeches, which, according to him, every self-respecting doctor should have on hand. 

Most excitingly, he allowed her to borrow his copy of a book called Gray’s Anatomy. Millie had once seen the hefty text in a book store; she’d asked the orphanage’s headmistress Mother Royse for a copy, but according to the headmistress, Millie’s birth sex precluded her from learning anything about science. The young lady had learned to sneak scientific texts into her room out of spite after that, but she never could find the first book to spark her curiosity on the matter.

Doctor Thane was explaining something about the bones and ligaments of the hand to her now, but Millie was hardly listening. She simply stared at him, awestruck by his passion and intelligence. His green eyes, always bright, seemed to burn like the sun when he spoke about medicine. She knew that this – saving lives – was what he was made for.

“So those –” Doctor Thane paused, taking Millie’s hand, “are what the extensors do.” He moved her index finger, curling it and uncurling it, demonstrating the way the extensors and tendons moved in tandem. His gloved finger glided over the top of her hand, tracing the ligaments, the deep blue veins prominently visible beneath her porcelain skin. With a sly smile, he asked, “Clear as mud?”

Millie’s face grew warm at his touch. “I… Yes, I think I understand.” She avoided looking at his all-too-handsome face. Hopefully he didn’t think her rude; eye contact was difficult. She used to be better at it, and she had started to get better with the doctor. When did it start to get hard again…? 

“It would be easier if I had a cadaver to show you.” Doctor Thane sighed, more to himself than her. “They burn the dead so quickly here – which is good for infection control, but bad for science.” He let go of her hand. “You’re not squeamish, are you?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose if we ever get our hands on a cadaver, we’ll find out.”

—

It had been three weeks since Millie had begun her work as Doctor Thane’s assistant. He gave her some of his salary from the Mercantile Council – far more than she deserved – and paid for her meals after a long day of work. In their time together, she’d learned so much from and about the man she now considered a friend. Further, she’d learned more about herself, like how she, at twenty-five, could still feel a giddy schoolgirl’s crush so deeply.

Doctor Thane had taken Millie into Hightown today. She felt horribly nervous; she had only been in this part of the city once, on an errand for Grezzo. The old merchant asked her to fetch an artifact from one of the city’s lords, and she had nearly gone back to him red-faced and empty-handed on account of the fact that the lord couldn’t believe a poor girl from the edge of the Sootworks was actually Grezzo’s aide. 

Lord Jamison had snorted when he saw Millie standing next to Doctor Thane on the doorstep. From Grezzo, Millie had heard that Lord Jamison was on the Mercantile Council, and was one to consistently throw his status as nobility around to get what he wanted. To be in his presence felt utterly suffocating.

But the man was sick, and doctors swore oaths to treat everyone. Not that Doctor Thane knew of Lord Jamison’s unpleasantness. Millie tried to look at the lord with fresh eyes; maybe he was better now? Maybe Grezzo had exaggerated?

Doctor Thane had Lord Jamison sit in the drawing room. While he took a history of the patient’s illness, Doctor Thane instructed Millie, “Take his temperature and blood pressure, please.”

Millie took the doctor’s suitcase and began setting his equipment out. When she approached Lord Jamison with the thermometer, stethoscope, and sphygmomanometer, he grumbled under his breath. Doctor Thane eyed the man, but his smile remained easy-going.

“I’ll need to place this cuff on your arm,” Millie said as clinically as possible. If she remained detached and simply did her job, Lord Jamison would have little reason to berate her. Still, she felt his cold eyes on her as she went to put the cuff on him. The lord didn’t move to help her in any way. Millie sighed to herself. If someone was really sick, she didn’t mind if they didn’t, or were unable to, help her. But when someone wasn’t all that ill, and decided to actively make her work harder? 

Millie forced the cuff under his arm, since Lord Jamison clearly wasn’t willing to simply lift his arm slightly. She secured it, then began to pump up the cuff, placing the end of the stethoscope in the crook of his arm, finding the thumping of his pulse. The brachial artery was what she was listening to, Doctor Thane had taught her. Despite Lord Jamison’s glowering, Millie’s heart swelled with pride at her learning. She made a note of the man’s blood pressure in her journal. 

Once the blood pressure reading was taken, Millie went to place the thermometer in Lord Jamison’s mouth. He scowled. “I can do it myself. I’m not a child.”

