Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elena had been dusting a vase, anticipating the end of her shift, when it all went to hell.

Although she typically spent her time in the kitchen, she had been assigned by the Grand Chambermaid to cover a gap in the evening staff’s cleaning rotation. It wasn’t something she’d done in a while, but it was an easy enough job; polishing, dusting, sweeping, the work mostly mindless—as much as anyone in Castle Dimitrescu could afford to be. 

Her night had gone downhill in the daughters’ wing, her last stop for the night. It was also the maid’s least favorite place, a place where the most staff were lost due to mistakes or meddling. 

The daughter’s wing was not as lavishly decorated as the Lady’s—mostly due to the girls’ inclinations to occasional bouts of property damage. Though, there were still numerous paintings, vases and other decor that required the maid’s attention. The piece that doomed her was a white vase, covered in delicately molded flowers and streaks of gold. 

The only tasks left for her were to dust the vase and replace the flowers, ten minutes at most before she could crawl into bed and relax, celebrate another night of safety in the lion’s den. Six months of work at the Castle, and she had been lucky enough to fly largely under the radar.

Her luck was not due to hold, however.

She had failed to notice the buzzing or the low giggling, head in the clouds as she dusted. It was almost midnight, close to curfew. All she could think of was her bed and some rest. So, when an unfamiliar pair of arms draped over her shoulders, she startled—badly.

“Oh,” Cassandra purred, peering over her shoulder at the shattered vase. “Well, Mother’s going to be very upset about that.”

Elena stared, heart racing and stomach sinking to her feet.

An expensive, priceless ceramic shattered by her hand.

Her arms still wound around her shoulders, face tucked into the crook of Elena’s neck, Cassandra cackled like it was all a cruel joke. It grew in volume, menacing in the quiet of the hallway. Growing louder still as Elena yanked free from her, scrambling to her knees to pluck the shards from the floor in a panic, as if she could try to fit them back together.

Beside her, Cassandra sunk to a crouch, head tilted to watch. Her grin was vicious. “I’ve been waiting for you to slip up, little one.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena whispered, sniffling.

She had gone numb, not even yelping as the sharp edges nipped at her fingertips. Just kept grasping at the pieces, frantic, her heart racing like that of a rabbit trapped in a snare.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Cassandra chortled, reaching out as if to touch her hair. “Oh, we’ve waited so long—”

A sharp reprimand cut her off. “Cassandra!”

“Ugh, Bela’s here,” the brunette groaned, theatrical, but her smile never wavered. “Look, big sister—” she stressed the title, eyes flaring brighter somehow. “The little one finally slipped up. Isn’t this great?”

Bela yanked her sister up by her hood, shooing her away from the trembling maid’s side. “She’s bleeding, Cassandra. Mother will—”

The rest of the words slipped over her head, as Elena stared down at her hands, cradling shattered, blood-stained ceramic. The price of a life weighed up against a few shards of a vase—and she knew which way the scale fell. The thought made her sob, soft, then growing louder. 

She hardly noticed when Bela approached her, only standing when the blonde made her, sweeping the shards from her hands back to the floor. The largest shattering into a few more fragments, loud as a gunshot. And Elena stared mutely at them, frozen as Bela wiped pinpricks of blood away from her fingers.

By the time the Dimitrescu heiress had tidied her up and shepherded her down the hallway, Cassandra was long gone.

Elena was helpless but to do as Bela said. Quiet tears ran down her cheeks as she was marched through the halls towards the Lady’s study. They passed a few maids still on shift, many Elena recognized. The maids froze at the sight of them, then averted their eyes in deference—all recognizing the funeral march.

“Enter,” Lady Dimitrescu called at Bela’s knock. 

Bela opened the door, but Elena didn’t move immediately. Had to practically be forced inside by a firm hand at her lower back, stumbling slightly past the threshold on trembling legs. 

“Mother,” Bela greeted, nudging her forward until she stood before the Lady’s desk. She presented her before her mother like a prize, a peculiar look on her face. “The little one broke a vase.”

The Lady set down the fountain pen on her desk, molten gold eyes peering harshly from behind the shadow of her hat. “Well, well. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Elena couldn’t meet her gaze. She wrung her wrists, staring down at her hands. “I’m sorry, My Lady.”

“Bela,” Alcina nodded towards the door. “Send word to your sisters. Make the preparations.”

“Yes, Mother!”

Despite how reserved the eldest sister usually was, she couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. Elena’s stomach sank at the sheer joy in Bela’s tone, as the girl dispersed into flies and spirited away to parts unknown. She had never heard her like that. The thought of it made her sick.

“And you—”

Elena shook as the Lady’s heated eyes returned to her, but whatever else she meant to say was stolen by the ringing of a phone. 

The Lady huffed, expression pinching, as the phone’s ringing continued. But even the maids in the house knew that the phone was only contactable by a very important few, and of those, one in particular could not be ignored. So, with much regret, the Lady reached to answer.

“A moment, little one,” the Lady growled. “I will deal with you soon.”

Trusting her not to move, she reached for the phone. “Mother Miranda,” she greeted tightly. “How good of you to call. I—”

The Lady paused, listening, her brows scrunched. Her eyes didn’t leave Elena, noting the shuffling of her feet on the rug. 

“No, Mother, I’m afraid there’s been a delay, that idiot Heisenberg—yes, Mother.”

A foot slowly stepped backward, then another. 

Lady Dimitrescu glowered at her, eyes burning, but made no move to put the phone down.

She continued to inch until her back met the door, riveted on the Lady’s gaze. Watching the menace slowly grow in them. The Lady’s tone carrying a bite verging on disrespectful.

Elena grasped the door handle and, when the Lady made no move to stop her, pulled it open.

She hovered in the doorway, uncertain.

The Lady cupped a hand over the receiver, snarling. “Don’t you dare—”

Elena ran.

“Where are you, little mouse?” 

Heels clicked slowly down the hallway, sedate, meandering—poised like a creature on the hunt. 

The Lady called again, voice high, teasing. “You’re only making things worse for yourself.”

Elena, the hunted, ducked down behind the statue as Lady Dimitrescu passed, willing her heart to stop thundering. It was a fruitless task, though. She could hardly hear past its pounding, could hardly see past the tears streaming down her face. She pressed her hands to her mouth, forcing the sobs back.

No time to panic, she told herself. Escape first.

On unsteady legs, she eased herself out from behind the statue as the footsteps faded. Her mind spun with which direction to go. She had already tried the Entrance Hall, but the doors were locked tight. Only the Lady, her daughters, or the Grand Chambermaid had keys—and of those, only one wouldn’t kill her on sight.

Mind made up, Elena scurried through the entrance hall on bare feet, making for the servant’s wing.

The sky outside was long dark and shadows had set in through the castle’s halls. Elena was careful to stick to them as she darted down familiar hallways, pausing only to listen out for familiar steps or voices. But there were few up at this time, save the Lady and her daughters. The maids never left their quarters after curfew, except the unfortunate soul on kitchen prep duty.

A familiar blonde stood at the counter, peeling potatoes in the candle light. She looked up as the kitchen door creaked open, squinting to make her out. A potato dropped, thunking to the floor and rolling into the far corner of the kitchen. “Elena?” 

“Adela!” Elena rushed forward. “Oh my god, Adela!”

The maid stared through her like a ghost, a dead woman walking. Her eyes were red. “Elena! I thought you were dead. The Lady—”

“Not yet, I slipped away while she was on the phone,” Elena replied, shivering. “I need to get out of the castle, Adela. I need to find the Grand Chambermaid, she has the door key. Have you seen her?”

Adela shook her head, taking an uneasy step back. Her eyes were wide, wet. “I haven’t seen her, I’ve been alone in here. I—”

“Please, Adela. Where did you see her last?” Elena begged, falling desperately to her knees, grasping her friend’s apron. “You must help me!”

Skin ashen, the maid reached down, trying to pull the hands away from the fabric. “I can’t, Elena! You know I can’t!”

The rational part of Elena’s brain knew this, had once stood on the other side of this exchange. Lady Dimitrescu was not forgiving, neither were her daughters—all maids knew that to aid the escape of their prey, regardless of who they were, was a death sentence. She knew this, but could not reckon with what it meant for her.

“I’ll pretend I never saw you,” Adela said, regretfully. “That’s the only help I can give you, Elena. I’m sorry.”

Her tears poured freely down her face. “No, Adela, please! She’ll kill me!”

Adela pulled the apron from Elena’s hands, stepping back towards the stovetop. “You must go, please, before she kills us both.”

In this distance, a snarl. “Daughters, to me!”

Elena froze like a startled prey animal as the Lady’s voice carried loudly through the halls of Castle Dimitrescu. She was calling in help. She met Adela’s horrified gaze as her friend stepped further away, both coming to the same conclusion.

Eventually, after a long moment, Adela broke.

“Try the Lady’s study! I heard she keeps a spare in the bottom draw of her desk,” Adela whispered urgently, helping her stand. “Now go! Please!”

She didn’t need to be told twice, moving towards the door. “Thank you, Adela! I won’t forget this.”

Adela’s voice carried behind her, thick and regretful. “Good luck, Elena.”

Barely out the door, she heard Adela’s voice raise in alarm. “Lady Cassandra!”

“Maid! Have you seen anyone else pass by?”

“No, Lady Cassandra. It’s just myself on kitchen duty tonight.”

Elena ducked into one of the many storerooms in the hallway off the kitchen, stomach curling with dread. Of all of the daughters, Cassandra was the most brutal, fond of terror and torture in all forms. She was responsible for Elena’s current state. She couldn’t afford to be caught by her again.

Swallowing thickly, she cast her eyes around the storage room. It was dark, lit only by a small sealed window high on the wall. In the overwhelming shadow, she had to squint to make out the crates of produce. But she had worked in the kitchen for months, and could navigate this room like the back of her hand. 

Decisive, she ducked towards the farthest wall, to where a large crate full of sacks of grain lay in wait. Heavy things, she’d never been able to lift them out of the crate herself, always pleading Elena or Irina to do it for her. Now, she did her best to climb inside the crate with them. Like a burrowing mouse, she squirmed deeper into the bundles, pulling the lighter ones on top over her head as best she could. Then, she waited.

She did not have to wait long.

Lady Cassandra’s arrival was heralded on insect wings. She burst through the open doorway, dragging her scythe against the stone wall, the brief sparks catching the hungry gold in her eyes as she cast her eyes around. “I’ll find you, little one, don’t think that I won’t.”

Elena pressed her hands to her mouth, daring not to even breathe.  

The woman prowled through the store room, kicking over smaller boxes and peering between bottles on shelves. Each movement made Elena flinch, but she stayed still. There would be no escape now, and she only hoped her safe place would spare her the wildest Dimitrescu’s fury. 

Cassandra’s sickle shot out, carving through a number of bags like butter, sending grain everywhere. It poured over her like an avalanche, fast and then slowing gradually as it pooled in the bottom of the crate. It would be a nightmare for the maids to clean tomorrow morning. But huddled beneath the sacks, dust in her eyes, she cared little about the mess.

After a moment of waiting, Cassandra snarled and turned on her heel, a cloud of insects bursting back into the hall. 

Frozen for a few long minutes, until she was sure that no furious Dimitrescu would be barreling back in to slaughter her where she stood, Elena slowly pulled herself free from the mess. She shook the grain out of her hair and clothes as best she could, scattering it all over the floor. Then, she crept back towards the door, heart in her throat.

Satisfied there were no monsters laying in wait, she darted back down the hall like a woman possessed.

The path back to the Lady’s study was one fraught with danger. 

It was in a room off the library hall on the second floor. A path that required her to make her way back through the main hall or the library proper. Both daunting prospects, especially when the daughters had been turned loose in the castle to hunt her. Elena knew well what violence awaited her if caught.

Still, there was little to be gained in losing herself to fear. With much difficulty, she calmed her trembling hands and pressed on.

Tempted as she was by a trek through the library, Elena didn’t dare. It was well known among the staff that Lady Daniela virtually lived inside, buried in romance novels all day long. And though the youngest Dimitrescu was presumably in on her hunt, Elena didn’t fancy trying to find out whether the youngest daughter’s attention had wandered. Instead, risking the main hall again would have to be her choice.

A heart-stopping moment came when she was forced to duck into the shadows of the alcove under the stairs, waiting for Bela to pass by on the landing above her. She was muttering to herself, seeming frustrated, though Elena couldn’t make out why. Perhaps that whatever ‘preparations’ the Lady had asked for were going to waste. She huddled there, waiting, until Bela drifted in the other direction.

Straightening her legs with much difficulty, she quietly slipped up the stairs. Even the muffled sounds of her bare feet on the runner was enough to make her skin prickle with awareness, eyes darting side-to-side as she scurried down the hall. Half expecting Bela to burst back and run her through.

Eventually she came upon a familiar door—one she had burst out of maybe an hour earlier. It loomed over her like the gates of hell.

With a shaky hand, she twisted the handle. Unlocked.

Pushing it open, she stepped inside. The fire was burning in the fireplace still, but the log was getting down to embers, telling her that it had been some time since she’d made her initial escape—and, more importantly, that it appeared nobody had returned to stoke it. A positive sign.

The Lady’s desk, built specifically for her impressive height and coming almost to Elena’s chest when standing, loomed in the middle of the room like a sacrificial altar. 

Swallowing thickly, she darted over the rug, slipping behind the desk. It had heavy, intricately carved wooden drawers on either side, with knobs of polished brass. Bottom drawer, she reminded herself, beginning first with the large drawer on the right side. It slid open almost noiselessly, all of the hinges perfectly oiled.

“Nothing, nothing, not important,” she muttered to herself, just to break the choked silence as she rifled through the Lady’s belongings—a move that guaranteed her death, just as all her others had been today. It was mostly full of notebooks and files related to the winery, no key to be found. “Shit.”

Shaking her head, she moved to the other side, kneeling down to reach all the way to the back. This one, too, had paperwork. However, there were also some other items of interest: a sealed bottle of wine, a sealed cherry-wood box with the Dimitrescu logo on top—which no amount of trying would open—and then, tucked at the very back, a key set on a thin necklace chain. 

“Oh my god,” Elena picked up the large key with shaky hands. She closed her eyes, muttering a prayer of some kind. “Thank you, Adela.”

The trek back towards the door was even more frightening, perhaps because victory was so surely in sight.

It took her almost a half-hour to ease her way down the hall and back towards the stairs.

She was forced to duck in and out of side rooms and behind statues, more than once. The daughters’ hunting was growing even more fervent—Cassandra, in particular, stalking the main room like a caged lion. Bela, too, had more than once prowled the landing, her hair messy like she’d been raking her hand through it. Daniela was nowhere to be seen, and that was somehow more terrifying.

All the while, the Lady’s footsteps haunted the halls, far away but still too close.

In a break between the daughter’s attention, with no buzzing insects heard, she finally managed to slip across the main hall and make for the Entrance Hall. The door to freedom was large, imposing, and the sight of it had her heart stuttering at the prospect of freedom—even in a dirty maid’s uniform with no shoes, the idea of risking death by lycan was preferable to whatever fate awaited her here.

It became more tantalizing still when the key set in the lock and actually turned.

The door’s unlocking was loud, creaky from disuse as it slowly began to open. She pulled with all of her might, bare feet slipping slightly on the polished floors. However, she was so focused on opening the door, she failed to see the stream of insects pouring down from the ceiling behind her.

At least, until an arm pressed over her head and a chest pressed against her back. The door was slowly pushed shut with supernatural force, half dragging her with it before she could release the handle. It latched with a sharp click, and the key was snatched.

Elena whipped around, eyes wide and dread pervading her very cells.

“Hello, baby sister,” Daniela grinned down at her, her pupil almost eclipsing the gold of her eyes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Has Mother given you permission to go exploring?”

She opened and closed her mouth, mute as a mouse. 

Daniela tilted her head, frowning. “Have you lost your voice, baby sister?”

She couldn’t focus on the nickname, all she could focus on was the crimson between Daniela’s teeth and the feral look in her eye. A look she had seen many times before, usually the harbinger of a maid being dragged down to the cellar and never seen again. 

“Please,” she whispered, voice croaking. “Let me go, Lady Daniela.”

The redhead tilted her head the other way this time, like a curious cat. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Please,” Elena pleaded again. “I didn’t mean to break the vase—”

“I don’t care about that, silly,” Daniela laughed at her. But there was a strange lilt to her words, dreamy quality to her voice—the most unhinged of the sisters, always straddling half a foot in reality and half a foot somewhere far worse. “I’ve been waiting forever for you! I’ve been so patient, but Mother and Bela wouldn’t let me near you, wanted you to ‘learn the castle and the family first’. They wouldn’t let me play with you, no matter how much I begged! But they already have everything, they just don’t understand how much I wanted you—”

Her words speed up, excited, almost manic in quality in a way that made Elena tremble. The words passed over her, but she couldn’t understand them, wasn’t sure she was supposed to. Instead, she tried to pull away—but Daniela didn’t let her. The movement just inspired the youngest Dimitrescu to grasp her cheeks between her hands, squishing them like one might a puppy.

Elena whimpered again. “P-Please, don’t.”

“Do you want to play a game?”

“No, I—” 

Daniela dangled the key before her like a shiny prize. “Are you sure?”

She froze, eyeing it as it swung hypnotically back and forth by the chain. Temptation, made manifest.

She had no alternatives.

“…What kind of game?”

Daniela positively beamed.

The goal was simple, really.

In theory, anyway, if not in execution.

Daniela would let her go, hand her the key herself, if Elena could sneak her way into Lady Dimitrescu’s chambers and steal her a flower. 

“All the best ones,” Daniela had explained, nose scrunched, dangling the key in front of her like a pendulum, “are kept for Mother, and she doesn’t even appreciate them! So, I want you to steal them—she can’t be mad at me if you do it!”

“I think I can do it,” Elena said, mentally mapping the path she would need to take. To the wing at the farthest end, to the one room none would be foolish enough to enter, so it was never locked. She swallowed thickly. “But, if Lady Bela and Lady Cassandra catch me—”

“They won’t,” Daniela scowled at the idea. “I’ll keep them busy! Then it’s just Mother you have to deal with! Easy peasy!”

Elena eyed her in a way that screamed ‘that is a lie and you know it.’

But Daniela just smiled back, undisturbed, practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of it. 

“Imagine Mother’s face if she comes back and sees her flowers missing!” Daniela laughed. “It’ll be so good. She’ll never expect it!”

