Bran deeply inhaled the fresh air as he walked outside. The sun was warm on his face and the long grass tickled his exposed shins as he made his way towards the Barclay manor. He walked around the dark stone building and knocked on the servant’s quarters door. A tall man with a thick beard answered. “Hello Bran! The Baroness Isabella is almost ready. She’s just putting her basket together.” He clapped him on the back with one large, heavy hand. “Thanks again for--”
Bran cut him off. “Please don’t thank me. I’m just doing what anyone in my position would,” he insisted.
The man gave him a skeptical smile and moved for Isabella to walk through the door. “Goodbye, Raphael!” she said to the tall servant as she walked out.
“So, what did you tell your parents today?” Bran questioned.
“Nothing. They’re out of town for the next few weeks. I’ve got the whole manor to myself, so you can start using the main entrance if you’d like.” She shifted the heavy wicker basket in her arm, which Bran promptly grabbed to carry for her. He opened it up and peered inside.
“Looks like you’ve created some new salves since last week,” he said, while digging his way through the small glass jars.
“Some of my new herbs finally sprouted. Thank god that gardening is considered a lady-like hobby,” she laughed, shaking her waist-length brown hair.
Isabella and Bran had been friends since childhood. It didn’t matter that she was a baroness and he was merely a servant; she had always loved him like a sibling. Bran wasn't drawn to her from the mere convenience of proximity. Isabella was bright, quick witted, and compassionate.
Both twenty somethings were hardworking and fighting through prejudices to achieve their dreams. Bran as a servant, and Isabella as a woman. Isabella studied medical texts to brew potions and salves with the hopes of being the first female chemist in their city. Bran had similar ambitions. He had spent years reading medical texts and learning healing magics.
He had been taught medicine from his mother and she had left him an extensive library. The books on healing magic had been hand written notes by his father. Fae magic was forbidden by strict punishment, but no one in the clinic would dare turn him in. They were just happy to have access to some type of medical care.
Bran’s mother had taught him what a privilege it was to pass as a full human, but also the importance of embracing his heritage. It was his duty to help his people and give back to his community whenever possible.
The buildings became more decrepit and grimy as they entered the fae quarters of town. The fae medical clinic had a ramshackle, dilapidated look. Being severely underfunded, all donations went to medical supplies rather than infrastructure. There was already a line of people waiting outside for treatment. They all greeted Bran warmly as he walked by.
“Hello, Dr. Verdan.” Isabella embraced the doctor in a hug as they entered the building.
Henry Verdan was a short, squat man with watery eyes and the only doctor on staff. He was a helpful mentor who allowed Bran to apply what he’d learned in his medical texts, as well as healing spells. Aside from Isabella, he was the only human Bran dared to do magic in front of.
“Bran, Isabella, always a pleasure to see you both,” the doctor replied.
Bran walked toward the mirror and pulled his inky waves into a loose bun. He always left his pointed ears on display at the clinic. It was a reminder to the patrons that he could be trusted, that he was one of them.
Dr. Verdan peaked through a grimy window at the line outside. “Saturdays are always busy. People love coming when their favorite doctor is on staff.”
Bran threw his head back and laughed. “I wouldn’t call myself that quite yet.”
“Oh please, child. You’re more qualified than half the people I went to medical school with,” the short man insisted. “I wish that the fae of this town trusted me half as much as they trust you.”
Bran looked down at his feet and scuffed his shoe against the stone floor, attempting to purge his mind of the atrocities he’d witnessed. “You understand why they’re wary.”
Dr. Verdan nodded. “Of course I do. Anyways, now that you’re both here, we’ll have Marian begin intake.”
-
The morning consisted of a slew of stitches, expecting mothers, and bones that needed resetting.
Bran walked into the crowded waiting room. “Adella and Puck, I’m ready to see you.” A familiar middle aged woman and her six year old son walked into his examination room.
“So Puck, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” He knelt down towards the young boy. Rather than a light hearted quip, Adella’s eyes were downcast as Puck showed his wrists. The skin was tender, red, and charred.
Bran gasped. “Iron burns? What happened?”
“The guards happened,” Adella spat.
“But to put irons on a child…” Bran gaped. He couldn’t even fathom the reasoning. Iron was like hot coal to fae skin. Just being around iron was enough to make some sick.