“I just wanted – it needs to be placed under your tongue, sir.”

“Sir? Sir?” The lord’s voice was pure venom. “What kind of unrefined street urchin are you? You will address me as ‘my lord’ or not at all!” Doctor Thane was already crossing the room at his tirade, but before he could interrupt, Lord Jamison snatched Millie’s wrist. “Look, there’s dirt on her clothes! Don’t tell me you grabbed the first cheap, eager little fice you found on the street to help you!” 

She felt tears begin to well in her eyes, and cursed herself for being such a crybaby. You can’t let him know he’s hurt you, Millie thought, willing herself to remain calm. She could cry later, but right now, she had to remain strong. Doctor Thane had a job to do, and she couldn’t humiliate him by being a blubbering mess.

Doctor Thane paused a few feet away, staring at the man. Though the smile remained on his lips, it was now full of malice; his eyes darkened with contempt, and his grip on his cane was tight. Millie had never seen him angry – no, furious. Doctor Thane drew himself up to his full height. While letting Lord Jamison squirm under his hate-filled gazed, Doctor Thane asked coolly, “Millie, would you please pack up our things? We’re done here.”

“I am ill, doctor, and in case you forgot, you work for the Mercantile Council! You work for me!”

“Seeing as you can speak to my assistant in such an impolite, derogatory manner,” Doctor Thane said icily, “it is my clinical assessment that you are healthy enough to wait for treatment. I have other, much sicker patients to see and triage.” He clicked his cane on the ground, the metal tip ringing against the wood. “Unless you apologize to my assistant for your frankly embarrassing behavior, we will be leaving now.”

Lord Jamison’s jaw clenched. He lifted his shirt, revealing a sprawling rash on his chest. 

Doctor Thane stared impassively, his arms crossed. “Yes, and?”

Millie backed up to stand behind the doctor. She’d seen plenty of men duking it out in the street, bashing each others’ brains against cobblestone and grinning victory through bloodied, tooth-gapped mouths. What she hadn’t seen was a verbal altercation like this. Was this how all rich men fought? 

Lord Jamison stared right back, unwilling to sacrifice his ego for treatment. Doctor Thane turned to Millie. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!”

The two turned to look at Lord Jamison. He was grumbling under his breath. “Fine. I apologize.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Doctor Thane simpered at the man. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?” he asked in his pleasant, lilting drawl. Even his snippiest voice sounded like warm honey! “Millie, are you alright with treating Lord Jamison?”

“Yes.” Admittedly, getting close to the man again felt like an impossible task – she was certainly going to bawl over his treatment of her later – but knowing Doctor Thane had her back made her feel a bit better. 

“Excellent. We’ll need to take a sample of his lesions.” He glanced at the lord with a smug little grin. “Depending on the results, a leech treatment may be in order. Don’t you agree, Millie?”

—

“I think today was productive,” Doctor Thane said, adjusting his top hat. Snow had begun to fall as he and Millie walked home one evening, forming a thin layer on the brim of his stylish hat. Millie briefly wondered how much it had cost him – his clothes were so fancy, like he would have brushed elbows with the lords of Gloomwood had he not been an outsider. “What do you think?”

Millie tried to ignore her shivering, but her chattering teeth betrayed her. “Y-y-yes. I ag-gree.” She hugged her arms tighter to her body. She was wearing a coat, but she always ran cold. 

“Oh, poor thing. Why are you wearing such a thin coat?”

“I w-was using m-m-mine to cover up the n-nuns. Th-they were f-f-freezing, even with the f-f-f-fire.” She glanced at him. “H-how are y-you not c-c-c-cold?!”

The doctor stopped in his tracks. “Millie,” he tsked, “you can’t care for others if you aren’t caring for yourself.” He unwrapped the blue scarf from his neck and set it down over Millie’s shoulders. He wrapped it around her neck twice, making sure it was pulled over her nose and mouth, and sitting comfortably under her ears.

And thank goodness for covering her face, because Millie was certain that despite the cold, her cheeks were burning red.

“There.” He patted her shoulders and smiled. “Better.”

“What about you…?” Millie asked. Her chill-induced stutter vanished with the scarf’s warmth. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I like the cold,” he replied. “Went hunting with my father and brothers too much not to.”

“You were a hunter?”