“Lady Daniela,” Elena said gravely, thickly. “Your Mother will kill me if she finds me.”

Daniela just shook her head, waving a hand. “You’ll be fine! I’ll even give you a head start on her!”

“How?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Daniela replied, tucking the key into her bra. Then, cupping her hand around her mouth, she screamed. “MOTHER, SISTERS, I FOUND HER!”

Elena’s eyes blew wide, waves of fear rushing over her as she heard responding shouts and the distinct sounds of doors being slammed open in the distance hard enough to shake the Castle foundations. She gaped, swearing despite herself. “What the fuck—?”

“Go!” Daniela waved. “Bring me a rose! They’re my favorite.”

And, well, she wasn’t sticking around.

Elena set off at a sprint as Daniela cackled behind her.

True to Daniela’s word, Elena did not catch hide nor hair of the sisters on her frantic mission across the castle.

It was a small mercy, though, as she could still very much hear the Lady moving through her estate in search of her. Even more aggravated than before, it seemed. Each slam of a door made Elena’s heart race, and she feared that drawing the chase out further would end in far worse fates than death.

So, her only saving grace was that the Lady likely didn’t expect her to run to the one place no sane person would dare tread. The literal dragon’s den, as it were. And though it felt much like setting one’s head knowingly in a trap, awaiting it to snap shut, it’s not like she had a choice.

The familiar doors to Lady Dimitrescu’s room loomed, almost before she was ready for them. 

She paused outside the room, only briefly, willing her heart to stop racing. “Damn it,” she cursed, shaking her head. “I’ve come this far”

Pushing one of the doors open, she slipped inside and pushed it gently shut behind her. Her eyes raked over the Lady’s suite for what she was looking for: canopy bed, mantle over a stoked fireplace, large dressers, a vanity—there!

A vase sat on the Lady’s side table, seemingly forgotten. In it, a flourishing bouquet of red roses sat innocently, hers for the taking. The literal key to the Castle, Daniela willing. 

“Yes,” Elena hissed, rushing over to pluck one from the vase. She couldn’t resist a second, more excited, “Yes!”

But it was no time for celebration, as the doors opened behind her with a crash.

She spun, eyes widening. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest.

From beneath the brim of her hat, Alcina smiled, sharp as a razor’s edge. “Found you, little mouse.”

The plucked rose fell from between her limp fingers, hitting the floor. She fell not long after it, to her knees giving in as she stared up up up into molten golden eyes.

“Lady Dimitrescu,” she gasped, scrambling backwards, until her back met the wall. From this position, Alcina towered over her like a god—or, more accurately, a demon. “P-Please, I’m sorry!”

The lady peered down at her, head tilted as if she was genuinely curious. “Did you have fun on your little adventure? Trying to steal from me?”

Elena’s breathing came fast, panicked. She repeated, “I’m sorry!”

“You’re braver than I thought,” Alcina replied, ignoring the sniveling. “Who would have thought you would be brave enough to walk right into my arms, hm? Daniela has been a bad influence on you, already.”

She tucked her knees in tighter to her chest, nowhere to go, pinned beneath the burning stare.

“But oh, where’s all that confidence gone?” Alcina asked mockingly. “And to think, if you had been a little more obedient, we could have been here much sooner, no detours necessary.”

“Please,” she gasped, terror creeping like ice in her veins. “I-I don’t want to die!”

“You misunderstand, little mouse,” Lady Dimitrescu said, reaching down to pick her up from under her waist effortlessly, heedless of her squirming and crying. She balanced the small girl on her hip, brushing away the tears on the cheek with a blithe smile. “I have much bigger plans for you, my darling.”

“Arms up.”

Elena froze as Lady Dimitrescu deposited her on the floor of her ensuite. The cool tiles paled in comparison to a feeling of dread, not unlike ice water slipping down her spine. “M-My Lady?”

“Arms up,” Lady Dimitrescu said, taking off her hat to set it on the vanity. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Confusion swelled within her, but it was overwhelmed with the fear of what would be done to her if she refused. So, she hesitantly raised her arms up, palms pointed at the floor, waiting. 

Lady Dimitrescu clicked her tongue, grasping her wrists and pulling them high above her head. Then, she reached down to grab at the hem of Elena’s uniform, whisking the dress up and over her head, ignoring her subsequent gasp and scramble to cover herself with her hands. “Relax, darling,” she said. “This outfit doesn’t suit a little thing like you.”

“My lady, please,” she whimpered, thoughts racing. “Why—”

A hand reached past her, turning the handle on the enormous bathtub, water bursting from the pipe as it slowly began to fill. “You got quite filthy, scurrying around my castle, little mouse,” she replied, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind Elena’s ear. “You must be clean for what is to come.”

Horror blossomed in her chest—as a kitchen maid, she was under no illusions as to the family’s diet. “Are you going to e-eat me?” 

In the face of what must surely be her impending doom, a ritual cleanse before ingestion, Elena shook horribly. She felt tiny in the face of the Lady’s impossible height, and exposed as she stood in just underwear and a thin bra. A single tear slipped over her cheek.

“My, what an overactive imagination you have,” Lady Dimitrescu sighed, reaching out to swipe the tear away—dutifully ignoring the way the girl flinched. “Even my lovely Daniela was not half as wide-eyed as you when she first came to me.”

“T-Then what do you want from me?”

“For you to get clean, my darling,” she answered. “You smell like you’ve been rolling in a silo. I fear for the state of my kitchens.”

Elena flushed despite herself, but stayed pointedly silent, choked by the memory of Cassandra’s sickle and the weight of multiple grain bags pouring over her.

The Lady spared her silence no mind, reaching for an unfamiliar bottle set on the side of the bath. She scattered a few syrupy droplets into the water. It smelled sweet, light and fragrant, and Elena was surprised to spot bubbles, spreading gradually across the surface of the water.

“You like bubble baths?” she asked, despite herself. 

A golden eye spared her an unreadable look. “Not particularly.”

Questions flooded her brain, but she knew better than to try and voice them again. Lady Dimitrescu’s patience could be thin on a good day—and all things considered, today had been a very bad one thanks to her. So instead, Elena occupied herself with shuffling slightly on the spot, trying to better cover her bare skin with her arms, thankful at least that the Lady had left her in her bra and underwear. 

The Lady let her stew, showing no interest in her awkward shuffles as she instead watched the water fill the bathtub, spreading the thick bubbles across the surface. The tub was large enough for the Lady, more a swimming pool, so it took a long time to even begin approaching halfway. However, when it began to lick over the edge of the small bench seat, Lady Dimitrescu dipped her fingers into the bath then let out a pleased nod.

She turned around, then, leaning down to offer the smaller girl her back—more specifically, the buttons on her dress. “If you would, darling.”

Elena hesitated, uncertain. “I—”

“This century, dearest,” the Lady retorted, watching her carefully in the reflection of the vanity mirror.

Slowly, on unsteady feet she stepped forward, arms falling away from covering her own skin to try and bat awkwardly at the highest of the buttons. It was tough, even with the Lady stooping down. She really needed a step ladder, but instead worked best as she could with tippy-toes and shaking hands. Eventually, the top button unhooked, then the rest slowly followed.

Once more than half the buttons were done, the Lady waved her away. Then, she dropped the dress, letting it fall carelessly to the tile.

“Good girl,” Alcina hummed.

Despite herself, Elena squeaked and averted her eyes as the Lady turned around.

The maids shared bathing facilities, of course. She wasn’t unfamiliar with women in states of undress. But, she’d never willingly looked at another girl’s body—and for it to be the Lady’s seemed so utterly wrong, a reality she couldn’t understand.

Rolling her eyes, Alcina reached back on her own, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Then, swiftly after, her panties, garters and stockings followed. Until she was standing nude and looking completely unbothered by it.

“Stay still,” Alcina said, coming closer to her.

Elena’s head shifted back, finding the lady’s stomach at eye level—soft and marred only by a few silvery stretch marks. Then, they rose, up to her naked chest, which made her swiftly snap her eyes up, then closed again.

So determined to not look, she startled at the feeling of the Lady bending to reach behind her again. This time, unhooking Elena’s bra instead. 

Her brain short circuited, and she tried desperately to grip the fabric to her chest, heart racing.

Alcina rolled her eyes, snatching it from her hands and letting it drop to the floor. Then, reaching further down, to coax the girl’s underwear off as well, ignoring her whimpering. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, darling. I do have three other daughters.”

Elena wanted to sob, but held it in. Her chest rising and falling in desperate breaths, while mentally she felt three inches to the left of her own body, off-kilter and strange. She was willing to believe it all a bad dream, if it weren’t for the Lady’s hands settling on her naked hips.

“Wha—”

“Quiet.”

Cowering into the silence, Elena was powerless to stop the much larger woman from arranging her how she wanted. Which, as it turned out, was in the tub. Settled between the Lady’s legs, her own larger thighs resting against Elena’s.

She squeaked as the water hit her skin, warm and fragrant and nearly swallowing her up to her collarbone. “My Lady, please—”

The Lady pinched her hip, then reached out to turn off the tap. “Quiet.”

Elena whined again, especially as the Lady determined that she was too deep in the tub, gripping the smaller girl by her thighs for a moment and shifting her higher, until she was perched on her lap instead. Naked skin to naked skin, so utterly wrong. 

Contrary to her spiral, the Lady practically purred at the way they slotted together. “Very good, dragă. I have waited decades for you.”

Now, Elena knew she was small for her age.

She blamed her height on a mixture of her mother’s genes and food scarcity in the village for much of her childhood. Her diminutive five-foot-nothing had been stark against everyone she grew up with, and more so in the castle, often leaving her scrambling to keep up with taller colleagues.

But, sitting in Lady Dimitrescu’s lap, she felt…impossibly tiny.

“Such a small thing,” Alcina purred, gently running a brush through her hair to tease out the tangles. She had washed the girl’s hair and her body thoroughly, ignoring the way she shivered and protested as the washcloth passed over her. “How such a child came to be in my kitchens, I don’t know. Though, it was quite cute to watch you toddle around behind all the other maids.”

Mortification and indignation warred across her face, and not for the first time Elena cursed the way she flushed at the drop of a hat. “I am twenty, My Lady.”

“A child,” Alcina reiterated, setting the brush down and caressing a reddened cheek instead. “And it’s not ‘My Lady’ to you, little mouse.”

Elena swallowed thickly. “T-Then what should I call you?”

Golden eyes peered at her in the mirror, an unreadable look in them. “Mother, or other variations therein, little one.”

“Wha—” Elena’s mouth opened and closed, head spinning. “How could I possibly…”

“Because I have asked it of you, and you’ve already disobeyed me once,” the taller woman spoke, setting the brush aside, seemingly satisfied. She instead turned the smaller girl sideways in her lap, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. “I want to hear you say it.”

Her heart ran rampant in her chest, terror and confusion and disbelief all gripping her. “I—I—”

“Is it such an outrageous demand, little dove?” Alcina asked, hand dropping from her chin to press over her heart, feeling the flutter like bird wings. “Such a loud heart, you have.”

She stared up at the Lady, feeling very much like a bird caught in the jaws of a beast.

Slowly, with great difficulty, she worked her jaw. “No…Mother.”

“Good,” Alcina ran her hand lower, passing briefly over Elena’s breasts, ignoring the smaller girl’s startled squeak. The touch was curious, but not inherently sexual. It mapped her slowly, passing over her smooth belly, dragging over hip, before curling around her upper thigh. “I am very much looking forward to spending more time with you, little one.”

Her stomach twisted, uncomfortable and sickened by the implication. “Please—”

“Hush,” Alcina replied, big hand squeezing her thigh. “Do not worry, you are safe, little one. Your big sisters and I will look after you.”

She paused. “S-sisters?”

“Of course, you know them well,” Alcina replied easily. “They are looking forward to officially meeting their newest little sister. Daniela, particularly, is so excited to meet you. I think she’s grown tired of being the youngest.”

Her thoughts swam, the most pervasive one being fear.

Her heart raced at the thought of whatever this strange new situation, being their little sister, entailed. Less than half an hour ago, they had been hunting for her. Cassandra had almost sliced through her like a bag of grain. Bela was the one to turn her over to the Lady to begin with! And Daniela, the most unhinged, had doomed her escape.

“Shh, shh,” Alcina hushed her, wiping away the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Breathe easy, darling. It will all be okay, you shall see.”

Her brain screamed ‘how is this okay?!’, but all she managed to get out was a squeaky, shuddering sob. They ran down her cheeks, dropping into the bath water with soft plinks. She felt both hot and cold.

She didn’t process it happening, but before she knew it she was turned in her lap to fully face the Lady. Heedless of their nakedness, Alcina hiked her up her front, chest to chest, guiding Elena’s head to press into the crook of her neck.

She froze at the change, but was unable to still her hitching breath. She pressed her hands up to the Lady’s collar, trying gently to push herself away, then firmer when the hold remained unmoving. A fruitless motion, as Alcina held her pinned with little effort.

Alcina’s hand on the back of her head pressed more firmly, insistent, coaxing her to rest her cheek on the Lady’s collar, nose brushing her neck. She said nothing to Elena, just kept her pressed there, the two of them chest-to-chest as the smaller girl gave shaking little breaths, overwhelmed. Time passing by, syrupy and thick feeling.

Eventually, her racing thoughts and heart eased, and when she made no move to lift her head away Alcina rewarded her by removing the pinning hand. “Good girl,” Alcina purred, hand shifting to soothe over the length of her back, up and down. 

Elena inhaled deeply, eyes closing as a sudden sense of tiredness snuck up on her. Exhaustion unsurprising, considering the ongoing excitement of the night. Breathing through her nose, she took in the Lady’s scent up close. The smell was indescribable—skin wet, slippery and fragrant with the bubble bath, but layered with heady floral perfume that had not yet washed away, and then something deeper she couldn’t place.

Alcina didn’t move as the girl leaned deeper into her, nor as she huffed deeper into her neck. But, free of observers, she did allow a pleased smile to spread across her face.

Fresh from the bath, with no makeup and her hair loose around her shoulders, the sight of the Lady of the Castle was disarming. Especially as the Lady had bundled her out of the bath. She was half-asleep as the Lady patted her dry with an enormous towel, then slipped her into a sheer white nightgown. Before she knew it, she was pressed into a seat in one of the armchairs perched by the fire, stoked and roaring.

During the time that they had been in the bath, a maid must have come in. A silver tray had been set on the table between her chair and the Lady’s, two teacups already brewed. One was in a small white cup dotted with flowers, the liquid inside dark amber. The other, larger and much more ornate, was a strange shade of red.

The Lady reached for a sugar cube, dropping it into Elena’s cup rather than her own. Then, she offered it to the smaller girl, who just stared at it, more awake now, squinting dubiously.

“I don’t like tea,” Elena said, staring down at the cup.

Alcina stared evenly back at her, pressing it insistently into her hands until she was forced to grab it. “It is rude to decline, sweetheart. Especially when Mother prepares it for you.”

Elena swallowed heavily, biting her tongue to prevent herself from pointing out that it was likely the maids that had done so. Instead, her brain caught on that title again—Mother. It made her uncomfortable, settling somewhere in the base of her spine and driving her to squirm. She rolled her shoulders instead, trying to shake away the feeling.

Despite her own misgivings, she was forced to concede under that heavy gaze. She had survived, somehow, and whatever games the family meant to play with her, she would be better to play along. So, Elena obediently raised the teacup and gave the brew a tentative sniff. It was floral, herby, and something about it that made her grimace. 

“I don’t—” she broke off, frowning. “It doesn’t…smell good.”

“Drink it, dragă,” Alcina replied, firmer, warning this time. “Do not make me ask again.”

The alarm bells rang in her head. The softer tone that she had grown used to in the bath was gone in an instant, the sudden return of her Lady made the fine hairs on the back of her neck raise. She stared at her own reflection in the surface of the tea, distorted and rippling as her hand shook, liquid threatening to spill.

Swallowing tightly, she brought the cup to her mouth and drank deeply.

It was warm, but not too much so, having obviously sat for a short time. It was sweetened by the sugar cube, but bitter for the lack of milk. Medicinal in taste, something flowery, but cut through with a tang that made her nose scrunch. She meant to ask what kind of tea it was, but the thought shook loose before she could, and she blinked unsteadily over the rim of the cup at the Lady.

Alcina smiled at her. “Say ‘thank you’, little one.”

Her head felt fuzzy, tongue too big for her mouth, words stumbling a little. “T-Thank you.”

“‘Thank you, Mother’,” Alcina corrected, taking a sip of her own tea. “Manners are important, sweetheart. As is showing proper respect.”

Elena stared down at her teacup again, frowning as her vision seemed to waver slightly. She forced out a quick, quiet, “thank you, Mother.”

It was the strangest thing in the world, the exhaustion. A different sort of tiredness came over her than that which had claimed her in the bath. This was muscle and bone deep. She could feel it in the way her hand shook, the liquid in the cup sloshing, in the way it felt like her spine refused to let her sit up, her body feeling like lead. She leaned heavily back into the armchair, eyes blinking slowly.

Alcina watched her curiously over her own teacup. “Feeling sleepy, dragă?”

She muttered something unintelligible, struggling to keep her fingers wrapped around the handle of the teacup. It slipped slightly, a little of the remaining liquid splattering on the floor beside the chair. It startled a whine out of her.

“Silly girl,” Alcina tutted, leaning to take the cup from her slackening fingers. “Here—finish this, then to bed with you.”

Elena mumbled something, shaking her head. But Alcina wouldn’t allow her to refuse, hooking her finger into the girl’s bottom lip and pulling her mouth open gently. She poured the remaining liquid down the girl’s throat, purring in pleasure when the girl swallowed it.

“Mmf, no,” Elena whimpered, words slurring, making as if to bat at her. “I feel weird.”

Alcina shushed her gently, setting the empty teacup down and stroking a hand through her hair. Pleased when the girl leaned into it. “Shh, it’s already gone. You’re fine, little one. Just relax.”

The girl’s breathing was slowing already, sleep a tempting mistress.

Pleased by the effectiveness, Alcina reached out to scoop her up, carrying her over to the bottom of the bed. She chuckled slightly when the girl splayed bonelessly out on the covers, groaning. Blue eyes opened to slits at the sound, then swiftly drooped closed again.