“You know they can’t control their magic at his age,” Adella explained. “He was having fun with his friends, got excited. Some sparks came off his hands, he didn’t even do anything, but he was in the wrong part of town. He was reported almost immediately.”
“It hurts so bad,” Puck was on the verge of tears. “It’s been days, and it still hurts.”
“Days?” Bran turned to face Adella in shock. “Why did you wait so long to have him seen?”
“You know why,” Adella replied bitterly.
“I’ll do what I can, but there’s still not an effective magic to heal iron wounds. Isabella’s been working on a salve that should dull the pain and speed up the healing process. You need to trust the humans that work here.”
Adella gave a skeptical huff, but didn’t say anything else.
Bran bent down onto his knees to meet the boy at eye level. “Now Puck, I’ve had a very long morning and I’m feeling very glum. I’m going to ask that you do me a favor. I would feel much better if you could sing for me while I heal you. It might sting a bit, but I’m going to ask that you just keep focusing on singing, and don’t move your hands. It would make me very happy. Could you do that?”
Puck gave an enthusiastic nod, excited at the chance to help.
Bran closed his eyes. His own hands burned as he held them against the young boy's wrists, trying to remove the damage. He could hear Puck’s breathing become labored, but the boy never stopped singing.
After a few minutes, some of the angry red burns were replaced by light blue flesh, but it was still a nasty sight. He would definitely have long term scarring.
“Get the salve from Isabella if you want him to feel better,” Bran commanded. “You can trust her. She uses all of her own money to purchase items. She’ll give it to you completely free.” Bran couldn’t imagine how destitute the clinic would be without her help. It was one of the many reasons he loved her so deeply. “Come visit Dr. Verdan in three days if you don’t see any improvements.”
Bran’s slender frame slumped in a chair after the mother and son left; he felt completely drained.
A few minutes later, Isabella opened the door and peeked her head in.
“Children, Isabella!” Bran said angrily. “They’re doing it to children now!”
“I saw,” Isabella said solemnly. “But I brought something that might make you feel better.”
“Crepes?’ he asked hopefully.
“Even better,” a baritone voice replied.
“Dorian,” Bran blushed as a tall, burly man stepped forward. “How can I help you?”
“I happened to be in the area and I thought I’d check in on my favorite medical professional.” He sauntered towards him, allowing his hips to swing. “Sounds like you’ve had a rough day. Maybe I could make you feel better with dinner tonight.”
Bran shook his head. “As I’ve told you before, I’m very busy. I don’t have time to party all night.”
“C’mon,” he insisted, leaning onto his elbows. “It never stopped you in the past. Remember how much fun we all used to have?”
Bran remembered. He remembered wild parties, sloppy kisses exchanged with strangers in the dark, drinking copious amounts of alcohol and taking God knows what to dull the pain of everyday life. He also remembered being useless to everyone in the days that followed. He remembered it never filled the gaping hole in his chest.
“I’m not the same person I was as a teenager, but I appreciate the offer,” he replied with a tight lipped smile.
“I’d like to think I’m a different person too,” Dorian retorted. “We don’t have to party. Just a nice dinner between old friends. It might be nice to catch up.”
Based on all previous encounters, Bran doubted that was the brawny man’s sole intention.
“Maybe another time,” Bran said with an air of finality.
“Ain’t that a shame. Well, if you ever decide to let that gorgeous hair down,” Dorian stopped to push an errant, dark lock behind Bran’s pointed ear, “You know where to find me.” He blew him a kiss before walking out the door. “Always a pleasure, Branny.”
Bran groaned after he left. “I hate it when he calls me that. We could be seeing actual patients. Why did you let him in here? I’m sure he had to cut about five people in line.”
“No one cares that he cut in line. Bran, we just want to see you happy. I think half the women here would jump at the chance to set you up with their son.” Isabella rolled her eyes at him. “Honestly, if Dorian were interested in women, I’d jump him in a second.”
“You’d jump literally anyone interested in women,” Bran teased.
She waved her hand at him, not denying the accusation. “He’s handsome and sweet. You’re just too picky.”
“No, I’m just too busy. You know how much work relationships are.” If he was being honest, Bran had never found himself in one that was really worth the effort. “Also, I bet he still snores. He was never really that good in bed anyways.”
“Still, you deserve to have some fun,” she looked at him, eyes full of concern.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied dryly. “Why don’t you go back to the apothecary and have Mariam send the next patient in.”
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