“Oh, not like the Huntsmen you have here. It was…” The doctor paused, seemingly weighing what he wanted to say. “Well, it was more of a sport for us. But we did eat what we killed.”

“Ah.” 

The orphanage’s chapel came into view far too quickly – Millie wanted to keep walking with her face in the good doctor’s scarf for as long as she could. Oh, well, she mused. At least she’d had this opportunity with him.

Doctor Thane opened the door for her, and Millie stepped inside, turned around, and started to unravel the scarf. 

The doctor stopped her. “Keep it for now. I have another just like it back in my room.” He smiled softly. “Besides, we’ll be out walking in the cold tomorrow, right? You’ll need it to keep warm.” 

“Oh.” Millie’s face warmed. “Um, thank you, Doctor Thane. Really.” She ran her fingers over the fabric, marvelling at its softness. She’d never held such a fancy piece of clothing – the doctor not only came from money, but he had plenty of his own to spend on such nice things. His cologne filled her senses, drifting off the scarf and filling her head with daydreams. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“See you tomorrow.”

He clasped his hands with a wide grin. “Take care, Miss Millie.”

Millie stepped inside the orphanage and watched him leave from the window. Her heartbeat finally slowed when he was out of view.

She pressed the scarf to her nose, drinking in the smell of his cologne. He’d given her the scarf so easily – her, a poor woman who made a paltry living dusting a run-down church. Maybe it was just because she had been shaking so violently, but… he cared about her. The thought made her head spin. 

I love him.

Millie felt warmth bloom in her chest at that. I love him, she thought again, and she laughed to herself, like a giddy schoolgirl realizing a crush. Doctor Thane, I love you!

She knew she was being silly, but Millie couldn’t help it. For the first time in years, she felt a true connection to someone. And at the very least, he cared about her.

Maybe, just maybe – she’d allow herself the fantasy – he loved her, too. 

—

“Ah, that’s not quite right…”

Xander frowned as he erased the lopsided circle. Normally, drawing after a long day of seeing patients was relaxing; tonight, however, Xander couldn’t seem to get his mind and hand to work in tandem. He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his auburn locks. Maybe I’m trying too hard, he mused. Thinking about it too much.

He started to sketch once more. The less he thought, the easier the movements came, and soon, a clear visage appeared under his pencil.

Millie…

He sketched in her hair, her round cheeks and soft jawline. Goodness, she was so pretty – he couldn’t help but grin as he doodled, like a schoolboy with a crush. Xander’s mind wandered. Millie had been faithfully assisting with his examinations, leading him from home to home, and overall being extremely pleasant company. 

It was also clear she had a crush on him as well, no matter how desperately she tried to hide it.

What a funny little mouse, he thought as he started another doodle. His hand moved of its own accord, and Millie once again materialized on the page. She was so easy to draw, all gentle curves and rounded features, like a porcelain doll brought to life.

As he continued sketching, he drew more of Millie, remembering every silly thing she’d done, every shy glance his way, every gaze she’d held, every kind word. He filled a spread with just her. When he stopped to admire his work, a deep, radiant warmth bloomed in his chest, like the sun shone between his ribs.

Oh…

A grin spread across his face. How’d he let himself become such a soft-hearted, lovesick fool? Not that he minded – not for Millie, anyway. 

—

Things were dire in Gloomwood.

The plague had continued to spread like wildfire; nothing Doctor Thane had done had cured a single patient. Despite remaining steadfast to his cause, Millie could see the endless suffering and lack of an answer was wearing on him. Heavy bags hung under his eyes like storm clouds, and a few strands of silvery hair had started to manifest at his temples. He hadn’t shaved in at least a few days, and while he was quite handsome that way, Millie knew he hadn’t had the energy or willpower to shave, and that broke her heart. 

He’d come to the orphanage’s door late in the night. Millie was the only one left; the sisters had all passed at once two evenings prior, and the city constables had scooped them up and burned them as soon as they heard, much to Doctor Thane’s chagrin. How the cops had managed to find out so quickly left a sour taste in Millie’s mouth. She hadn’t told anyone. In fact, she had been on the way out the door to alert Doctor Thane so he could dissect them when the constables arrived, snorting and beating their batons on the walls.

He sat in one of the beat-up upholstered chairs before the fire. The light of the flames danced along his auburn locks and cast deep shadows on his handsome face. Millie watched him from her place beside a window, admiring how beautiful he looked, even in such a haggard state.