Elena did let out a slight, fearful whimper when Alcina rucked up the bottom of her nightgown. But the Lady silenced her quickly.

“Hush, I’m just getting you ready for sleep, little one,” Alcina murmured, gently rubbing her stomach—the girl on her bed relaxing at the touch, seemingly without realizing it. “Don’t fight it. Mother will take care of you. Just sleep.”

The girl whined once more, an animal noise. But exhausted and fuzzy, not even she could resist the pull.

Humming to herself, Alcina readied the little girl for bed with an indulgent smile.

Chapter Text

“Mother?”

Alcina’s eyes slid away from the slumbering Elena, towards the door—where Bela hovered uncertainly, her two sisters ducking under her arm, eyeing the two of them with interested eyes.

“Come in, girls,” Alcina granted. “Quietly.”

Daniela was the first to break ranks, scrambling as quietly as she could to her mother’s bedside. She was by her mother’s side in a flash, leaning heavily on Alcina’s shoulder, peering down at her in awe. “Mother,” she purred, eyes wide, “can I touch her?”

“If you must,” Alcina sighed. “But gently. She fought for far too long, I’d hate to have to settle her again.”

Practically trembling with excitement, Daniela crawled around to settle on her knees beside the slumbering girl, peering closely at her face. When Elena made no move to wake up, she grinned, reaching out with a curious hand. She carded her fingers through soft red hair, then ran a finger over an eyebrow, a nose, across lips, then down her neck.

“Donna’s blend proved effective, Mother?”

Alcina’s hawklike gaze lifted from Daniela’s caresses to regard her eldest, who had settled on her knees on her other side. Bela was looking down at Elena with a tilted head, eyes calculating.

“Perhaps too much. I will halve the dosage next time,” Alcina replied. “Though I owe Donna thanks. The little one fought admirably at first, but it worked as promised.”

Cassandra cackled, bringing up the rear as she was the last to settle on the bed. “She’s so tiny,” she laughed, crawling further up the bed, half-straddling Alcina’s calf and the smaller girl’s legs. She leaned in, scenting the air. “And she even smells like a baby! I can’t wait to play with her.”

“It’s far too soon for that,” Alcina replied, warning written in her tone. “She won’t play with you until I deem her ready.”

Daniela pouted. “But Mother, we’ll be gentle—”

“I said no,” Alcina snarled, tempering her tone only when Elena whined softly in her arms, still under but fussing slightly. “We will talk about this later. For now, my word is final. You would all do well to remember that.”

Chastened, the three girls dipped their heads, a chorus of ‘Yes, Mother’.

“Very good, now gather the household,” Alcina said, smiling sharply. “I wish to speak with them about my newest daughter.”

As some form of awareness returned to her body, Elena stirred, shuffling. 

Not truly awake, but somewhere halfway between.

She was uncomfortably stiff, cotton-mouthed. Her legs were unable to find a comfortable position on her side, shifting restlessly. Her limbs still felt jellied, and she groaned as she wriggled into a more comfortable position; belly down, cheek turned to one side, arms splayed at her sides, legs spread.

Elena dwelled like that for an unknown period of time, half-sleep and content. The heavy blanket over her was nice, and at some point she bundled it over her head, snuggling into the warmth and enjoying being closed off from the world outside. It felt too terrifying to dwell on the Castle and what would happen next, so her fuzzy brain felt that hiding from it was the better option.

It was only when greater awareness inched across her that she started to whine. Distress, slowly building, as she processed something she had missed, something that hadn’t been there last night—a snug bulk around her hips and pressed between her thighs. With jerky arms, she struggled to reach downwards, probing. Then froze.

A hitched gasp escaped her, heart thundering.

“Ngh no, why—” her voice was barely a whimper, unsteady, as tears pricked at her eyes.

She refused to believe it, had no memories of it being placed on, but there was a diaper around her hips. It crinkled slightly beneath her hands, and her head span. Her emotions spiked, shifting rapidly between humiliation, violation, horror and fear. 

She had been drugged, she realized absently. A hazy memory of the Lady’s hands upon her returned, murky in her mind, but humiliating as she remembered businesslike hands around her stomach and thighs.

Suddenly, the safety of her dark little nest below the blankets didn’t feel so safe anymore. She felt like she was suffocating, the heavy blanket squeezing the air out of her, the darkness holding monsters with sharp teeth in wait. So, crying softly, she slowly shuffled beneath them, fighting to make her arms and legs cooperate. A wavering crawl was all she could manage, half-blinded with tears and the dark.

She had almost managed to make it to the end of the bed when the blankets were whipped back, startling her. The sudden assault of the light on her eyes was bright, and she stumbled forward with a hitching cry.

“Easy, little one,” Alcina soothed, grabbing her by the waist to keep her from tumbling to the floor. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Her brain was fuzzy, thoughts sluggish and syrupy. “Mmgh, whatareyoudoingtome?”

A warm chuckle was pressed into her skin, vibrating through her as Alcina dragged her closer, until she fit neatly into the curve of her hips and breasts. An indulgent hand came to rest on her stomach. “I gave you a nice bath and some well-needed rest, dragă. You were sleeping so peacefully. What’s got you so worked up?”

She shook her head, whining slightly.

The words failed to come, and she squirmed in the hold. She felt terrible, floaty and weak. Her muscles spasmed again when she tried to wiggle away, body jerky and unsteady, still wobbling like jelly. But between the stronger woman’s hold and her own weakness, she didn’t get far. All she could focus on was the diaper pressing into them both, crinkling loudly beneath her sheer nightdress.

“Stop fussing,” Alcina replied, smoothing a hand through her hair. “You’re fine.”

She whined again into the soft skin at the top of Alcina’s breasts, blinking slowly. She was unable to even find fault with the position, too trapped in her own sticky thoughts to fully process just what was going on. She felt seconds away from a panic attack, if only her body could find the energy to panic. Instead, she just squirmed, grumbling something unintelligible, fingers barely able to twist into the soft fabric of the Lady’s dress like a lifeline.

“Please,” she whispered into Alcina’s skin, shivering. “I don’t…understand…”

“Silly girl, you don’t need to understand. Just relax,” Alcina replied, cradling her close and watching her carefully. “We will take care of you, remember?”

She shook her head, tears slinking down her cheeks.

Why was the Lady doing this to her? What was her goal? Why her? It made no sense, she couldn’t puzzle the pieces together, her head too fuzzy to make sense of it. Hunting her, bathing her, drugging her? Making Elena call her Mother, then shoving her in a diaper, it just—

She sobbed again, louder.

“Hush, dragă,” Alcina soothed, wiping the tears away. “Why are you crying?”

She wanted to scream, shout, shake Lady Dimitrescu to explain

But, overwhelmed with it all, no words would come to her. Instead, she continued quietly crying, fussing again as she tried to push the woman’s hands away from her. She felt mortified down to her very bones by it all, made worse still by the sudden realization that not only was she wearing a diaper, it was wet.

The Lady seemed to come to the same realization, as fingers dipped down to probe cautiously at it. “Ah,” Alcina hummed aloud. “It’s perfectly normal for little ones. Nothing to cry about.”

That made it far worse, her sobs increasing in volume as she tried to struggle. “No—I’m not a—baby—”

“Calm down,” Alcina said, voice firming as she wrangled the girl’s limbs to stop her from pushing once more. “You need to relax so Mother can take care of you.”

“No,” she whimpered again. “Let me go! Let me go—”

Abruptly, she was released.

Elena fell practically on her face on the center of the bed, as the Lady released her with a growl. However, no sooner had she begun to try and force herself up, did the Lady grab her by the ankle. She was dragged down to the edge of the bed, her nightdress dragging up around her belly. She tried to fight back, but the Lady simply grabbed her kicking legs and held them with one hand.

“Stop with the tantrum, dragă,” Alcina snapped. “You’ll only tire yourself out.”

She had no intention of stopping any time soon, and so fought tooth and nail as much as her quaking body would allow. First trying to kick out at the older woman, but when that proved fruitless, trying to scramble backwards and away from her. Unfortunately, the Lady was much too strong, and neither option provided any measure of success.

True to her words, the Lady just let her squirm and fight, seeming deliberately unbothered by it all as she expertly manhandled her.

The struggle went on for a few minutes, during which Elena grew increasingly more stressed and more strength clawed its way back to her limbs. But ultimately, they both knew no amount of strength would liberate her. A fact Elena came to realize with a shuddering cry, falling still on the mattress.

“Are you quite done?”

Elena sobbed softly, but said nothing.

“Good,” Alcina replied, letting her legs slowly come back to the mattress, dangling off the edge of the bed as she stood between her thighs. “It would do you well to remember this, little one. Struggling will get you nowhere. Do you understand?”

Under the force of her gaze, Elena gave a reluctant, shaky nod.

Alcina hummed, eyeing her carefully. “I need to collect some things to clean you up. Do not move.”

Even if she wanted to pull a repeat of her escape, Elena wasn’t sure her legs would be able to carry her right now. They still struggled with the concept of trying to move in an orderly motion, let alone the idea of standing up. So, instead she squirmed to press her fists over her closed eyes and then lay there, pretending the world didn’t exist.

It was not hard, when the events of the last few hours felt so unbelievable.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised, drifting away from her to bustle around her room—opening and closing a few drawers on a nightstand, rifling around inside to grab a few items. She was humming softly to herself.

Elena shivered, stomach turning as she tracked the Lady’s movements around the room.

Her shivering became full-body trembling when the Lady returned to the bedside, nudging apart the legs that had drifted closed and slotting herself between them. A few items were set on the bed beside her, and Elena almost knocked them over in fright when the Lady touched her side, reaching for the tabs on the diaper.

“Hush,” Alcina soothed, briefly rubbing her hip with a reassuring thumb. “It will be over soon.”

And she did not lie.

As mortifying as it was, the Lady’s hands moved with surety and efficiency, lifting her up with ease to strip the wet diaper away. Elena swallowed a humiliated sob as the Lady cleaned her carefully, then spread a strange smelling cream on her. The sob of protest wasn’t able to be stifled, however, when the Lady lifted her again and placed a fresh diaper on her with brutal quickness.

Alcina smiled at her protests, briefly patting a hand on the clean diaper and making the girl whine. “I know, dragă, but it must be done. Such accidents are likely to be unavoidable with present circumstances, I’m afraid. And until you earn my trust, we will keep having to do this. Do you understand?”

She didn’t. She didn’t understand anything that was happening.

All she knew was that she should be dead—almost wished she was, now, in the face of whatever this was.

Her brain swam, struggling to cope with events: being hunted, forced naked into a bath with her employer, called a child and a sister, force fed tea that was probably drugged, and then being forced into a diaper. It was just—

“Shh,” Alcina hushed her again, shifting her up the bed so she could cradle the fussing girl in her arms. “You will be fine.”

Eventually, with the full force of the sun filtering through the drapes of the Lady’s chambers, Elena was startled out of her sleepy drifting in the crook of the Lady’s neck by a persistent grumbling in her stomach. A reminder that she hadn’t eaten since staff dinner the night before, which had to be more than half a day ago. 

Alcina chuckled. “Food, my love?”

She almost wanted to resist for the sake of it, but shook the thought away. The hunger was pervasive, and she couldn’t deny that she desperately needed the fuel. “Yes,” she whispered, then added a soft, “please.”

A disgustingly proud look came across Alcina’s face, as she patted Elena’s cheek softly. “Sweet girl,” she hummed. “Very well, let us get you ready and we can join your sisters for lunch.”

“Can I—” her voice wavered slightly. “Can I eat here? Please?”

The thought of being paraded through the Castle like this was humiliating enough that she almost died at the thought of it. Whatever drugs lingered in her system and made her so weak seemed to have worn off a little, and so she was able to lean back in the Lady’s hold, peering up at her face with her best pleading expression.

Alcina hummed, ambivalent. “I’m not in the habit of bending to other people’s whims, except perhaps my daughters if they ask nicely enough. You know this.”

Her heart raced.

She knew, implicitly, what the cost of the request would be. She struggled with making her mouth move, to speak over the mortification curling in her chest. So, she squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing all of her pride to ask. “Please, Mother.”

“So very clever,” the older woman hummed, cupping her cheek. “Ask me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Please, Mother,” she breathed. “May I eat here?”

Alcina smiled like the cat that got the cream, almost gleefully smug. “Very well, I suppose I can indulge you a little. But I must get you ready and dress you first, unless you wish to run around in your night things all day in front of the help?”

At least Elena could get on board with that. The nightdress she wore was sheer and short, showing far too much of the diaper for her taste—and again, the thought of it made her sick to her stomach. If one of her coworkers were to see her like this, a strange captive at the Lady’s twisted whim, she would throw herself from the roof. 

“Okay,” she agreed, allowing the Lady to lift her from her lap, setting her gently on the floor. 

Her legs wobbled unsteadily, but the hours passed since the tea had ebbed the effects, and she was able to keep her balance after a few moments. Only when she was able to stand straight, barely swaying, did the Lady’s hand on her hip let her go.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised again, rising past her with a soft pat to her head. She steered the smaller girl to the ensuite to prepare for the day. “Come along, dearest.”

It was a new experience to have somebody else brush her teeth for her.

Though her mother had certainly done it for her as a child, she couldn’t remember it. So, the way that Lady Dimitrescu scooped her up to sit on the vanity, smearing toothpaste over the brush and coaxing her mouth open was brand new. She bared the firm brushing with as much dignity as she could, even as the Lady tutted over the way some of the foam slipped messily down her chin. 

“Such a messy girl,” Alcina muttered, surprisingly good humored as she wiped at her chin with a flannel. “We must do something about that.”

And that was a loaded sentence and a half, as everything Elena had experienced in the last few hours screamed at her. But she refused to even try to unpack the meaning, in fear of a panic attack causing her to choke. 

She didn’t have much time to think on it, anyway, as the Lady brushed her tongue hard enough to make her gag. Then she glared at her, as if Elena was responsible for that. 

“Rinse,” the Lady said, handing her a small plastic cup she had filled with water.

She stared for a moment at the little cartoon bears on the outside, brain ringing an alarm bell. Where did she even get that, Elena wondered. As a kitchen maid, she had done all the dishes in the castle. She had never seen even a hint of plasticware, let alone so…childish.

Then, under Alcina’s pointed stare, she raised it to her mouth and swished obediently, then spat it into the sink.

The cup was snatched back and set aside. “Good.”

That done, the Lady decided that tackling her hair was next. Her red hair was slightly wavy, curling more around the temples where the strands usually hung free of the hair tie. However, instead of the pristine maid’s bun she was used to, it was brushed and then organized into loose waves around her shoulders. 

“You need a haircut,” Alcina said, observing the slight deadened ends with a critical eye. “Such pretty hair, but suffering for lack of care.”

She didn’t really know what to say to that, short of something that would get her in trouble. After all, it’s not like the maids of the castle had regular access to a hairdresser—many didn’t last long enough to warrant one, the rest made do with a shared pair of shears and their bathroom mirror. And as far as cleaning products went, soap bars were about as good as it got. 

Instead, she busied herself with staring up at the Lady’s face—something she had never been permitted to do in any ordinary situation.

She was unsure if the Lady slept, but somewhere in the passages of time that she had missed, the Lady had clearly prepared herself for the day. She wore one of her usual dresses, her makeup perfect as always, and her expertly styled hair was visible due to the lack of her customary hat. For someone who demanded perfection, it was unsurprising to Elena that the Lady rarely allowed anything less of herself.

It was hard to reconcile someone so pretty with a literal monster.

“You’re staring, darling,” Alcina said, but there was no bite to it—rather, she sounded only vaguely amused.

She spoke before she realized it. “Did you go somewhere while I was asleep?”

Alcina tucked a stray hair back behind Elena’s ear, almost affectionate. “Such a curious little girl I have.”

She ducked her head, chastened. 

“I attended to my duties and managed my staff, as I must,” Alcina replied, sounding very much bored by the matter. “Unfortunately, Mother’s many duties mean that she cannot always care for you herself. It takes a village, as they say.”

She did not like the implication that there would be someone else taking care of her in such a way. Though her Lady scared her—hot and cold, manipulative and controlling, cruel then affectionate—there was comfort in the familiarity. The idea of being in front of others in such a state was terrifying. 

“Your sisters will be responsible for your care in my absence,” Alcina said, catching the expressions flickering across her face. “Though, that will come with time. For now, you require most of Mother’s attention.”

That was worse, somehow—she could deal with Daniela maybe, and Bela was the most level-headed of the sisters, but Cassandra? She could hardly imagine the sadistic middle child as caring for her, unless that entailed stringing her up by her innards in the hallway for fun.

She worked her fists, nails digging into the thin cuts on her fingertips from the shattered porcelain the night before. There was no blood to be found, but a gentle stinging that helped remind her of where she was and what the costs were of being in the Dimitrescu family’s attention—like a mouse in a trap, the struggles interesting while the lasted, before one got bored watching and put it out of its misery.

Escape is the priority, she thought to herself. 

Despite the previous fear, an idea came to her—if the Lady could entrust her to her daughters, perhaps she could convince Daniela to play another game? Even if she no longer had the spare, all the daughters had a key. If she could coax it from the youngest daughter, then she stood a small hope of making it before the trap snapped shut.

A hand on her startled her from her thoughts, and she peered nervously up at the Lady, as if she could somehow read her thoughts. But she was merely lifted from the vanity by the waist, deposited onto the floor once again. She was proud, however, that her legs only slightly wavered before she caught herself. Then, she was immediately frustrated by her own pleasure. 

“Come, little one. I’ll call for food and then we will dress you.”

After ringing a bell to summon a maid, Lady Dimitrescu did not permit the maid entrance to the room. Mostly due to Elena’s fussing when she heard the knock on the door. Instead, with a warning look, she settled Elena on the edge of the bed and stepped outside in the hallway to discuss the matter of food.

Elena knew that there would be no escape for now. The Lady’s chambers were on the third floor, and though there was a window with a balcony, she did not fancy her chances of surviving the fall to the cobblestones below. Besides, she shuddered to think what would happen to her if the Lady caught her escaping again.

Instead, she turned her attention to inspecting the room, looking for any signs of something that could assist her escape.

Unfortunately, there was no magical spare key or ladder to help her. Nor a magical steed to ride into the sunset. There was only ornate furniture and decor, some slightly wilted roses in a vase, and a variety of makeup on the Lady’s vanity. Though, she did briefly consider the ropes that tied the curtains open, allowing the sun to peek inside—but then discarded it, as they were surely too short for any practical use.