“I’m leaving Gloomwood tonight,” he said. 

“What?” A hole opened up in her stomach. 

“I’ll be back,” Doctor Thane assured her. “I… I’m not capable of treating this plague alone. I’ve written hundreds of letters to my colleagues, and none have answered.” He glanced at the windows, and seeing the curtains were drawn tight, he relaxed some. “I have reason to think they’re not making it out of the city at all.”

“Doctor…” She paused. “I believe you. But I don’t know how you’re going to get out.” The constabulary had effectively shut the city down, imposing a strict curfew and restricting traffic into and out of Gloomwood. 

“I snuck past the coppers to get here, didn’t I?” He stood and crossed the room, stopping before Millie. Her face became hot as he took her hands and squeezed. “Don’t you worry, little mouse. I’ll sneak out and be back with help before you can blink.”

Little mouse? Millie wanted to melt into a puddle. She’d never been called such a sweet name before. She was sure the good doctor could feel the heat radiating off her face.

“Be safe,” she mumbled.

“I will. I’m more worried about you. You have enough food to hole up here for awhile, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Since she was the only one living at the orphanage, she didn’t have to worry about not having enough to eat.

“Good. Don’t leave, okay? If you can, keep the lights off, even during the day. Keep the curtains closed, and don’t answer the door if anyone comes knocking.” Though his expression was soft, his tone was deadly serious.

“I can answer if it’s you, right?” Millie wasn’t sure where this bold flash came from, but she both instantly regretted and was exhilarated by it.

“Please answer if it’s me.” He chuckled, a sly grin on his lips.

She forced a smile back at him. Though his departure was like a knife in her chest, she trusted he would come back to Gloomwood with help. Why wouldn’t he?

“I’ll miss you, Doctor.”

“Xander,” he said. “You can call me Xander.”

Oh, right. Millie had almost forgotten he had a real name, not just Doctor Thane. “I’ll miss you, Xander.”

—

“Doctor!” Millie dropped her knitting and ran across the room to hug him, then, remembering what he’d said before he left, she corrected herself. “Xander, I mean. I’m so glad to see you!” 

“Millie!” Grezzo scolded, “Get off him! The man’s had a hard day, he doesn’t need you hanging all over him like a circus monkey!” “It’s fine,” Doctor Thane – no, Xander – replied. 

Millie then remembered that hugging a man she wasn’t related to was improper, and let him go. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to be impolite, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, a true smile blossoming on his face. “I haven’t been hugged in a long time. It felt very nice.” He took Millie’s hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to it. “I’m happy to see you, too. My lady.” The last words he whispered into her skin; they were for her and her alone. “What are you doing here?”

Millie’s knees became mush and she had to fight to keep standing. His lady? Oh, only in her dreams! She forced herself out of her reverie to answer his question. “Remember my friend Grezzo? He invited me here, to keep safe.”

Grezzo coughed, and Millie flushed, pulling her hand back but still smiling shyly. “Oh, goodness, um, let me take your coat. Please, please. Sit down. Make yourself at home.”

When he handed her his coat, it took all of Millie’s strength not to bury her face in it. Despite his long trek through the city (and a faint fishy smell?), the scent of his cologne hung heavy on the fabric. She’d missed it so…

As Xander got settled, with Grezzo leading him to the upstairs room, Millie hung his coat and smoothed out the crinkles. If they had enough water, she’d wash his clothes, maybe encourage him to take a bath… for sure she’d cook him a nice, hot meal.

Look at you, Millie. Finally cooking for a man! She laughed to herself. She’d never once thought she’d be in love ever again, much less daydreaming of domestic bliss. Millie went to the kitchen and started to rifle through Grezzo’s cupboards. 

She’d always heard that the fastest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Maybe if she cooked up a good enough dinner, Xander would fall hopelessly in love with her, like she was with him.

—

Xander had returned early that night, much to Grezzo’s annoyance. The doctor had planned to get to the Underport that evening, but a scuffle with a gang of batbeasts had gone awry, causing him to retreat back to the Emerald Eye. 

Millie took him upstairs to clean him up. Xander sat rather broodily in a chair, clearly licking his wounds. He perked up, however, when Millie approached with a basin of clean water and a washcloth. Or was she imagining things?

“This might sting. Sorry,” Millie said, lightly dabbing at Xander’s cheek with the wet cloth. He winced but admirably stayed as still as he could. He cast a glance at Millie, and grinned when she caught his gaze. Millie felt her face growing warm. Damn him, and his unfathomably handsome face… Looking at him had started to become difficult again. Could he see what a fool she was for him? Certainly, considering how her face always seemed to become beet red around him these days. Millie cursed herself for wearing her emotions so openly.

The doctor placed a hand over hers as she cleaned the wound again, and Millie gasped softly. She tried to pull her hand back, but Xander curled his fingers over hers. “Xander…?” 

He chuckled, his bright green eyes lidded. “You really are going to make me beg, aren’t you?” 

“Huh?” Millie blinked. His dark, hooded eyes, his low, rumbling drawl of voice… was he…? “Are you… flirting with me?”

Xander stared at her, dumbfounded, then laughed. “I have been since we first met. But thank you for finally noticing.”

“Oh.” Millie squeezed the water from the cloth and stared into the basin – anything to avoid looking at him. 

“Hey. Look here, mousey.” He reached up to caress her cheek, force her to look into those impossibly green eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, or actively reciprocate. Just know… I’m really quite fond of you.”

“I, um… I do reciprocate. A lot.” The fancy-sounding word felt heavy on her tongue. Reciprocate: to feel the same way. 

He feels the same way I do!

He smirked devilishly. “I know.”

“Then why’d you say that!”

“To get exactly that reaction. You’re predictable, little mousey.”

Millie glared at him, but his bright, relaxed smile shattered any annoyance she might have had at him. “Does this mean, um… we’re together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“More than anything,” she confessed, the words tumbling from her like an avalanche. 

“Then I’m yours, and you’re mine.” Xander stood, clasping her little hands in his large, warm ones. “You’re the one good thing left in this city, Millie. And I’ll be damned if I lose you now that I have you.”

“I think today was productive,” Doctor Thane said, adjusting his top hat. Snow had begun to fall as he and Millie walked home, forming a thin layer on the brim of his stylish hat. Millie briefly wondered how much it had cost him – his clothes were so fancy, like he would have brushed elbows with the lords of Gloomwood had he not been an outsider. “What do you think?”

Millie tried to ignore her shivering, but her chattering teeth betrayed her. “Y-y-yes. I ag-gree.” She hugged her arms tighter to her body. She was wearing a coat, but she always ran cold.

“Oh, poor thing. Why are you wearing such a thin coat?”

“I w-was using m-m-mine to cover up M-Mother Royse. Sh-she was freezing, even with the f-f-f-fire.” She glanced at him. “H-how are y-you not c-c-c-cold?!”

The doctor stopped in his tracks. “Millie,” he tsked. “You can’t care for your Sisters if you aren’t caring for yourself.” He unwrapped the blue scarf from his neck and set it down over Millie’s shoulders. He wrapped it around her neck twice, making sure it was pulled over her nose and mouth, and sitting comfortably under her ears.

And thank goodness for covering her face, because Millie was certain that despite the cold, her cheeks were bright red.

“There.” He patted her shoulders and smiled. “Better.”

“What about you…?” Millie asked. Her chill-induced stutter vanished with the scarf’s warmth.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I like the cold,” he replied. “Went hunting with my father and brothers too much not to.”

“You were a hunter?”

“Oh, not like the Huntsmen you have here. It was…” The doctor paused, seemingly weighing what he wanted to say. “Well, it was more of a sport for us. But we did eat what we killed.”

“Ah.”

The chapel came into view far too quickly – Millie wanted to keep walking with her face in the good doctor’s scarf for as long as she could. Oh, well, she mused. At least she’d had this opportunity with him.

Doctor Thane opened the door for her, and Millie stepped inside, turned around, and started to unravel the scarf.

The doctor stopped her. “Keep it for now. I have another just like it back in my room.” He smiled softly. “Besides, we’ll be out walking in the cold tomorrow, right? You’ll need it to keep warm.”

“Oh.” Millie’s face warmed. “Um, thank you, Doctor Thane. Really.” She ran her fingers over the fabric, marvelling at its softness. She’d never held such a fancy piece of clothing – she’d done some maid work when training at Lord Marwyn’s, but his clothes were older, faded. The doctor was not only from money, but he had plenty of his own to spend on such nice things. His cologne filled her senses, drifting off the scarf and filling her head with dreams.