Her mind raced, but she sat with her hands in her lap, trying to look like the picture of innocence and compliance when the Lady stepped back in the room.

The weight of the stare as the Lady’s eyes found her was heavy, immediately suspicious. However, with her eyes darting up and down her, then around the room, Lady Dimitrescu couldn’t say anything.

“Very good, dragă,” the Lady settled on instead. “Food will come soon. Let’s dress you in the meantime, yes?”

Elena dutifully rose up to join her in selecting clothes for the day. She was surprised when the second wardrobe was opened—in it, there was no collection of dresses or clothes suitable for the Lady’s size, but instead items tailored for someone of Elena’s. All manner of dresses and outfits in different colors, some more sedate and some childishly colored.

Staring, she wondered just how long the Lady had been planning this. Or, whether she was the first.

“I spared no expense,” Alcina said, perhaps misconstruing the look. “I’m sure there will be something that suits my daughter’s first day as a Lady of the House.”

Elena didn’t know what to think about that. The title was customarily given to her daughters, formal and stuffy, but one that the three of them wore with pride. She couldn’t fathom what Lady Dimitrescu wanted of her with this whole affair, but being named as Lady of the House was far from what she expected.

She did not dwell on it, as before long the Lady had plucked an outfit of choice and turned to her. “Arms up.”

More familiar with the routine after the bath, she only hesitated briefly before raising them above her head. She was rewarded with an affectionate touch to her head, then the nightdress was pulled off of her. 

In the light of the day, the exposure felt much worse somehow than it had the night before. Especially because she had been given no bra last night, and so she tried to desperately cover her small breasts with her hands, whining. She was not sure what mortified her more, her chest being naked beneath the Lady’s gaze or the diaper being bared to the world.

Struggling to fight back the tears, she obediently allowed the Lady to pull her arms away.

“There’s no need to hide from Mother,” Alcina said, perhaps in a way that was meant to be reassuring but only felt menacing instead. “You’re very pretty, darling. No need to be shy.”

She was given no underwear, in consideration of the humiliating alternative she already wore, that she saw no reason to be wearing—she certainly did not intend to use it. Neither was she given a bra, despite her whimpering. Instead, she was dressed in another dress, longer and thicker than the nightdress.

By the time the food arrived with a knock at the door, the Lady had just shepherded her into the same armchair as last night. She finished rolling the fluffy socks up her calves and slipping a pair of house slippers onto Elena’s feet—they were, to her disgust, extremely comfortable.

While the Lady busied herself with the door, Elena stared in horror at the floor.

She expected to see last night’s spilled tea dried to the wood floors, but there was nothing there—not even a drop to suggest that clumsy fingers had poured tea across the floorboards. Rather, it spoke to the meticulous attention of whichever house maid had cleaned it up.

Someone was here.

The realization was enough to make her almost hysterical, but she pressed it in physically, hands over her mouth to smother the panic that tried to stoke itself in her chest. Someone saw me like…this. She swallowed thickly. Tears built in her eyes unbidden and it took all her effort to fight them back.

Despite her discomfort, she knew tears would not help her here. So, with great difficulty, she forced herself into a familiar, distant sense of calm. The same mute, blank way she had felt far too often since coming to the castle. The feeling was cold, like plunging into ice water, but it drowned out the parts of her that wanted to scream. 

She almost impressed herself when her hands dropped back to her lap, no sobs or tears escaping. She hid the fine trembling of her fingers under her thighs, fisting the hem of her dress instead just for something to hold. 

“I asked the cook to prepare something for you,” Alcina explained, returning to her side with the covered tray, setting it on the side table. “She prepared some of your favorites.”

Elena spoke, her voice distant to her own ears. “Thank you.”

When the lid was pulled from the steaming tray, she stared sightlessly through it. It was objectively appetizing, a variety of dishes that she’d usually crave desperately arranged like a sampling platter. But not even the sight of the steaming papanași coated in fresh cream and berries could entice her. She was no longer hungry. Content just to be…numb, floaty.

She reached out by instinct for the fork, only for the Lady to grab it first and bat her hand away. The movement didn’t even make her flinch, just flicking her eyes up to the Lady’s face, blinking slowly and breathing calmly.

“Open,” Alcina said, spearing a sauce-coated chiftele on the tines and holding it up.

Where she expected some token resistance, the Lady appeared surprised by the abrupt placidness in the girl’s demeanor as her mouth opened immediately. There was a pinch to Alcina’s brow, despite the great care she took as she fed her, bite by bite.

She eyed the mechanical way the girl ate: open, chew, swallow, never meeting Alcina’s eye contact and never fussing, just accepting. The submission was sudden and suspicious, flying in the face of all the whining and crying she had come to expect. The hollowness of it did not please her as it should.

There was a glaze to Elena’s eyes, the Lady noted, not dissimilar to when she had sampled the tea blend the night before—

Abruptly, the fork clattered loudly to the tray, and Alcina crowded in on her in an instant.

“I want you with me,” Alcina snarled, grasping her sharply by the chin, face a mere inch from Elena’s. Her eyes burned, the pupils swallowing gold like an eclipse. “Pay attention.”

Startled by the abrupt closeness and rough treatment, Elena gasped and cringed in the hold, trying to shrink away. The calming water rushed away from her head, as her ears filled with the pounding of her own heart. Without critical thought, her hands flew up, trying to pry at the iron fingers.

But the grip on her chin was a vice, forcing their eyes to lock. To connect.

“There she is,” Alcina purred, something predatory in her tone. She drank in the way that blue eyes cleared, then turned well-water dark with fear. “Where did you run to, dragă?”

She stuttered. “I—I—”

Alcina squeezed a little harder, warning. “Give me your words, darling.”

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to look away from the woman hovering menacingly in front of her. She babbled on, “I just—I get cold, fuzzy, sometimes, like being underwater. It’s…nice.”

“Listen to me,” Alcina’s words were firm. “You are not to run from me unless I permit it.”

Elena stared up, wordless.

The hand tightened fractionally. “You are my daughter. You are mine. Do you understand?”

She nodded as best she could with the hand on her chin, and then just as abruptly as it started, the moment was over. She was released.

Alcina leaned back into her own larger armchair, planting her chin on her palm to watch Elena carefully come back to life, unable to still the shaking in her hands. “I know it can be overwhelming, little one,” Alcina began, soft in contrast to the previous harshness. “But Mother is here to protect you, remember?”

God, she was going to die in this castle.

In contrast to the previous calm of that underwater feeling, now she felt like she was drowning. Gasping slightly for breath, tears streaking in hot lines down her cheek. It was messy crying, ugly; for what had happened and for fear of what could—fear of who the Lady intended her to become, a daughter, by whatever means necessary and to unknown ends.

“Such an emotional little girl,” Alcina observed, watching the breakdown with interest. “I don’t recall you whining half as much when you toddled around my halls, hm?”

She gnashed her teeth, fury and fear dueling like living things in her chest. “Do you think I want to be like this? Why are you doing this to me?”

The Lady sat up straight, eyes hot but otherwise unmoving. “I will allow your disrespect,” she said, slowly, carefully, “because you are not in your right mind.”

“What difference does it make?” Elena sobbed. “You’ll kill me anyway.”

“I have told you, I do not intend to kill you,” Alcina replied, annoyance blustering through. “But I do intend to discipline you, so watch your words. Have I not been good to you?”

Elena shook her head through the tears. “I don’t want this—”

“Your petty wants mean little to me, dearest. They are things tainted by your old life,” Alcina pressed, drawing the metaphorical line in the sand—a division between who she was and who she was becoming. “You do not need to understand it, but you need to accept it. You are a Dimitrescu now. My youngest, most undisciplined daughter. And I will shape you into a young lady worthy of your new status.”

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Why me?”

“Because I chose you. From the moment you came here, you were mine.”

She sobbed again. “I want to go home.”

“You are home.”

She shook her head aggressively. Her home was a tiny house in the village, freezing in the winter but full of handmade trinkets and blankets, with the beautiful gravestones of her parents, her real parents, in the little garden beyond. It was not here, as a plaything for a woman with, apparently, more money than sense.

With a sigh, the Lady lifted the lid of the tray and placed it back over the remaining scraps on the plate. “I grow tired of your tantrum, little one. I think perhaps I have spoiled you with this. You will join your sisters and I for dinner tonight in the dining hall—I suspect this will help you learn your place in the family.”

“No, please,” she cried. “I don’t want—”

“We have been through this already. Your wants do not matter,” Alcina replied, leaving the tray on the table and standing from the armchair. She reached for Elena, ignoring the crying girl’s flinch, and lifted her to balance on her hip. “Come, let’s go introduce you properly to your sisters.”

Chapter Text

If the Lady were at all inclined to let her walk on her own, Elena’s mouthiness had removed any possibility of her being extended that olive branch. So, instead, she was subjected to the humiliation of being carried like a naughty child through the halls. She cringed and squirmed, head turning to try and catch sight of any wayward staff.

It was a small mercy that she spotted none. Elena suspected largely due to the maids’ tendency to make themselves scarce at the sound of the Lady’s imposing footsteps. When it came to the attentions of their employers, the most successful maids vacillated between the mindsets of better seen and not heard and out of sight, out of mind.

Regardless, it did not stop her whining and pleading. “Please, I don’t want to meet them! I want to go back.”

“No,” the Lady answered simply.

Her remaining pleas went unanswered, ignored as she was carried like a doll across the castle. 

Eventually, Elena grew to recognize the turns with a growing horror. Halls she had worked in, and ran through, the night before.

She recognized the daughters’ wing before they stepped into it. Despite the objective beauty of the halls, it was a place she was sure would haunt her nightmares—as, indeed, most of the castle probably would. The hall was as pristine as she had left it, hours ago. Probably cleaner, actually, for the remains of the shattered vase had been swept clean and a new one had been erected, filled to the brim with red roses.

“Hush,” Alcina said, eventually, silencing her sniffling. “You do want to make a good impression, don’t you?”

She shook her head mutely—she wanted to make no impression.

She wanted to disappear. She wanted to curl up and cower under a bed somewhere, like a dog who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t. She definitely did not want to meet her new ‘sisters’, who were more likely to carve her up than anything else. They had been scary enough to her as a mere maid, now as this—

“Please,” she whispered again, lowly. Then, despite the stomach churn it caused, tried to appeal to the Lady’s ego. “Please, Mother.”

There was a flash of a smile, pleased and amused in equal measure. One of the hands holding her to her hip squeezed slightly, almost with affection. “No,” she repeated, unrepentant. “But a good try, darling.”

They made their way to a drawing room in the middle of the daughter’s wing. It was, in a bygone era, what may once have been called a play room when the castle hosted much younger inhabitants. It had been retrofitted with plush armchairs and sofas, a low table and a bar tucked into the corner. It looked like the sort of place that well-to-do young ladies had tea and gossiped together.

So, the three women dressed in black, sipping crimson from wine glasses and giggling were close enough.

“My darling girls,” Alcina announced, stooping through the doorway. “I’ve come to formally introduce you to the little one.”

In an instant, all attention snapped to them. 

Elena sat frozen against the Lady’s hip. She was hiked up slightly, and she desperately tried to stop the shudder of revulsion as her diaper crinkled slightly. She was glued protectively to the larger woman’s side, but slightly tilted so she could see the three girls eyeing her with interest. She stiffed noticeably as the door was shut behind her, sealing her fate.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Bela was the first to greet, inclining her head first to the Lady, then, surprisingly, to Elena. “Hello, sister.”

The title surprised her, and from the amused quirk to Bela’s lip, she was sure it showed on her face.

Alcina squeezed her leg. “It’s good manners to reply when addressed.”

“I—” her voice faltered briefly, coming out a little croaky from all the crying. “Hello, Lady Bela.”

Daniela let out a high pitched, tittering laugh. “Hello, Lady Bela,” she mocked the eldest sister, setting her wine glass down and standing up in a flash. She approached Elena with a too-wide grin, craning her head up to take her in. Her eyes were lidded, like a lazy cat. “Hello again, baby sister. You lost our game.”

She swallowed tightly, resentment forming a lump in her throat. “Hello, Lady Daniela.”

“No, no, little sister, you know that’s not it,” Daniela singsonged.

Alcina watched the two youngest like a hawk, but made no move to intervene—Elena was on her own.

“D-Daniela?” 

Again, the cheeky grin and shaking head. “C’mon, silly. You know the right answer.”

With a sinking stomach, she recognized the same thread in her tone as Lady Dimitrescu’s—the one she had when she demanded she call her something else entirely, to give in to the power that they had over Elena. Despite her behavior, Daniela was startlingly like the Lady in that moment.

She curled her fingers tighter in Alcina’s dress. “…Big sister?”

The response was a buzz of pleasure so loud, Daniela visibly lost her form for a moment, flies hazing around her edges before they settled back in again. “Yes,” she shuddered almost indecently, laughing with excitement as she reached up a hand to touch Elena’s knee, making the girl yelp. “You’re the youngest now!”

Alcina waved a few stray flies away. “Daniela, give the little one space.”

The older redhead was already halfway across the room in a flash, dissolving into a deluge of flies and reappearing on the sofa next to her middle sister. She still giggled to herself, kicking her legs happily. Excitement at finally not being the youngest was pouring off of her in waves.

However, when no third greeting came, Elena’s attention was forced to the middle child.

Cassandra just watched her, legs crossed and one arm thrown across the back of the sofa she and Daniela now shared. Her wine glass in hand, crimson swirling slowly, too thick to be only wine. There was a coy smile on her face, the sort one got from watching their favorite show, but just a fraction mocking.

She was waiting, Elena realized.

“Hello,” she bit out, when Alcina squeezed her thigh to prompt her. “Lady Cassandra.”

The brunette just smiled wider, feral, like a cheshire cat. There was blood between her teeth, a trickle of it at the corner of her lip. “No ‘big sister’ for me? Aw, are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

Despite the alarm bells ringing in her head, Elena managed to scowl at her. Instead, she turned her head back to the Lady, leaning more deliberately into the crevice of her shoulder to shut the middle child’s laughter out.

Surprised, but pleased, Alcina cupped the back of her head. “Don’t tease your little sister, Cassandra.”

Cassandra just smiled, unrepentant. “Yes, Mother. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Rather than deeming the meeting successful and leaving, as Elena desperately hoped she would, Alcina instead moved forward towards a large armchair. She lifted Elena by the hips, sitting down and then settling the girl on her lap sideways, arms coming to wrap around her middle instead like the bars of a cage.

Elena floundered under the attention, pinned between the Lady’s hold and the burning attention of the daughters’ gazes.

“Would you care for some wine, Mother?”

The Lady beckoned, and Bela rose to quickly retrieve a wine glass and fill it with wine from the decanter on the small bar pressed into the corner. She slotted it into the Lady’s waiting hand. “Thank you, Bela.”

The eldest preened under her praise, returning to the armchair to their right. Unlike Daniela’s erratic bouncing or Cassandra’s lithe relaxation, Bela sat with perfect poise and took a measured, precise sip of her own glass.  

“Your sister will be joining us for dinner this evening,” Alcina announced into the ensuing silence. “I expect you all to be on your best behavior. You included, little one.”

Elena glanced up, meeting the Lady’s eyes—a warning, or rather a reminder, burned in them. It told her that the Lady expected her to be present, no running, no tantrums. It was the look one gave a child who had been trying their patience.

Daniela tittered. “Is she a naughty girl, Mother?”

“She’s certainly taking her time to settle down, though it is early days,” Alcina replied, speaking as if Elena wasn’t there and as if her cheeks weren’t turning furiously red. “I expect that there will be an ongoing requirement for Donna’s assistance for the time being. Though the side effects—”

Elena frowned, thinking hard—it was a name she didn’t recognize, but spoken with gravitas like it was very important.

Before she realized it slipped, she was speaking. “Who’s Donna?”

A moment of silence passed.

All of the girls were frozen, looking frantically between Elena and Lady Dimitrescu. 

“Oh,” Cassandra suddenly leaned forward, eager. 

Alcina looked down at Elena slowly, when she spoke there was a flash of what might have been fangs in her mouth. Her eyes burned with a hard light, one that froze every inch of Elena’s body with panic. “Do not interrupt Mother while she is talking.”

“Someone’s angry,” Daniela stage-whispered, loud in the sudden quiet.

Snarling, Alcina gave her a look no less fierce than the one she gave Elena, not relaxing until Daniela cowered slightly under the intensity of it. “That goes double for you, Daniela.”

“Yes, Mother!”

Turning her eyes back down, she met Elena’s eyes again with lingering ferocity, awaiting a reply.

She could feel the flush down her neck. She whispered a soft, “Yes, Mother.”

“Now,” Alcina began again, turning her eyes to her eldest. “All preparations were completed, yes?”

Bela puffed up with importance under Alcina’s gaze, nodding. “Yes, Mother, everything is ready. The staff have just finished. Will the little one be given a…traditional menu tonight?”

Elena’s head shot up, alarmed at what that could mean. She gazed between a reserved Bela and a positively grinning Cassandra, and decided that it whatever it was did not bode well—she had sudden, intrusive flashes of being served the family’s usual diet, and the thought had her turning green around the edges and her blood turning to ice.

She whined softly, a raw and animal noise of distress.

It took all she had to remain present, to not slip back into the raging waters of her own head. 

“Can I trust you to be obedient tonight?”

Elena’s eyes darted back to the Lady’s, blinking widely. “Yes,” she gasped. “I promise!”

“A traditional menu,” Alcina decided, before pausing and looking down at Elena in her lap with a half-smile, a peculiar edge to it. “Though, do instruct them to prepare the alternative, just in case.”

Cassandra’s chuckle told Elena everything she needed to know about what the alternative was—namely, that she did not want to find out. The dark sound made the fine hairs at her neck raise, with all the prickling with awareness of a prey animal in the sight of a predator.

She shivered, something Alcina felt, if the way the arms tightened around her was any indication.

Bela nodded. “Yes, Mother, as you say.”

The matriarch of the family waved off any platitudes, cocking her head to observe the room full of daughters. “Now, girls, tell me of your plans for the day.”

Elena let the words of the conversation wash over her, keeping only the token half-ear Alcina required on it. Instead, she busied herself with playing with the intricate embroidery on the hem of her dress—done by an expert hand, she mused, likely procured from the Duke as the Lady’s tailor was more accustomed to dressmaking than the precise needlework.

She studiously avoided Cassandra’s scorching gaze or Daniela’s manic one, easy enough when she was angled towards Bela. The eldest daughter was watching her, of course, but she seemed more interested in the Lady’s approval than Elena’s, which suited her just fine. 

Her attention snapped back as Cassandra droned on about her day, her eyes finally leaving Elena to close with an almost rapturous expression as she explained in graphic detail how they had captured and extracted a ‘useless maid’. The words had her stifling a whimper, thoughts of her own fate at first, then wondering if that maid was Adela, if they had found out about her assistance—

Alcina expressed her approval, but dipped her head down to look at the dreadful pallor to Elena’s face. “You did well, Cassandra,” Alcina said, reaching out to grasp Elena’s hand in her own gloved one, the size of it practically dwarfing her own. “But it appears the topic may be a little too much for our little one.”

The brunette accepted the praise with a coy smile, but then cackled. “She’s such a little baby, isn’t she?”

The comment made her ears burn, but she kept her head stubbornly down, staring instead at the hand wrapped up in her own. She tried to pull it free gently, desperate to fidget for something else to focus on, but there was little give. The Lady just ran her thumb absently in circles over Elena’s inner wrist.

“She is,” Alcina agreed easily, much to Elena’s mortification. “So do spare the finer details, darling. I don’t wish her to suffer night terrors tonight.”

“Will she even remember anything at night?” Cassandra laughed, mocking. “Donna’s blend has her so messed up, she can’t even hold her own bladd—”

“Cassandra!” Alcina bellowed, sharp.

The sudden shadow of something came over the room, and Elena’s mind short circuited. 

She squeezed her eyes shut in terror, her heart hammering so hard in her chest that it threatened to give out.

She could feel the threat, prickling along the edges of her awareness. Something in the tone of the Lady’s voice, growling distortion that layered over itself, scratching over something primal in Elena’s hindbrain. Felt it, too, in the way the Lady stiffened beneath her, the hand over hers gripping almost hard enough to break it.

The room felt cold.

Her lungs froze on the inhale, catching with a sharp, fearful whimper.

She was crying, she realized, tears somehow cold against her cheeks and dragging like icicles.

Somewhere in a distant part of herself, she was aware of her bladder releasing, pure animal instinct in the face of a predator beyond human comprehension. But she couldn’t even process it through the fear.

“You would do well to remember, daughter,” Alcina spat, voice two-toned and dripping with disdain, “that my patience for your antics only goes so far. Perhaps you would hold your tongue better if I ripped it out.”

Even Cassandra couldn’t disregard that tone, baring her throat up—a position her sisters matched—as she averted her eyes from her mother’s own burning ones. “Yes, Mother,” she conceded, sitting straighter under the heavy gaze. “I am sorry!”

In another life, maybe she could have appreciated the shameful, fearful tone in Cassandra’s voice as sweet revenge.

But in that one, all Elena could do was go limp in her lap like a dog with jaws around its throat, eyes squeezed shut and crying silent tears. 

The silence raged like an inferno for an eternity, until Elena was lightheaded from the lack of air, then longer still. But she didn’t dare take a breath, didn’t dare open her eyes. 

“I hope you are happy with yourself,” Alcina said, finally, the thickness in the room receding.

She shifted Elena’s submissively limp body upwards, cradling the lolling head with a gentle touch that didn’t match at all with the hint of a growl still in her voice. She busied herself with tucking Elena close to her, draping her arms over Alcina’s shoulders in a hug, pressing the shivering girl close to her and her head back into her neck, much like she had in the bath the night before. 

Abruptly released from the limb-locking pressure, the three older daughters were breathing similarly heavily, Cassandra most of all. Really and truly chastened, as she ducked her head further to avoid Alcina’s gaze. A broken record, she repeated softly, “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“We will speak of this later. Privately.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Alcina’s eyes carved across the room, settling back on Bela. “I entrust her punishment to you.”

Cassandra bristled. “Mother—”

“Silence!” Alcina hissed, mindful of the girl in her neck trembling like a leaf. “It is done, Cassandra. Be thankful that I am too busy cleaning up your mess to do it myself.”

The brunette fell silent, cowed, glaring sharply at the floor.

Bela’s nod was slow. “I will handle it, Mother.”

“Good girl.” Alcina stood, supporting the girl glued to her front by a forearm tucked under her thighs. “I will see you all at dinner.”

Somehow, she was in the bath again.

Elena didn’t fully come to until hot, warm water was pouring over her scalp. A low, squeaky noise escaped her, but words wouldn’t come to her lips, she just sat there bowing her head forward as a hand cupped over her forehead to keep the soap away from her eyes. Her legs were tucked up tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them.

“Do not be scared, little one,” Alcina murmured against her back. 

She was shivering still, despite the almost overwhelming heat of the water on her skin. She just let out a half-choked, fearful noise.

With the conditioner run out of her hair, the larger hands came instead to rest gently on her shoulders, trying to work some of the tension out of the trembling girl’s frame. “I did not wish to frighten you so,” the voice seemed to contain some genuine regret. “Your sister misspoke, and had to be punished.”

Cassandra’s words played over and over in her head. Mortifying as they were, she felt wrung out emotionally and physically, unable to truly absorb them. The last day had been far too much, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep and never wake up.

“Those girls require a…firmer hand than you, Cassandra especially so,” Alcina continued, fingers fanning across her naked shoulder blades, almost long enough to wrap around her whole back. “I love them dearly, but sometimes it is all they understand.”

And she understood that, objectively—whatever the Dimitrescu family was, it was something far different to her, that much was obvious enough by their diet of choice and their unusual abilities. Their mentalities too, free from human ethics completely, as had been made more than obvious. They were all forces of nature, primal in a way; territorial, violent by nature, ceding only to the strongest.

It did not mean it was not utterly terrifying to have witnessed.

Alcina stroked a finger down the soft bumps of her spine. “You were not in danger.”

Elena let go of her stiff legs, instead dragging her fingers through the scented water, popping a few bubbles. She wanted to reply, but the words lived and died in her throat. 

The ensuing silence was heavy, uncomfortable, but not so heavy as the one that had physically pressed her down. 

Despite the very primal fear that had taken up residence somewhere in her chest, she submitted herself quietly to the gentle cleaning, finding comfort in the familiarity of the Lady’s touches on her. The gentle affection, the care, was something she had not had since her parents died. Maybe not even before that. 

Eventually, as long minutes drifted by in silence, she began to relax. The trembles eased, then slowly stilled completely.

She should be scared, would certainly be again later when the rational part of her brain was functioning again. But in the moment, even her frantic heart had tired itself out, only beating sedately as she absently played with the bubbles. 

Just for now, she was tired of jumping at shadows.

So, despite the prideful parts of her that coiled with revulsion, she succumbed.

“Mm,” Elena allowed an approving hum to slip from her lips, eyes lidded, as firm hands slowly rubbed backwards and forwards with a washcloth on her back. The scrubbing was firm but careful, and the scent of the soap was rosy, similar to the Lady’s familiar perfume. “S’nice.”

There was a long pause, until she whined and the cloth returned to massaging circles into her skin.

“I do not apologize for what I must do,” Alcina said softly into the silence, careful not to break the peaceful mood that had descended. “The role of a mother is disciplinarian and protector both. It is my job to instill fear of consequence in you all, to keep you safe.”

She turned the words over in her head, thoughtful.

It was hard to find fault with the intention, but she found it too bittersweet to indulge in the words of someone who even now kept Elena captive to her strange whims. Instead, she allowed those sticky thoughts to creep from her head, focused only on the way the soft touches kept her warm and comfortable.

A curiosity did come to her though, a small lick of boldness. “Will Cassandra’s punishment be…?”

“Bela dotes on her sisters far too much, but listens to my words above all. The punishment will be appropriately harsh,” Alcina admitted, slotting closer to her back and reaching around her to run the washcloth over Elena’s arms. “But all will be well, do not worry about your older sister. She is resilient. The pain is only temporary—and she quite enjoys it, unfortunately, which I fear only fuels her misbehaviors.”

She didn’t know what to do with that, the long suffering implication in the Lady’s tone about the suggestion of violence enticing—

No, she decided, best not dwell on that too deeply.

“Will she be mad at me?”

“No, it is her own mouth that earned her a punishment.” The washcloth stroked over her belly. “Despite her attitude, I assure you that Cassandra was excited to have you. She just struggles with the plight of being the middle child, I suspect.”

Elena peeked backwards, inquisitive and probing.

“Nosy thing,” Alcina rolled her eyes, good-naturedly. “Bela is very much my daughter, my heir, for a reason. She takes the most after me, and consequently assists me much more than her sisters. I’m sure you knew that.”

And she did, nodding slightly.

As a maid, Lady Bela’s staff rotation had been the most preferable of the three—her maids rarely disappeared to the cellars or received senseless scars for perceived misdemeanors. She was the sedate, level-headed one of the family. All issues of staffing fell under Bela’s domain, unless the Lady’s attention was needed.

“And Daniela, she is…” Alcina seemed to struggle for a neutral term. “The most excitable of my daughters. She required a lot of attention as I reared them, and I fear Cassandra may have suffered for it. She runs her mouth for my attention, positive or negative.”

That sounded horrible—an insight into the Dimitrescu family dynamics she hadn’t possibly considered, would have never known about as an outsider looking in. Only inducted into the truth now, as the newest fledgling in their flock; sheep among wolves.

She sat silently after that, processing for far too long, as Alcina finished off cleaning her.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, eventually, as the bath water drained and she was coaxed into standing. With the security of the water and the warmth gone, the pleasant submission had drained out of her. Instead she stood, red as a lobster from both hot water and the sudden realization of her nakedness.

Alcina just smiled, whatever vulnerability she had as she spoke about her family wiped away. In its place, the familiar and not at all reassuring flash of teeth.

“I do enjoy the challenge, dragă. I’m excited for your first family dinner tonight.” Alcina’s smile grew further, nothing nice in it. “Do not forget the promise you made.”

“Ow, fuck you!”

Daniela sat on the cellar stairs, face planted on her chin, cringing at each loud and resounding cry.

It wasn’t particularly that she wanted to listen to her older sister being punished—because Cassandra was downright filthy at the best of times—but she was morbidly curious about just what her eldest sister had planned for the middle child.

Bela’s hand was rarely forced, and most often on Daniela than Cassandra. Usually it was Mother doling out her punishments, because they all knew that Cassandra did it just to rile their mother up on purpose.

“Bela, god damn it!” There was another loud noise, the splatter of liquid on cobblestone, and a low moan. “Oh fuck—”

Cassandra was panting and whining, chained wrists rattling above her head with each full-body jerk. She was soaking wet, literally, from the cool water that had been tossed on her. The flies didn’t like the cold, and so the regeneration was slower and containing the swarm so she couldn’t escape the chains.

Her dress had been hitched up slightly to bare her calves and thighs, which were awash with blood.

“You fucking pervert,” Cassandra moaned, as another slash opened up from her inner thigh to her knee. “Nngh!”

The sickle carving into her flesh was Cassandra’s own, her favorite, polished and fresh from the armory. Bela had forced her to retrieve it herself, taking it from her like a shiny trophy. Just because it would make her squirm.

A cruel mistress, her older sister was.

Another slash, this one biting deeper into the meat of her thigh. “Ah, shit, shit, fucking—”

Her eyelids fluttered, rolling back.

“Do you have to moan so much?” Bela asked, genuinely pained as she swung. “At least pretend this is a punishment, for my sake.”

Just to annoy her sister more, Cassandra let out a louder, syrupy moan at the next slash. “Mm, Bela!” 

That produced a full body, revolted shudder. “I’m going to need a shower after this.”

“Me, ah, too,” Cassandra purred, a lick of drool and blood at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were heated, pupils blown wide enough to eclipse any color in the tiny slivers. She whined, shuffling her legs and wincing at the pain. “Keep—ah, keep going.”

Bela paused, bloodied blade held aloft. “You’re so disgusting.”

“I know,” Cassandra moaned at the reflection of herself in its edge, hair wild and biting her lip. “Now do it again. Please.”

With that, Daniela wisely decided that she was done watching. She sped up the stairs, slamming the cellar door loudly behind her to try and drown out the wanton moaning.

Chapter Text

True to her words, Elena did not let the sliver of concession that had come over her in the bath to linger. In fact, free of the adrenaline slump and the hot bathwater, she felt embarrassed by how quickly she gave in. So, when Alcina had bundled her out to the bedroom and began the process of trying to trap her in another diaper, she was far from complacent. 

“Get out of there. Now.”

The Lady took a few steps closer, footfalls heavy in the silence, the hem of her robe dragging on the floor slightly.

She remained stubbornly silent, curled up far out of the Lady’s reach. 

The house maids had done their job well, because there was barely a speck of dust under the bed with her. She wondered how they even cleaned there. Did they crawl under on their bellies like she did? She had a mental image of Lady Dimitrescu holding the oversized bed above her head with one arm while the maids scrambled to mop the floor. It was an absurd thought, perhaps a mark of the struggling grip on her sanity—and despite the situation, she gave a wobbly laugh. 

The Lady’s voice came, harsh. “I am not laughing, child.”

Chills rolled down her spine, not just because she still wore only an oversized towel, her hair wet around her shoulders.

Though it was more moderate than the sheer nightmare that she’d experienced earlier, there was still menace and punishment written between the lines of the Lady’s words. It was monumentally stupid, but if the Lady intended to treat her like a child, perhaps she would act like one. 

Besides, the Lady had sworn she would not hurt her, had seemed serious enough about it in a way Elena couldn’t really understand. Despite having seen many maids meet their ends in the house in the last many months, she somehow believed that those words held true. She may have drugged her and imprisoned her, but by her own words, she wouldn’t submit her to the same firm hand as her other daughters.

So, with her sense of self-preservation down for maintenance, she fully and knowingly made a bad decision. Not resistance bred by fear, at least not solely, but by choice.

Instead of sliding out, apologizing reluctantly and faking compliance so she could make the Lady’s threats stop, she instead chose the path of most resistance. Like a stubborn teenager, pushing back against their parent’s rules just to see how far they could make them bend.

She crawled further on her belly, until she was right up against the wall, beyond the reach of any grabbing hands or slashing claws. Then, she pointedly and deliberately dragged the edge of the towel over the top of her head. 

The voice came through, muffled by the towel. “You will not like the consequences of toying with me, darling.”

“I don’t need it,” Elena hissed, curling up in the towel like an angry kitten. “I’m not wearing it.”

There was silence to her reply, overwhelming and pervasive. 

She curled up tighter in the towel, alarm bells ringing somewhere primal in her brain.

Then there was a shuffling, the sound of something meeting the floor.

She dared to peek, then her eyes grew wide with horror.

Eyes, glowing brightly, peered in at her.

“Little mouse,” the Lady purred, nothing nice in her tone. There was an almost feral look to her then, predator recognizing prey. “Come out, while some of my patience still holds.”

Elena looked carefully into those hypnotizing eyes.

And carefully, slowly, enunciated.

“No.”

Bela and Cassandra both froze at the sound of distant smashing and shouting.

Despite the way the half-healed cut on her lip tore and oozed, Cassandra found it in her to give her older sister a winning smile. “Well, well,” she cackled. “Guess I’m not the only one being punished tonight.”

Bela slowly ran a hand down her face. “I must inform the kitchen staff of the menu change.”

“Aw, and leave me all alone?” Cassandra said, doe-eyed and positively sinful. She licked the blood from her lip. “However will I cope?”

She summarily gasped, jerking against the chains. “Fuck—warn me next time!”

Bela set the emptied bucket down, standing clear of the dripping ice water as her sister whined like a sodden dog and tried to shake the waterlogged hair out of her eyes. “Shut up, Cassandra.”

Despite her shivers and whines, Cassandra’s laughter followed Bela as she swarmed up the stairs.

Elena screamed as the bed was dragged aside.

The Lady bellowed as she yanked it away with her hands, forcing it nearly halfway across the room in the time it took for Elena to blink. The side table was knocked aside in the move, one of the legs splintering sharply. The vase on top jerked, hit the floor and smashed.

She scrambled away, forgoing the towel and ignoring her nakedness in favor of pure, unadulterated terror.

“Come here, little mouse,” the Lady purred, darkness in the sound. “Before Mother gets angry.”

Yeah, no. Elena had absolutely no intention of doing that.

In fact, she vaulted over the remaining side table to dodge the Lady’s reaching hands, just barely slipping by. She had always been inclined to flight over fight, and her brain was screaming at her to escape. 

She practically flew over to the door, grasping the large handle and pulling.

It did not budge.

The door was locked.

She tugged it again, desperately. “Fuck!”

“Tut, tut,” Alcina’s hair was loose around her shoulders, disheveled and wet from the bath. Her eyes blazed, shining from behind a few inky strands. She stepped through the shattered remains of the vase, uncaring as blood dripped from her bare feet. “Mother needs to find something to silence that mouth of yours.”

She span, eyes darting for help around the room—and finding nothing but an approaching beast. 

“S-Stay back!”

A low, mocking laugh dripped from the Lady’s lips. “I thought you would at least make it to dinner before I had to punish you, pet.”

Oh fuck.

Elena scurried away as fast as she could, climbing over the bed that had been tossed to the center of the room. The canopies got in her face, but she didn’t care, throwing herself bodily over the other side. There wasn’t much more to help her there, but at least it put her as far as possible away from her—she did not like the feral look that had come upon her Lady.

“I do so like it when they run,” Alcina mused aloud, almost wistful, as she advanced slowly after her. “It makes the victory all the sweeter.”

The ensuite was a poor choice, running back in there would only get her trapped in an even smaller room. And possibly drowned, or her head smashed open on the tiles if the Lady felt so inclined. Instead, there was the balcony.

She shoved at the doors, surprised when they flew open, admitting the freezing winter air and light snow over her naked body. She had no time to consider the cold, though. Rushing instead to the balcony, a scream caught in her throat as she peered hard over the edge. Three stories, cobble below—no lower balconies, not even a planter box in reach. Nothing.

She whined, low.

“Little mouse,” the Lady rumbled against her back, as arms came to wrap lazily around her naked form, one brushing over her collarbone teasingly and the other thumbing her naked hip. The touch set all her hairs raising, screaming danger. “There is only one way this ends.”

She slipped out of the lax hold, surprised when the Lady allowed her to escape with nothing but a chuckle.