“See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

He clasped his hands with a wide grin. “Take care, Millie.”

Millie stepped inside the chapel and watched him leave from the window. Her heartbeat finally slowed when he was out of view.

She pressed the scarf to her nose, drinking in the smell of his cologne. He’d given her the scarf so easily – her, a poor acolyte of a dying church. Maybe it was just because she had been shaking so violently, but… he cared about her. The thought made her head spin.

I love him.

Millie felt warmth bloom in her chest at that. I love him, she thought again, and she laughed to herself, like a giddy schoolgirl realizing a crush. Doctor Thane, I love you!

She knew she was being silly, but Millie couldn’t help it. For the first time in years, she felt a true connection to someone. And at the very least, he cared about her.

Millie’s father, Grezzo, had been asleep for thirty minutes. He was snoring now; hopefully, that meant he wouldn’t be getting up for water anytime soon. Millie stepped away from the door and adjusted her bonnet, pulling it back over her ear. As quietly as possible, she tiptoed down the stairs. 

She opened the door to the Emerald Eye carefully. Lucky for her, Grezzo kept the hinges well-oiled, so it made not a sound as she stepped outside onto the terrace. The night was dead silent. Millie shuddered. Before the plague, she had always been able to hear something going on at night – a rowdy group of young drunk men on the street, the wind howling through the alleyways, skittering mice under discarded wooden boards. Now, the silence was utterly suffocating.

Her bootheels clicked on the pavement as she hurried toward the old Vetran Chapel. The revolver she’d snuck from behind the register felt heavy in her coat pocket. Millie paused to listen closely; she could hear no creatures moving around. She sighed in relief. Although she’d taken the gun for self defense, she barely knew how to use it. She prayed she wouldn’t need to figure out how to on the fly.

Millie tried to focus on her mission. Mother Royse had kept extensive logs of the Sisters’ history as well as books describing the Old Kingdom. The prioress had once told stories of the Old Kingdom to the youngest sisters, warning them not to play with things they couldn’t understand. Mari and Liesel had dismissed Mother Royse’s stories as the ramblings of an old woman, but Millie had always had the sense that the prioress knew something. How bittersweet, to be proven right, she thought. 

The Chapel of Vetra came into view, and Millie’s heart sank. Even from this far away, she could tell that the windows had been shattered. She quickened her pace, keeping an ear out for any bat-creatures or Huntsmen. Please, please, don’t let them have taken what I need!

The front door was ajar, and Millie crept inside. The old wooden door groaned, as if it was crying out in pain. Millie stood in the entrance of the Chapel for a moment, surveying the damage.

Pews had been shoved aside or flipped, and the stained glass windows had been shattered. The altar had been torn apart; moonlight danced off of ceremonial dishes that had been smashed on the ground. The slate blue banner on the wall was shredded. Millie’s home, her life, had been ransacked.

Unwelcome tears burned on her lash line as she picked through the wreckage. I’m so sorry, she thought, clutching a hand over her heart. I’ve failed. I’ve failed all of you.

Despite the rubble in her path, Millie managed to find her way to the back of the chapel like she had one thousand times before. Muscle memory guided her through the door and down the hallway, past the kitchen and bathroom, until she found the door to the library.

Millie found the lighter in the cabinet next to the door and flicked it open. The tiny flame burst to life and she gasped at the scene before her.

I’m too late. 

Everything was destroyed. The journals and books that held decades of knowledge were nothing more than piles of soot. Her Sisters’ lives were ash.

Millie fell to the ground, managing to flick the lighter shut before burying her fingers in the grime. She couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked her body. She should’ve thought to take the books when she fled – I thought I’d have more time. I thought… Millie wiped her eyes on the back of her arm. The Sisters were the city’s greatest source of charity – feeding the poor, blessing the townspeople, making and mending clothes, doing whatever was needed or asked. Who would do this to them?

That damn bitch of a Countess!

She’ll pay for this!

Millie glanced up, scanning the shelves one last time. There, on the very top shelf, she could see something untouched. Millie hoisted herself up on the shelf and managed to snag the object. It was a tiny oak box; she unhooked the latch and opened it to find a few sheets of folded up paper. Setting the box down, Millie unfolded the papers to find… children’s drawings. Her, Mari, and Liesel’s drawings. Better days, she thought with a tiny smile. 