The realization she was being toyed with hit her, but she couldn’t stop the panic that fueled her to attempt another ill-advised escape. 

She ducked under the lazy grab of a hand, slamming the balcony doors on her as the Lady laughed, deep and rumbling. A few stray speckles of the winter snow fell into her hair. She ripped one of the ropes from the curtains, tying the handles together in a shoddy knot. She banished the Lady behind the curtains as she threw them closed. 

There was a rasp of sharp claws on glass, teasing. “Little mouse, little mouse,” Alcina sang, “let me in.”

“Fuck,” she cursed again, eyes scrambling for something to free her. 

She crossed quickly to the broken side table, dodging scattered roses and shattered ceramic. The drawer was wrenched open, spilling papers and books and a few trinkets all over the floor to join the mess. She fumbled for a key.

“Three.”

She was already ripping at the next drawer, digging desperately. Nothing, nothing, fuck.

“Two.”

The lowest drawer was jammed, and she had to rip the middle drawer out to access it, throwing it to the side so she could rifle through the insides.

Fuck, fuck, it wasn’t here, it wasn’t—

“One!”

The rope abruptly split and fell to the ground, the doors bursting open.

The Lady stooped through them, clawed fingers slicing the curtains aside, then rose to her full height—feeling somehow taller than usual. She smiled down at Elena like it was all some hilarious joke, her eyes burning with something malicious.

“Stop,” Elena pleaded, then, abandoning the search to crawl desperately backwards.

Alcina marauded over to her, the grin on her face positively sickening as she peered down and copied the petulant, enunciated words.

“No.”

For each inch she scrambled back, the Lady advanced one closer.

Step.

By step.

By step.

Until Elena’s back met the wall and she sat, frozen, staring up in horror.

“Well, hello again, little mouse,” Alcina reached down, grasping her by the backs of her naked thighs, and lifted. 

Her back dragged awfully up the wallpaper, and Elena swallowed back a scream as she was pinned there, head close to the ceiling as the Lady lifted her clear above her shoulders. Her hands flew out, grasping into dark hair. The motion ignored as her legs were held open, spread like an invitation as the Lady peered at her.

Frozen in fear, this one pure and ice cold, she sat like a statue.

Alcina showed no interest in the apex of her thighs, though. Her eyes were instead on her legs and the backs of her thighs, which were pushed up obscenely to bare more of the skin. Her eyes were dark, hungry.

“Fuck—” Elena whimpered, heart about to explode in her chest. 

A pair of lips brushed against her knee, a tongue darting out to taste—licking a line where blood seeped from broken skin at her knee. It was messy, and the Lady’s lips stained red with her favorite shade. Then she dragged them lower and inwards, mouthing at the back of her thighs, following more lines of blood, sliced from her escape over debris. She sucked and laved her tongue over them, moaning into her skin.

“I can taste your fear,” Alcina rasped, eyes blown, looking up at her through her lashes. “It’s so sweet.”

Her head span and she tugged at the Lady’s hair again. “S-Stop—”

“Ask me nicely,” Alcina growled against the back of her left thigh.

“Please!” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Stop!”

“Louder,” Alcina laughed, something like fangs tracking over her skin and leaving thin red lines as she moved from one small cut to another. “Beg me. Beg your Mother to let you go. Tell her you’ll be a good girl for her.”

Tears fell heavily down her cheeks. “I will! I promise! Please, just stop!”

A tongue licked again against her thigh, the laugh mocking once more. “And if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll be a good girl. I’ll do whatever you want,” Elena cried against the sting. “I’ll wear the d-diaper—I’m sorry, just stop!”

Alcina licked one last time, then lowered her slowly to the ground. Holding her until Elena’s girl’s legs were no longer in danger of giving in, at which point she released her, taking a pointed step back so she could pass.

“Very well then,” Alcina smiled, all sharp teeth and crimson-tainted lips. “Go lay on the bed and wait for Mother to get you ready.”

On unsteady legs, shaking head to toe, she carefully made her way over to the bed.

“Oh, and one more thing, dearest?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at Alcina.

The look she was given was bone-chilling. “I look forward to your punishment.”

Elena cried silent tears through the whole process, but obediently allowed the Lady to fasten the diaper to her hips without any complaint.

The tears continued as the Lady pulled out a first aid kit, manipulating her legs up and down to test their range of motion, then sterilizing and pressing sticky bandages down one-by-one over the half-dozen cuts. 

Her head lolled to the side, her arms still wrapped protectively over her naked chest. “You told me you wouldn’t hurt me,” her voice came out small.

“I did not hurt you,” Alcina replied, kissing the bandage over her knee. “You did a perfectly good job of that on your own.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “Your teeth…”

“Did not break skin, little one,” Alcina mentioned, tracing the raised red lines that stood out against a pale thigh. “But it would have been a waste not to sample you while the opportunity presented itself. The blood was quite sweet.”

Elena sobbed softly. “I didn’t like it.”

“We often hate things we don’t understand,” Alcina replied, reaching out to grab at the shielding hands and using the grip on the wrists to pull the prone girl to sit up. Her eyes played across the naked chest, up to her neck and the throbbing vein there. “Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin, and a true bite plays more on the latter. It would not hurt as much as ruining my floors did.”

She shook her head, mute.

“I expected some resistance, sweet thing. My daughters were more defiant than you by far,” Alcina continued conversationally, reaching out to grasp a pool of fabric she had placed by Elena’s head. The soft white dress was childish, lacy, and very far from something she’d ever pick for herself. “But I must admit, I did not expect you to fight quite so hard. I thought we shared a nice moment together. You were very sweet in our bath.”

Elena lifted her arms without prompting, cheeks red. “I told you, that changed nothing—”

“You will watch your tone,” Alcina replied, some of the rumbling coming back to her voice. She swiftly tugged the dress over Elena’s head, coaxing her hips up so she could pull it fully over the diaper and to her mid-thigh, baring the scratches and bandages. “I told you I enjoyed a challenge. Now, you know the consequences of challenging me, dearest. And I enjoyed them very much.”

She looked down at her bandaged legs, then up at Alcina’s heavy gaze. “Will the punishment hurt?”

“No,” Alcina replied swiftly. “You have hurt enough for one night. But it will embarrass you.”

She gave a plaintive whimper at that. “But—”

“It will be a powerful lesson, one you will not forget.” A firm hand patted her head. “You will take it and you will learn from it, I hope. Or you will not, and we will continue this cycle—the choice is yours.”

Her voice came out, small once more. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“For you to obey.”

Elena hid in the bathroom when the maids swept into the room, businesslike and efficient.

Alcina had allowed her the small mercy, not bothering to try and capture her when she summoned the help. Though, the look in her eyes reminded her it was a useless effort. They both knew that dinner was mere hours away—always a grand affair attended to by numerous kitchen staff, her ex-coworkers, and that she would be forced to meet them like this.

Perhaps it was all part of her punishment, the dread of knowing and not being able to do anything about it. The thought of her colleagues seeing her like this, dressed in a child’s dress and fuzzy slippers, covered in bandages and with the unmistakable shape of a diaper on beneath her dress.

It was mortifying, and so she spent much of her time hiding in the bathroom staring at herself in the vanity mirror with shaking hands. 

A full day ago, she had been one of them—a normal girl from the village, a kitchen maid to the fearsome Dimitrescu family, fearful subject of the scariest of the Lords, just trying her best to make it through the day intact. 

Now, she was this—

The youngest Dimitrescu.

A noble Lady of the House.

A child in everything but age.

She was a turncoat and victim, both, and she did not know how to reconcile the jagged edges of herself.

The maids worked carefully, saying nothing in deference to the presence of the Lady still in the room. The only one to speak was the Grand Chambermaid, her voice barking orders on behalf of Alcina, who ignored them in favor of reading over and reorganizing some of the scattered papers herself.

It took four of them to move the heavy bed back into position, then two to lift the broken side table out of the room and bring a new one in. The rest remained in the room, sweeping and mopping. 

“Apologies, Lady Dimitrescu,” the Grand Chambermaid’s voice came through the door. “The winter curtains will take some time to repair. Would you care for the summer ones to be brought up in their place?”

Alcina’s disinterested voice answered back. “Acceptable. Have them replaced during dinner tonight.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

After a few more minutes of wrangling the staff and tidying the mess, the door to the bedroom clicked shut. Elena waited in the bathroom a few more moments, content to be alone. She only reluctantly left when Alcina called out to her.

She nervously slipped back into the room. It was almost like their altercation had never happened, if one excluded the curtains with claw marks through them—even the vase had been replaced, full of fresh purple salvia flowers.

“Come sit,” Alcina commanded, one leg crossed over another in her arm chair, a book in her hand. She had dressed fully before the maids arrived, and sat in a crimson dress with immaculate makeup, looking like power incarnate.

Elena tentatively eased herself into a chair across from her.

A silver tray sat on the table between them, covered.

Lady Dimitrescu turned a page in her book, silent, reading carefully.

Elena’s stomach was doing somersaults, and her palms began to sweat.

“I do not consider this to be a punishment, though I suspect you may.” Alcina began, eyes not leaving her book. “Open it.”

With nervous hands, she reached out, slowly lifting the lid.

A single teacup—amber-colored, medicinally fragrant, the remains of a sugar cube slowly dissolving inside.

“Drink it.”

Everything within her wanted to rebel, in remembrance of the previous night. 

But then she remembered the Lady’s teeth against her skin, the indecent stretch of her legs as a tongue licked at the back of her thighs, the way she’d had to beg in the face of an overwhelming monster and agree to do whatever she said.

It was a test.

She stared at the cup, silent.

Another page in the book turned.

With tremulous hands, she reached out, lifting the cup from the saucer. The liquid swirled, her own distorted face reflected at her in the waves. The smell was heady, and she breathed it in deeper. A familiar fluffy feeling began to fill up her head. She shook her head jerkily to shake away the feeling, only half successful.

It was not like she had a choice.

Despite her reservations, she downed it in one long gulp—

The tang cut across her tongue, not quite as severe as she remembered, the bitterness making itself known not long after. She desperately wished for some milk in it to cut through the flavor, the sugar cube not quite enough. But she wasn’t in a position to make demands.

“Thank you,” Elena whispered, unprompted.

When she looked up, Alcina was staring hard at her over top of her book, a flicker of pleasure on her face. “You are welcome, sweet girl.”

The exhaustion was creeping up on her again, slower this time, so she reached out to place the teacup back on the saucer. Then, she eased herself backwards in the arm chair. Her limbs felt heavy and warm, as if she was buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Her head dipped a few times, suddenly too much for her neck to sustain.

The Lady reached out to her, then, tipping the head backwards against the back of the chair to prevent her from swaying forwards. “You may take a nap, dragă. I will wake you before dinner.”

It did not take more than that for her to fall asleep, slowly then all at once.

Chapter Text

Elena awoke to an ache in her jaw.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered. She tried to work the stiffness out—

There was something in her mouth.

“Well, well,” Alcina watched her, smiling with satisfaction as the panic sparked across her face. “I was just about to wake you.”

Her eyes slammed fully open.

She tried to lift her hands to her face, to feel what it was, but the motion was abandoned before it could truly begin. Not because of the weakness in her limbs, which barely wanted to listen to her commands, but for the wine-colored leather cuffs attached to them. They were bound together at the wrist. She shifted in alarm, protesting against the object in her mouth.

“Squirm all you like, my love,” Alcina was watching her, eyes hot, amused by her struggling. “I do not think it will get you far.”

Awareness was slowly returning to her, buzzing with the adrenaline as it worked to fight through the syrupy, lingering press of the tea in her system. With its return, she became aware of the leather straps digging slightly into her cheeks, of the hard ball that they held between her lips, keeping her jaw extended.

She stared up at the Lady with wide eyes, letting out muffled moans of protest.

“I told you that I would find something to silence that filthy mouth of yours,” Alcina purred. “And the cuffs, well, Mother was feeling inspired when she devised your punishment.”

Oh, she did not like that. At all.

Elena whined through her nose, low and pleading, as her eyes misted. 

A hand reached out to cup her cheek in the imitation of a gentle caress, but the thumb pushed firmly against the ball in her mouth, making her cry out as it made her jaw stretch a fraction too wide. “Hush, it is too early for tears. These are only preparations. The true punishment is yet to come, and I would hate you to cry yourself out before it arrives.”

She blinked back the tears with great effort, whimpering in relief when the Lady let up on the pressure on the gag.

“You do look so very good like this,” Alcina murmured, fingertips trailing the length of the leather strap until she could dig them into the hinge of her jaw, massaging away some of the stiffness. There was an odd look in her eye. “I’m half-tempted to make it permanent.”

Elena shook her head, giving muffled protests.

There was a light tug at some loose strands of hair at her temple, enough to sting but not overly painful. It jerked her wobbly head from side-to-side.“Perhaps something to keep in mind, next time you wish to get so mouthy, hm?”

She gave a low groan.

Alcina laughed, a flash of gleaming teeth. “Now, are you ready for dinner?”

There was no staff to be seen on the way to the Dining Hall—or if there was, the Lady wasn’t letting her see them. The hand on the back of her head kept her tucked close, blinded to any wayward stragglers. She was sobbing angry tears into the Lady’s neck, teeth digging harshly into the gag still in her mouth. Her jaw creaked for how hard she was biting.

She knew logically that most of the day staff would be tucking into staff dinner in the servant’s quarters at this time. She didn’t care particularly for them. The arguably more humiliating group would be in the kitchens, preparing to serve dinner to the family—all of them were familiar, friends or co-workers, people she had laughed with, grown up with, had stolen treats from and who had been precious to her.

And those people were about to see her like this: dressed in a childish dress, diapered, restrained and gagged, carried from hall to hall like a baby.

Her parents would roll in their graves if they could see her now. 

The Lady chuckled against her, nothing nice about it. “Relax, dragă. Is dinner with your family so scary?”

She hissed an angry sound around the gag, like a kitten spitting.

“My, you forget how to obey so quickly,” Alcina mused aloud, the hand that grasped one of her thighs squeezing slightly in retribution, chuckling again as the girl yelped. “I do hope you remember this, little one. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it, as they say.”

The entrance to the Dining Hall was easy enough, the Lady releasing her hold on the back of Elena’s neck so she could push the doors open and stoop through, carrying her. Elena took advantage of the moment, twisting her neck as much as she could to take in whatever punishment was waiting for her.

Her gaze slipped over Bela and Cassandra’s empty seat, over Daniela’s smiling face, and the Lady’s empty chair at the head of the table. And then locked on to a new addition, perched at the table corner between Daniela and the Lady’s seat.

Her blood ran cold.

“Mmff!”

No.

Fuck no.

Elena’s wrists may have been locked together and swung over the back of Lady Dimitrescu’s neck, forcing her into an awkward cuddle, but her legs were still able to kick. They were loose-limbed and jerky, but she kicked all the same, struggling as desperately as her body would allow.

Firm hands grabbed harder on her thighs, digging harshly into the bandaged cuts, squeezing them until she gasped through her nose at the reminder.

“Now, now, do not fight with Mother.” A mocking smile. “You will not win.”

She ignored her, because no way in Hell was she sitting on that.

“Do you not like it, baby sister?” Daniela, already in the room and vibrating with excitement, gave her an innocent, sad-puppy look. “I picked it myself!”

Well, that explained a lot.

The wooden torture implement thinly veiled as a ‘chair’ was adult-sized, carved with legs like lions paws and intricate detailing and gems all around the top. Overly gaudy and clashing horribly with the rest of the furniture around it. More importantly, it had brackets on the arms for restraints and leather cuffs around the legs. And, currently pushed to the side awaiting someone to be sat down, a wooden tray.

She protested against the gag again. “Mmfph!”

It was a fucking high chair. 

They expected her to sit in a fucking high chair, like a baby.

Hot and furious tears dripped down her face, and she struggled as much as she could. Her weak arms pulled at the cuffs on her arms, as if she could snap the strong metal clasps tying them together at the wrist. When that failed, she resorted to trying to climb the Lady like a tree, trying to drag her wrists over her head and make her escape.

Lady Dimitrescu just cooed at her struggling, like it was adorable. Her iron grip allowed no escape.

Daniela seemed to share the good humor, giggling. “Aw, the baby’s so fussy.”

They were insane, all of them—certifiably so.

“Maybe one day you’ll be old enough to sit with your big sister,” Alcina mused, smirking at the sight of the red flush and angry tears streaming down her neck. “But you’re far too small for that. Mother must keep you safe, so you don’t hurt yourself again.”

The words hurt yourself were punctuated again by a squeeze of her bandaged thighs that made the cuts sing.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, knee jerking as she tried to nail the Lady in the gut. Between whatever give there was in the Lady’s hold and the lingering weakness in her muscles, all she managed to do was nudge the Lady lightly in the stomach. 

“Do you want to get down?” Alcina purred.

She nodded frantically, shoving as much as she could with her hands bound behind the Lady’s neck. The tears continued to streak down her face, and she could feel the skin beneath burning with mortification and the salt. 

“Very well,” she agreed. “Daniela, darling, if you would?”

The redhead tittered, but helped her Mother wrangle Elena’s wiggling legs and jerky arms. They were raised over the Lady’s head, then the hands on her thighs lifted her with ease. Depositing her, right into the fucking chair.

“Mmff!”

Her leg kicked, but it just went straight through Daniela’s side—making her squeak at the sensation of flies buzzing on her skin. The redhead reformed, grasping her by the ankle. She wasn’t as strong as her mother, but the hold was still inhumanly strong. And so, one leg, then the other, was buckled into the ankle cuffs at the seat’s base.

Meanwhile, the Lady herself had leaned down, unclasping the chain that bound her wrists together. Instead, she hooked them swiftly to the clasps on the chair’s arms, pinning them there instead. 

Elena strained, but there was no give to any of the cuffs no matter how much she wriggled. The chair didn’t even budge, despite her full body squirming. 

The two Dimitrescu ladies watched her struggle, sharing satisfied smiles. And then Alcina reached down, slotting the tabletop down in front of her with a final click, loud as a gunshot.

“Well, isn’t she just adorable,” Alcina coaxed, reaching out to pinch at the skin of her cheek not covered by the gag’s strap. She looked far too pleased with herself, swiping at some of the heavy tears running down Elena’s cheeks, then bringing it back to her mouth to lick them from her thumb. “I could just eat you alive.”

Daniela was practically alight with pleasure next to her. She reached out as well, planting a messy kiss on Elena’s cheek, ignoring the way she cringed away. “My gorgeous little sister!”

Elena’s eyes swam as she looked between the two, the Lady’s smile punishing and Daniela’s innocent.

The doors swung back open again, admitting two more bodies.

“My, are we fussing over our little sister already?”

Cassandra had to be helped to the dinner table, her legs wobbling like a baby faun next to Bela’s more steady ones as she dumped her younger sister into her chair. The brunette’s hair was wild and soaking wet, dripping down the front of her dark dress. “Evening, baby sister,” Cassandra purred, looking absurdly pleased with herself. “Did you have fun today?”

If she had enough control of her body, she may have considered flipping her off. Instead, despite the tears, Elena glowered back at her, her arms jerking against the restraints, biting into the gag with aggression.

“Oh, such a fierce look in her eye,” Cassandra cooed. Her eyes then darted to her mother, who had now sat herself in the seat at the head of the table. “Quite the racket you made, Mother.”

The older woman just gazed loftily down at her daughter, pulling a long drag from her cigarette holder and exhaling the smoke to coil slowly up to the ceiling. In lieu of an answer, she replied pointedly. “Did you enjoy your punishment, Cassandra?”

The grin was unrepentant. “Yes, Mother. Big sister punished me thoroughly.”

Bela let out an aggrieved sigh. “I punished her appropriately, Mother.”

“I wish you would punish me inappropriately,” Cassandra moaned theatrically, giving her sister a salacious smirk—one that only grew wider when the blonde shuddered in revulsion. 

The Lady didn’t seem to care for that show, either.

“Enough. Sit and be silent, all of you.”

There was a small buzz as Daniela eased back into her seat and Bela vanished into a swarm to reappear, sitting, in her own. They sat upright and proper, looking every bit the ladies they were purported to be. Cassandra just remained slouched, laving her tongue over the split in her lip like a lazy cat licking its paws.

“Now,” Alcina announced, once they were all somewhat settled. Her attention shifted back to Elena, who somewhat ceased her struggles under the intense gaze. “Your lovely sister had gone to the effort of preparing a wonderful feast for you, to welcome your first day as a Lady of the House.”

Bela sat even straighter in her chair, looking pleased by the mild praise.

“However, your actions today have deprived you of the pleasure.” She paused, taking a deep pull from her cigarette holder. “I will expect you to apologize to your sister for putting her efforts to waste, when you are capable of such.”

Elena sunk her teeth deeply into the gag, dread filling her. 

“Instead, she has kindly arranged an alternative menu for you.”

Cassandra smothered a laugh behind her hand, but was unable to hide the sheer joy on her face. The sort of expression that had Elena’s very cells vibrating in fear, the squirming resuming as she panted behind the gag.

“That said,” the Lady retrieved from her elbow what Elena had passed off as a napkin. She handed the folded cloth off to her eldest. “The little one has proven she can’t be trusted to feed herself without making a mess. Bela, darling?”

“Of course, Mother!”

Elena stared, eyes wide and glassy, as the eldest sister rose to accept the cloth. It was unfolded, revealing another unique form of torture they had planned for her. It was soft white, dotted with little flowers and bee embroidery. A bib.

She pushed against the restraints. “Mmff!” 

“I don’t think she likes it,” Cassandra chuckled. 

“Stay still, sister,” Bela commanded Elena as she stepped up behind the chair, sweeping the haphazard ponytail to the side so she could dutifully attempt to tie it around Elena’s neck.

Elena absolutely did not stay still, in fact, trying to headbutt the blonde.

She was grabbed by the hair in an instant.

Bela gave a correcting hiss, her head falling into the curve where Elena’s shoulder and neck met. Then there was a rumbling, buzzing sound, layered like a growl. Lips dragged at her neck, the tip of something sharp at her pulse point. “I said stay still, sister.”

Elena froze, inhale caught in her chest. Her eyes flickering up to the Lady for help.

Alcina just pulled in another drag off tobacco, long and slow, and did not intervene.

Desperate, her eyes shifted, begging.

Cassandra met her gaze, her own sparking with something Elena couldn’t read. She made as if to stand. Then, her eyes shifted to Bela, the blonde’s eyes blown wide, staring deeply into her own. “Mind your big sister,” Cassandra snarled at Elena, tipping her head away.

Daniela was frozen at her side, pupils just as blown. Almost without thinking, her hand came up, scratching harshly at her own neck like a dog with an itch.

A long, heavy moment came—Elena let out a weak cry.

Abruptly, almost regretfully, Bela pulled back. Her hands were businesslike, arranging the bib around her neck with swift hands, then rounding back on unsteady legs to drop heavily into her seat at the Lady’s right hand. She said nothing, face troubled.

“Mother,” Daniela pleaded, high pitched, licking her lips as she stared at the space on Elena’s neck with an almost desperate longing. “Bela did—I want—may I?”

Bela’s eyes cut to her, dark as fading embers. “Daniela.”

The redhead whined low and soft in her throat, tilting her head away

Elena, heart racing, head swimming with embarrassment and fear and a million other things she couldn’t name, matched the tone.

She felt something primal, raw in the room, even without the receptors to truly identify it. But by the look on the other sister’s faces, they had. And they did not like it, but Bela had forced them to concede to it.

Bela drew her shoulders up and folded her hands together, casting the Lady a cautious look. “Apologies, Mother, if I overreached.”

“I’ve allowed it,” Alcina replied, stubbing out the end of the cigarette on an ashtray at her elbow. “The little one must be taught her lesson. However, none of you are to think of doing it again, unless I’ve given my permission. She does not belong to any of you.”

There was an implicit, possessive rumble in those words.

Head dipping in submission and a hint of embarrassment, Bela nodded. “Yes, Mother.”

Cassandra scowled, but said nothing.

Daniela whined like a kicked puppy.

“Now, daughters, shall we eat?”

“Yes, Mother,” Bela agreed, reaching to ring the bell in the center of the table, once, then twice. 

The dinner bell echoed loudly, and Elena swallowed a scream, feeling for all the world like she was the one about to be fed to the wolves.

Then, the kitchen doors opened.

Elena kept her eyes squeezed closed and head ducked.

The dining cart clattered smoothly into the room. She did not need to open her eyes to know the procession, she had been party to it numerous times. Clarissa would come first always, the lead server. Behind her, Gabriela and Sorana would push a cart on either side of the table. Then, the serving maids would stride in behind them. Mălina would take the right side of the table. Adela would take the left.

She refused to look. She couldn’t.

There was a hitch in the steps, the briefest pause in the regimented routine of the serving staff. 

She bowed her head down like she was praying, and perhaps she was. Though not for forgiveness, for release. She could almost taste it on the back of her tongue, learned like rote in the village. Mother Miranda, I call on thee within the endless dark to deliver me into fate's hands—

“Head up, little one,” Alcina said, reaching out to grasp her chin and harshly jerk it upwards. “A Dimitrescu bows to no one.”

She was helpless to avoid the correction, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Waiting.

The previously loud tears were quiet now, seizing in her chest and her heart. She was cold and hot, her nerves sparking like a live wire as she felt the mortified gazes of her friends upon her. Her lungs were so, so full, the water creeping in around her head, her ears, she was drowning—

“Breathe.”

Elena sucked in a sharp inhale under the instruction, then held it. It burned in her lungs, over-filled like they were to explode, like if she were to inhale any more her ribs were going to crack. She breathed harder through her nose, just to feel them creak.

The carts rattled, the sound of trays lifting and dishes set on the table loud in her ears. 

A hand squeezed over her right one, cooler to the touch—Daniela. 

“Breathe with me, baby sister,” Daniela’s voice was low and kind, the tone nothing she had ever heard from her before; a balm over ripping wounds, a gentle caress into the screaming silence. The sound of her breathing, patient, moderate. “Out, then in. You’re doing so well. Big sister will take care of you, just breathe.”

Elena just allowed it to wash over her.

“Open your eyes,” Daniela whispered again, threading their fingers together. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head.

She couldn’t bare to see what awaited her—to see the scorn, or the fear, or the pity, or the—

A tray was set in front of her, rattling a little too loud.

Jolting, her eyes flew open without her consent, wide and frantic. She instinctively tracked her gaze along the crisp white sleeve up, up, up, until she caught a pair of wide green eyes: Adela, who was staring at her like a ghost made material, pale as the grave.

Elena stared back with wide, wet eyes, pleading.

Looked back at her best friend in the whole castle, the woman who had almost helped her escape, the woman who—who was staring at her like something unrecognizable, something wretched. And then it was gone. 

Slowly, deliberately, Adela stepped away. Her eyes averted to the floor. “Forgive my insolence, Lady Elena.”

A fat, horrible tear slid down her cheek, then another; until a cascade was dripping down.

Shame and mortification dueled in her like physical things, fangs and teeth sinking deep in the hollows of her chest cavity. 

Daniela snarled at her left, and Elena belatedly realized that she was squeezing the older girl’s fingers in a death grip, as much as the tea would allow. The redhead did not seem to care, though. Instead, she was bristling like an angry mother cat, teeth bared and lip curled—at Adela. 

The Lady drank a slow sip of wine, poured by a poker-faced Clarissa. “Daniela, enough.”

Daniela gave a small snarl, a sound Elena had never heard her make, and her fingers coiled white-knuckled with Elena’s. Her gaze met Elena’s, pupils constricted. A moment of mutual recognition, perhaps: two younger siblings who knew what it meant to be below in the hierarchy—recognition that the older one had grown and had learned how to use her teeth—

“I said enough.”

“Yes, Mother,” Daniela said, tightly.

Adela stepped back to the dining cart, caution written in every movement, as if she was stepping on glass. Her hands were trembling as she grasped a silver spoon. Then, she stepped back to Elena’s side, flinching when Daniela bristled

“Give it to me.”

Adela offered the cutlery as a maid should, without touching Daniela or dropping it into her hand. Instead, she swiveled it by the neck, careful not to touch the mouth end, nor to take up too much of the grip. A respectful, masterful execution, despite her shaky hand.

Daniela glowered at the perfect serve—clearly awaiting some perceived mistake, frustrated when none came.

Elena stared at it, sightless.

Adela had taught her how to do that, once upon a time—how to attain perfection under tremendous stress. She had drilled Elena again and again into the late hours when she found out that she would be assigned to service for the first time. It required one to be able to kill their heart and mind, traitorous things that they were, to be able to compartmentalize and cut dead weight. If one was prepared to step over the body of a friend to continue serving blood wine, they would go far in Castle Dimitrescu.

And she had seen it in her gaze, as Adela stepped away, the close of a door, of whatever had been their past.

She was no longer a girl begging on her knees for help, Adela was no longer the soft-hearted maid who had reluctantly betrayed her own values to aid her escape. Now, Elena dined at a table with monsters, by choice or circumstance. And Adela was just a maid in her service.

Elena had never been good at that perfection, cold and callous—so there she sat, mute, tears splattering on the tabletop like rain. Not just for the mortification, she realized. But for the loss.

With fresh trays presented and the stage set, the carts were returned to the kitchen.

The service maid stood at the edges of the room like sentinels in wait, for wine or whim of their Ladies. Faceless and nameless, perhaps, to the other Dimitrescu women. But not to Elena, who felt their eyes burn against her skin: disgust, mortification, horror, pity, it all cut across her like lashes and did not slow the tears down her cheeks.

“Enough, Elena,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice was stern, firm; the voice she used in company. It was striking, then, that it was the first time that the Lady had used her name. “Your crying will get you nowhere.”

She felt lower than a worm, the eyes of the sisters and the maids upon her.

The traitorous tears did not stop.

Daniela’s hand in her own, clutched like a lifeline, squeezed. “Let me help you, sister. Can I?”

Elena stared at her, struggling to fit the fragments of her together in her mind like a puzzle—the deranged woman who ruined who escape with her games, the manic creature that had cuffed her into the chair with laughter, the psychopath who had once carved a maid’s face apart for spilling a drop of wine, the very patient young woman who looked at her now like she hung the stars.

Her eyes squeezed shut once more. A war raging on multiple fronts in her chest.

Eventually, for lack of alternatives, she was once again forced to submit—despite everything within her that wanted nothing more than to rage and spit and scream, to fight for her personhood. She was tea-weak, bound, at their mercy. There was no salvation to find her.

So, she nodded.

Daniela’s eyes caught the Lady’s, receiving a nod.

With that, the older redhead placed the spoon down on Elena’s table. Then, she reached up with gentle hands, slowly unbuckling the gag that kept the ball at her jaw. She gently extracted it, placing it down on the tabletop as well, then reached out to massage the soft pink lines on Elena’s face, ignoring the salty tears that ran over her fingertips.

Elena worked her jaw, licking at dry lips. Free of the gag, she couldn’t bring herself to shout.

Instead, when Daniela let her go and raised the lid of the tray, she just let out a low, shuddering breath. She felt hollow, wrung out, and yet still surprised herself when more tears poured down her cheeks.

It was baby food, clearly—a cruel joke, or a punishment, more accurately.

Tears swam in her eyes and she furiously blinked them back, staring down at the plate with nothing but quiet horror.

The bowl of baby food smelled similar to zacusca, was deep red and fragrant smelling with garlic and tomatoes. But it had been mashed or pureed down, and was clearly cold. Probably prepared earlier in the day and stored in the chiller. It looked absolutely disgusting.

Her eyes caught the incredulous look of one of the serving maids, Mălina, and the flush burned down to her toes.

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered, voice rough and croaky.

“The staff worked hard to prepare this for you,” Lady Dimitrescu insisted, firm. “You will eat it.”

Daniela scooped up a spoonful, offering it to her with a coaxing smile. The hand still clasped in her own ran a thumb over the back of her hand. “Come on, sister, you will need your strength. Would you open your mouth for your big sister?”

Her eyes glanced away, to Bela and Cassandra across from her. The two sisters were watching, one with reserved interest, the other with a strange look on her face. Then, Elena’s eyes darted to the Lady, who just looked back at her with an unblinking eye, slowly sipping at a wine glass. None of them had started on their own food, attention riveted on her.

She swallowed tightly, feeling like an animal at a zoo.

Then, slowly, she opened her mouth and accepted it.

Tomatoes, garlic, eggplant and other vegetables—the flavor was objectively acceptable, but it tasted like ash on her tongue. It was cold and miserable, chunks of vegetables and what she hoped was beef, sticking to the roof of her mouth like glue.  

Daniela’s eyes widened, shivering and hazy around the edges with her pleasure. A manic look sparked in her eye, but then she seemingly reined it in with great difficulty, shaking her head like a dog. “Good girl,” Daniela said, focusing on her with a strange, hawklike intent. “You will grow up big and strong!”

She did not feel particularly big and strong, eating baby slop and crying her eyes out.

But slowly, obediently, she allowed Daniela to feed her. Her stomach turned with each bite, especially when an over-enthusiastic spoonful dripped down her chin and to the bib on her neck, leaving dark red stains that made Cassandra smirk at her.

She cried the whole time, silent and ugly tears. But she continued to mechanically open her mouth, choking it down, fearful of further punishment if she refused more and just as eager to get the dinner over with. She was painfully aware of the eyes on her the whole time, but kept her eyes on Daniela’s smiling face only, tunnel visioned. 

When the bowl was scraped empty and the feeding was over, the redhead leaned forward with a wicked smile. She lapped at the corner of Elena’s mouth and chin with her tongue, bathing her clean like a cat, giggling at her protests. Then she continued up, licking at tear tracks, even nipping slightly at her cheek and ear.

Elena didn’t find it nearly so funny, but she was powerless to fight back. “Big sister, stop—”

“Say it again,” Daniela moaned into her ear, nosing at her neck. “Who am I?”

She whined.

Bela bristled, utensils clattering to her plate. “Daniela—”

“No,” Daniela purred, inhaling Elena’s sweet scent with an indecent groan, tongue darting to taste. “Who am I?”

Elena gasped, head swimming under all the eyes focused on her. She let out a strange, half-strangled sound, eyes squeezing shut as she felt the tongue run over the soft mark Bela had left on her shoulder. “Sister, please—”

“Curvă.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Someone had called her a whore.

Elena froze as if struck, as did Daniela, pulling her head sharply from Elena’s neck.

The dark-haired serving maid, Mălina, pressed her hands to her mouth, looking equally as shocked by her own outburst. Her eyes burned against Elena’s as they flew open. At her side, the other maids gasped, cringing away from her, leaving her exposed.  

The Lady puffed up with rage instantly, the temperature in the room plunging, the shadows seeming to grow behind her, grasping with ill intent as she opened her mouth—

But she did not get a chance to act.

Cassandra descended in an instant.

Her hands seized Mălina by the hair, dragging her and forcing her face to the table with a hard thud. Blood immediately began to gush out of the maid’s nose, staining the white tablecloth and spilling the half-full glass of wine down the middle. She ignored the maid’s screaming and begging. In her other hand, a sickle had materialized, and the hand in her hair tugged sharply so she could hook the blade around her throat.

“You dare?” Cassandra spat, hair wrapped in her fist.

Cassandra’s eyes cut across the table like daggers, shifting from Elena’s to Daniela’s with a feverish look. There was intent there, protective and frenzied both, a truly angry twist to her features that made her look close to feral, apoplectic with rage. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw the renewed tears on Elena’s cheeks, hurt tears.

The low, rippling snarl filled the room, roaring like the buzz of a thousand angry flies. 

Abruptly, Daniela’s hands settled over Elena’s eyes. “You do not want to see this, baby sister.”

The table thudded loudly, as the head was raised and slammed back down.

“Say it again!” Cassandra roared. “Pizdă! I dare you!” 

The woman shook her head, groaning in pain, trying to mumble apologies. She tried to outstretch a hand towards Elena, perhaps for beg or help or perhaps to harm. It was a moot point, as the hand was pinned to the table in an instant, steak knife spearing between tendons and muscle.

“You will die, slowly and painfully,” Cassandra bit out, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her up. “I will make every moment of your pathetically short life a symphony of pain, so exquisite that our wine will sing of it for decades.”

Mălina let out a scream that swiftly cut into a gurgling gasp as Cassandra seized her by the throat. The sickle speared through her arm, slicing it where it was weakest at the elbow. Then, she picked the separated limb up and tossed it towards Daniela’s plate with a thump. “Here, sister, fresh meat just for you.”