Had Mother Royse kept the doodles? Or was it one of the other sisters? She doubted it had been Mother Royse’s predecessor, Mother Angela – though maybe the old woman had had a soft spot after all…

Millie shook her head. I need to get moving. She tucked the drawings back into the box, then placed the box in her other, gunless coat pocket. She tiptoed through the chapel and managed to sneak back out onto the street.

In the dead silence, Millie became acutely aware of how loud her footfalls were. She tried to step softly, stealthily, but it seemed she was only making things worse. Just a little farther.

Somewhere in front of her, there were heavy footsteps. Millie tried not to panic, but fear gnawed at her heart. She ducked into a shadow and pulled the revolver from her pocket. Please, please, don’t make me use this.

She crept forward, her stomach tying itself in knots as she realized a group of Huntsmen was in her path. Millie swallowed hard. Maybe if she stayed in the shadows, they wouldn’t notice her? Besides, it was Xander they were looking for, not her. Millie leaned forward and tried to make herself as small as possible. 

Trash was strewn in her path. Millie stepped as carefully as she could, but glass and paper made stealth a tall order. 

A pile of glass crunched underfoot, and the Huntsmen whipped around. Harsh torchlight blinded Millie, who threw her arms in front of her face. Her grip tightened on the revolver. Don’t let this be a fight!

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” one of the Huntsmen drawled, slinking closer. Millie shrunk against the wall. Her hand was slick with sweat already; the revolver’s grip was hot in her hand. “What are you doing out and about, little girl?”

“I was just going home,” Millie said. Her voice quivered; she tried to stand taller, appear confident, even though her shaking betrayed her. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be on my way and out of your hair.”

“Captain, that’s one of the Sisters, isn’t it? The one who always ran errands for Grezzo?” one of the men – were they men anymore? – piped up.

“And the one who hung around the outsider,” another hissed. “Helped him. I saw her with him more than once.”

“Is that so?” the first Huntsman, the captain, practically purred. Millie swallowed, desperately attempting to keep her breathing even. “A friend of the doctor and the merchant. Sounds like she’d make a good bargaining chip, don’t you think?” He leaned closer, the torch light gleaming menacingly off his goggles. 

Millie thrust the revolver out in front of her, her hands trembling on the grip. “Stay back!” 

“Oh, my, we have ourselves a brave little mouse!” The Huntsman captain jeered. “Put the gun down, girl. We wouldn’t want you getting too badly hurt.”

Millie glanced to her right. There were two Huntsmen there, armed with shotguns. If she tried to flee, she’d be gunned down without a thought. Her eyes darted to the revolver. Could she take them out? Six bullets in the gun, six Huntsmen – at her skill level, there was no chance. And if she maimed even one of the former city guardians, who could say what would happen next? 

The captain prowled closer. Millie’s finger hesitated on the trigger.

He lurched forward, and she pulled the trigger in a panic, but the Huntsman captain was far too quick. He slammed his arm upward, causing her to aim into the sky. The revolver made a hideous click. The captain snatched the gun away, examining it closely. He cackled. “You really thought this piece of junk would protect you?” he leered. He pulled the trigger, and the gun made a pitiful clicking noise. “It jammed on the first shot. How pathetic.” The captain threw it aside.

His massive, gloved hand squeezed her shoulder. “Make it easy and come with us like a good girl.”

“Get your hands off of me!” Millie snapped. She jerked away, but the captain snatched her by the throat.

“Feisty,” he hissed. 

Millie clawed at his arm with her left hand, her right hand flailing against his goggles and mask. Her feet thrashed on the ground as the captain leaned over her. “Let go!” she screamed. Maybe if her shouting attracted a bat-thing, the hunters would be distracted and she could run… 

The captain didn’t reply; he simply squeezed tighter. Millie tried to get her fingers in between the man’s hand and her throat, but it was no use. The edges of her vision blurred and darkened. 

Wait! He was wearing his hunting belt – maybe, just maybe, he had his knife…

Before consciousness escaped her entirely, Millie clambered for the captain’s belt. There! With all the might she had left, she unsheathed the blade and jammed it into the hunter’s side. It wasn’t a deep wound, but she prayed it would be enough.

The captain screamed and shoved her away. Millie fell to the ground, taking gasping breaths, before trying to scramble to her feet. She was stopped by the buttstock of a shotgun to the side of her head. She could feel blood rushing from the wound, down her face, onto the cobblestone beneath her. 

“You damned insufferable little cunt!” The captain snarled, his boot finding a place in her ribs. “Can’t make anything easy, can you? Bitch!” 

The wound at Millie’s temple throbbed, blood pulsing from it with every beat of her heart. The captain snatched her by the back of her coat and dragged her to her feet. Millie stumbled; her vision was blurry, her ears ringing. The captain backhanded her before grabbing her by the front of her pinafore. Her heart pounded against her aching ribs, and her eyes stung with tears. She tried to twist away from the leader of the hunters, but it was no use. Keep fighting! You can’t let them take you!

“Quit squirming,” the captain sneered, “and this won’t be any worse th–what’s that?”

“Huh?” another hunter asked.

Millie managed to focus her vision enough to see Xander standing about fifty feet away, a syringe full of glowing red liquid in his hand. He was injecting whatever that awful concoction was into his arm, and Millie flinched, shutting her eyes before she witnessed the transformation. 

“That noise. That’s… oh, fuck!”

The captain threw her aside like a rag doll. Millie managed to catch herself before her head smacked into the ground, but her wrist gave out from pain, and she collapsed. 

She could hear the stomping of cloven hooves, and the roar of some kind of beast. Through the tears, blurry vision, and blood racing down her temple, she could see Xander, transformed into a half-human, half-goat monster. He was grabbing the Huntsmen and tossing them aside like they were made of paper. One of the hunters tried to stick his gun in the doctor’s side, but the beast simply yanked the gun away and smashed the buttstock into the hunter’s face before throwing the gun somewhere in the darkness. 

Millie crawled over to the wall and tried to regain her bearings. What was I doing? She shook her head, as if that would help. One of the hunters was still holding a torch; the light was unbearably bright. Millie covered her face and groaned. Where am I? Xander…

The torch-bearing Huntsman fled past her, the light blinding Millie. “You rat bastard!” the captain screamed at the cowardly hunter. As Xander continued his tirade, the captain turned to Millie, seemingly weighing his options. After a moment, he grabbed her hair and yanked. “Get up!”

Millie stared at him, barely registering the pain of him tugging the locks from her scalp for a moment. “Huh? Oh – ow!” 

Beast-Xander had finished dispatching the other hunters. He turned his attention to the Huntsman captain and snarled.

The captain let go of Millie’s hair, tossing her back as he did so. Her head smacked against the wall; she barely managed to hold onto her consciousness. Her entire body shrieked in pain.

Xander stomped over, and the captain raised his revolver and fired it into the monster’s shoulder. Beast-Xander grunted, but the bullet barely stopped him. He raked his claws across the captain’s masked face. The captain stumbled backward, then sprinted past the goatman, grabbing one of his fallen comrade’s shotguns. 

Despite his massive size, Xander was surprisingly quick in his monstrous form. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and yanked it from the captain’s hands. The goatman’s massive hands closed around the captain’s throat, not unlike how the captain had treated Millie just minutes earlier. The hunter captain screamed for help, for mercy, for anything to save him. He was just wasting his air. Beast-Xander strangled the life out of him and then tossed his body to the side. He laughed then – no, cackled, like a madman. Millie’s blood went cold. What if he turned on her?

He whirled around and bolted over to Millie. She flinched away, tears burning her aching cheeks, muffled sobs escaping her throat – and Xander’s face softened instantly. The goatman knelt down and made a guttural noise, as if he was trying to speak. His bloody hands cupped her face, searching her eyes. Beast-Xander grunted louder, attempting to make Millie understand something. But in her sluggish, utterly dazed state, it was impossible. She simply placed her hands over his and stared at him. Xander pressed his forehead against hers and she thought she heard a strangled sob escape his throat.

Somehow, she managed to comprehend what he was trying to tell her, as he tried to speak again: I’m sorry.

The beastman felt the back of her neck, then, seemingly satisfied with what he’d found (or not found), he picked her up. Millie laid her head against his broad, now-furry chest, which burst from the seams of his dirty yellow shirt. He rocked her in his arms for a moment, as if he was soothing a crying child, before standing with her. He stumbled slightly, and Millie could feel blood from his shoulder wound seeping through his clothes and onto hers.