Daniela purred in delight, kissing the top of Elena’s head. “Thank you, Cassie.”

The brunette dissolved into a storm of flies, giggling as she dragged the screaming maid down the hallway in a trail of blood.

Bela sighed, setting the heart in her hands down. “Well, that quite ruined my appetite.”

“Go assist Cassandra with the preparations,” Alcina growled, layered with the same two-toned, furious intonation. “I will deal with the rest.”

At that, the eldest nodded, dissolving into a swarm as she followed after her sister.

Lady Dimitrescu rounded on the collection of maids, who all trembled with wide-eyed disbelief. Her eyes burned with fury, the temperature in the room lowering further, like she had pulled all the light from the room. Her voice came out as a bellow. “Let this be a lesson to you all. To dare speak like that in my home? To my daughter? If I ever hear such a thing again, you will all be out of employment. Permanently! Do I make myself clear?”

The maids prostrated themselves into low bows. They echoed as a chorus, “Yes, My Lady!”

“Clean this mess up,” she barked. “And prepare tea in my chambers!”

Clarissa, the lead server, shoved the others into motion. “Yes, My Lady!”

Chapter Text

She was carried like a princess back to the Lady’s chambers. 

Ordinarily, the hold would maybe have had her squirming, but instead she just allowed herself to sag into it. She felt hollow and wrung out, tears no longer coming, just a deep aching emptiness in their place. No matter how carefully the Lady carried her, she felt like the sack of grain Cassandra had run her sickle through the night of her escape; torn apart, spilling out and making a mess.

“You did very well,” Alcina said, trying to be soothing; the undercurrent of rage was still simmering beneath the surface, though, and Elena felt the turbulence in the stiffness of the hold. “Your punishment is complete.”

Once, maybe she’d have dropped an ironic laugh. The punishment didn’t feel very complete, in fact, Elena didn’t think it would ever truly end. What life awaited her, at the end of this road? Discarded from boredom, old age, hunger, or worse? Would she end up like Mălina? Was that any worse than now?

So, Elena just shook against her and said nothing, mute.

Alcina carried on, bulldozing through the silence. “The maid will be made to understand the depths of her mistake, this I assure you.”

Her gag was long gone, left on the table, but there was a tightness in her throat that seized her ability to speak all the same.

It was disgust, she realized; bone deep and cavernous. Not at the bloodshed or the baby food or the punishment, but at herself. She thought of dinner, of warm baths and hot blood. Thought of being cradled close, like a precious thing. And in the aching silence, a traitorous, dark part of herself  whispered the maid was right.

She had known Mălina somewhat well—stubborn to a fault, tongue barbed on her best days, the type to say what she thought aloud, though usually when the ladies were absent. She was not the type to lie. Her words had rung painfully true, harsh as they were. The slip had been brief, brutal, but Elena couldn’t find fault with her for it. 

She felt like the vase that doomed her, once treasured and whole, now worthless and shattered on the floor. She was less than human, a creature to prod at, play with, stroke with affection when it pleased them—a beaten dog that still returned when fingers were clicked. And yet she wore their clothes, their name, was called daughter and sister with twisted affection, but infinite meaning.

The divisions were harsh, slamming between her old life and her new like the castle gates—but there was to be no opening now, she feared.

“That was not part of your punishment,” Alcina said firmly, interrupting her spiral. “I will never allow such a thing to come to pass in my halls again.”

Elena just shook her head, leaning hard into the Lady’s neck. If she was to be carried as a princess, titled as a Lady, she wished to be a distant, cold ruler. She wanted to sleep for an age, until castle walls crumbled down, until flesh turned to bone and Lords to dust, until the world beyond ceased and she could join it.

Despair filled her, heart-rending in its intensity; no quiet companion. It scratched and scraped in the dark recesses of her mind, gnashing teeth and claws, flashes through the pervasive fog that threatened to consume her. It prowled and stalked, reaching for her, creeping and coiling like tentacles through dark, stormy waters.

She shuddered, somehow ejected from her own body.

Distantly, she leaned further into the Lady, passively aware of herself hitching awful sounds into her neck.

The Lady softened a little, sighing, tilting her head to press a small kiss to the top of Elena’s head. “You are a Dimitrescu, you are above those insolent creatures now,” she murmured. “Their words cannot hurt you. Mother will ensure it.”

There was something dangerous in the words—the promise of an early season’s harvest.

The threat in her voice did not make Elena feel any better.

“You’re tired,” Lady Dimitrescu surmised at her lazy blinking, patting her on the cheek. “Let’s prepare you for bed.”

She had taken Elena into her ensuite, brushing messy hair and teeth. She had wet a washcloth in warm water, scrubbing the food stains from Elena’s mouth and chin, then ran it impossibly gently over puffy tear-stained skin. Then, she had taken the wrist cuffs off, scrubbing the cold sweat from her wrists and then massaging the feeling back into them.

Elena accepted it all with silent, absent defeat. Downtrodden, heart and soul. 

Now she sat on the massive bed’s edge, slippers and socks discarded first. Her dress was then carefully pulled over her head, leaving her naked from the waist up. Elena couldn’t even muster up the effort to cover her chest. She just subjected herself to the indignity, eyes glassy, and waited for it to end.

A small whine eked out of her throat when the Lady’s fingers checked her diaper with clinical interest, humming when she found it dry. Elena breathed a soft sigh of relief when the Lady made no attempt to remove or replace it, instead just crossing to the wardrobe to grab a change of clothing for her.

“I regret how the evening ended,” Alcina said, helping her into some night clothes—no victorian-era night dress, this time it was a pair of pajamas, soft and fuzzy, warm against her freezing skin. “I want you to feel safe here, under our protection.”

Some of her tiredness abated, in the face of a coil of incredulity in her chest. 

Alcina picked up on it, eyes narrowing slightly. “Believe what you may. Your sisters and I want what’s best.”

“I know,” Elena croaked, unbelievably bitter—the question was what’s best for whom?

“You may not always find our actions comfortable, but many things aren’t,” Alcina replied, eyes sharp. “All we do, we do out of love.”

Her stomach turned, heavy with disgust and familiar turmoil. “You don’t even know me.”

An ominous chill descended, one that made Elena shudder, regret sinking its teeth in her chest.

Under the Lady’s suddenly harsh eyes, she whined in submission. Then, for some reason she could not place, she tilted her head up and away, baring her throat. The move was a bizarre imitation of the daughters’ behavior that she couldn’t quite understand herself making.

There was a brief look on the Lady’s face, surprise or maybe approval—but it was buried in a flash, the severe mask snapped back in place.

Alcina spoke, voice slow, deliberately careful. “I know tonight has upset you, so I will allow the flagrant disrespect out of the kindness of my heart. But do not presume to know my thoughts, on you or otherwise.” 

Cowed thoroughly, whatever fight she had mustered lived and died in her throat.

When next she spoke, Elena’s voice was low, exhausted—physically and emotionally. “I want to go to bed.”

“And so you shall,” she answered, allowing the resistance to be shuffled off the table. “After some tea.”

She twisted her fingers together, head still turned away. “Must I?”

“Yes,” Alcina replied, easily, reaching out to tilt her head back—the smile she was given was understanding, but firm. “Though you have done well for me so far, I have not had you for long. The trust I require of you is not built in a day.”

Tea was brought in by the maids, beckoned in at the Lady’s insistence.

It seemed that dinner had opened the floodgates, no longer was Elena’s presence hidden from the staff. Though she realized, perhaps a little too belatedly, that maybe it was never quite so hidden at all—a realization made of memories: flashes of tea for two, Adela’s carefully bitten out Lady Elena, the spilled tea wiped from spotless floorboards.

She kept her head down when they arrived, knees drawn to her chest and chin resting upon them. The Lady had clicked her tongue at her, seeming to have a thought of correcting her posture, but blessedly did not intervene.

“Leave it,” Alcina instructed when the maids began the process of beginning to pour Elena’s tea for her, mindful of the way the girl had begun to curl up even further, like she could physically burrow herself away from the world. “I will do it myself.”

Seemingly thankful, they curtsied hastily—to both the Lady and Elena—and then scurried back out the door. 

“You will need to get used to it,” Alcina said, reaching out to pour the tea from the small teapot into Elena’s designated cup. “Although Mother is content to serve you your tea and look after you, they will continue to serve this house and you as well. You are not one of them.”

No, she was not. Dinner, Adela, had made that disturbingly clear for her.

So who was she now, she wondered—not a maid, not truly a Dimitrescu, not a child but certainly not trusted to be an adult either. She was a mess of a creature, constructed of actions and intent beyond her reckoning. The sense of being adrift in a sea came back to her, a rowboat in turbulent waters, those creeping tendrils skittering below the surface. 

She shook her head wordlessly in response to the Lady’s statement, arms pulling tighter around her knees. It was awkward with the bunching of the diaper beneath her, but it allowed her to embrace a much-needed barrier, physically and emotionally.

She yearned to be alone, for time to process.

But the other, traitorous part of her, just wanted to be held.

“Drink,” Lady Dimitrescu instructed, after dropping two sugar cubes into the tea instead of one. “Then, it is off to bed with you.”

Broken from her reeling, Elena peered at the offered tea from behind the crest of her knees. She made no motion to take it. 

The Lady sighed then. “Do not be so petty, daughter. You drank it so willingly for me earlier, and you suffered your punishment well. What did I say about those who do not learn from history?”

She said nothing, staring.

Eyes narrowed, voice coming out demanding. “What did I say?”

She spoke, voice wobbling. “That those who do not learn from it are doomed to repeat it.”

The tea was offered to her again.

“Take it.”

She took it, legs dropping to the floor. 

Her mouth opened before she could stop it, thoughts a million miles away. “I prefer it with milk.”

The Lady paused in pouring her own cup from a separate teapot, turning her eyes up to gaze at Elena—a spark of something unreadable in her eyes, before it was swiftly killed, replaced by annoyance. “Next time,” she pressed. “Now, drink.”

Elena just wanted the night to end.

Maybe drug-induced sleep wasn’t such a bad thing, if it would secure her a calm night’s rest in the monster’s lair. 

So, despite the spiraling and reluctance in her thoughts, she slowly raised it up to her lips. The aroma was the same, cottony and fuzzy, and as she drank the tang clung to her mouth, bitter against the toothpaste that lingered. She took a few greedy gulps to drain it, then she slammed it back down on the tray with a clatter, standing on wobbly knees.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, pointedly, turning her back and clambering onto the bed with rapidly weakening limbs. 

The Lady just watched her go, slowly sipping at her own blood-touched tea with an odd smile.

The kitchen was cold, drafty in the winter. Father hadn’t been able to repair the holes last winter, and now—

Elena stirred the pot and leaned sharply into the steam, trying her best to keep the chill away. Her fingers were bone-white with the cold, but did not shake as she added honey to cover the bite of the turmeric and nettle. It was almost ready, just one more ingredient.

She reached into the back of the cupboard, to a small jar of some white powder. She shook it, biting her lip at the amount left. Not enough, never enough. She would need to speak to the Duke, as soon as she could scrounge up the lei. Perhaps Morris had some work for her, or one of the farm boys—

A low moan and cough broke her from her thoughts, and she hurried to open the jar and pinch a liberal amount of the powder into the pot.

“Elena?”

She continued to stir, dragging the shawl closer around her shoulders. “Almost done, mamă!”

The moaning continued, interspersed with wet coughs and shuffling that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She hurried to finish off the tea, lifting it from the stovetop and straining it into a chipped teapot. She wet a rag, then picked up the teapot and a single cup, bustling back over to the bed in the corner.

“Here, mamă,” Elena said, setting it down on the side table and instead helping her mother sit up in bed, propping pillows and piles of blankets around her neck. When the thin woman shivered, the shawl was removed from her shoulders, tucked around her mother’s instead. “I’ve brought you some tea. Do you think you can drink it for me?”

“Thank you, my love,” her mother, only to be broken off by horrible, shivering coughs.

Elena grabbed for the rag, swiping the red from her mother’s chin with a wretched expression. “Are you okay, mamă?”

“My sweet daughter has brought me tea and blankets. I am fine, Elena. Pour me a cup?”

She did just that, helping her mother wrap her hands around the cup but not letting go. These days, her strength was but an illusion, and though the heat would be pleasant on her skin in the harsh winter, the laundry kept her busy enough as it was. So, she helpfully coaxed it up to her mother’s lips, watchful and wary.

“My forgetful little girl,” her mother coughed, after drinking in small sips. “All good tea has milk.”

She shook her head, stomach knotting. “I’m sorry, mamă, we don’t have any left—”

“Hush, mamă is only joking with you,” her mother replied, wan face pulling into a genuine smile; it was marred by the blood between her teeth. “You are so good to me.”

She swallowed back at the lump in her throat. “I love you, mamă.”

“And I, you.” Her mother’s hand was gentle on her face. “Why are you crying?”

She reached up roughly to swipe at her tears. “Please, don’t leave me alone. ”

“I would never wish to leave you,” her mother responded, looking so, so small wrapped in all their blankets, alone in the bed that they shared. “You are my pride and joy, heart of my heart. But be strong for me, when the time comes.”

“I cannot live without you,” she whispered. “I don’t know how.”

“We all do as we must, there is no shame in it. Lean on others, let them care for you when you cannot,” her mother traced the lines of Elena’s face, so young and so deeply lost. She smiled, kissing Elena’s knuckles. “You taught me this kindness, my love. Do not withhold it from yourself when I am gone.”

Her shoulders tightened. “Don’t speak of such things.”

Her mother smiled, eyes distant. “ Your father was always so very proud of you, you know. You’re just as strong as he was.”

Elena smiled softly, sadly. “I miss him.”

“I dream of him more often now,” her mother said, after another small sip. “He tells me often how much he loves us. How much he wishes he was with us. I yearn to see his smile one last time.”

She sniffled, rubbing another tear from her eye as she gathered the empty teacup. “When the snow stops, shall we bring him flowers?”

“When the thaw comes,” her mother said, voice soft, barely a whisper—her head lolled, a soft, pleasant smile on her face. “Bury me by his side, so we may see the flowers together.”

A shudder ran up her spine, the shadows were creeping in.

“Mamă?”

Elena shook her, but received no response. “Mamă!”

The fire burned low.

She blinked, and the bed was empty.

She was alone.

Elena woke up sobbing, fighting against hands that grasped her wrists.

“Mamă,” she cried, low and keening in her throat. 

She squirmed and fought, though she didn’t really know why, her head was spinning and she felt hot all over, yet cold down to her very core. She was sweat-soaked and shivering. Grasping for ghosts with frail hands and warm smiles. 

Her eyes opened, but sightless—staring into winter-dark shadows and empty beds, into mounds of dirt with a handful of flowers.

She sobbed again, trying to bring her hands up to her face to scrub them harshly away, but unable to move them. Instead she found herself on the receiving end of the caresses, warm hands on her hot cheeks, soft and gentle and so kind. She leaned into them, despite herself, seeking the comfort, chasing the point before the dream turned to nightmare.

A gentle hand soothed down her back, soothing words cascading over her. “Shh, dragă.”

It was too large, too strong, not the bone-thin and shivering ones from her memory—

She knew these hands—

But she relaxed all the same, easing under the affection like an animal left outside too long, desperate for any scrap of kindness. A sob caught in her throat, strangled, desperate.

“It’s okay, dearest,” Alcina replied, holding her close, chin tucked on top of her head. “Mother is here.”

The words rung bitter and hollow in her, the nightmare threatening to claw a scream from her chest. But she held it down, forced herself to choke in air past the hands of the past around her throat. “Please,” she stammered into the silence, voice shuddering and heartbroken.

“What do you need, little one?”

She hated herself for asking, but—

“H-Hug me?”

The hand that was smoothing down her back stilled, then just as swiftly she was wrapped in a tight, almost smothering hug. She gasped as she was gathered up in strong arms, so warm and safe and utterly nothing like Mamă’s—and perhaps that was for the best, because her chest screamed like she had a hole for a heart, heavy anew with grief.

It was wrong, so wrong, she shouldn’t like being held like that.

She should hate the Lady, and perhaps most of the time she did. But now?

Elena could hardly bring her addled thoughts to care for anything beyond the feeling of safety, of arms and legs against her, trapping her close. She allowed herself to be held, just this once, listening to the steady thump thump of the heart beneath her ear. It felt grounding, and she tried to bring her shaky breaths into tandem with the Lady’s calm ones.

Her hands clenched in and out of fists in the Lady’s nightdress, body squirming closer as she kneaded almost like a kitten. 

The Lady stiffened beneath her a little as Elena’s face dipped deeply into the curve of her breasts, nosing absently into her cleavage, but she just as swiftly relaxed. In fact, she squeezed Elena tighter, the pressure of it like a weighted blanket. 

“You’re safe, dearest,” Alcina said, reaching out with one arm, ignoring the squeaky whine of protest as she dragged the blanket over them both. She tucked it in furiously, almost swaddling Elena into her as she renewed the hug. “All will be well.”

Elena just lulled against her chest, fussing and pressing closer to her at times, but otherwise content to be held. The tears and shaking gradually slowed, turning only to slow breathing and the occasional sniffle. But every time sleep threatened to claim her, she would jerk sharply, waking herself back up again.

“Easy, little one,” Alcina soothed after the fifth such movement. “You can sleep, Mother will watch over you.”

A low, animal whine fell from her. “I don’t want to be back there again.”

“Nightmares cannot harm you,” Alcina replied, squeezing her gently. “I will be here when you wake.”

She fought valiantly, but sleep snuck up on her slowly, succumbing to the feeling of a kiss on her head with only one last, low ‘Mamă’.

Elena came awake to the sound of a knock on the door.

Her Lady startled a little beneath her, the ripple of her muscle and slight increase of her heartbeat awakening Elena, who let out a squeaky little yawn of protest, trying to burrow her way back in with sleepy blinks.

The passage of time was incomprehensible, the shadows in the room dark still with night but lit by the glow of a low burning fire. 

Alcina huffed, cradling the back of her head to press Elena’s head back into her bosom. Then, called out, voice thickened slightly with sleep. “What is it?”

“Apologies for waking you, My Lady,” it was the Grand Chambermaid, voice muffled through the door. “The phone for you.”

Alcina scoffed. “I am busy, Roxana. Take a message.”

“It’s Mother Miranda, My Lady.”

The Countess paused, a ripple of frustration passing through her body. “Tell her I will be there soon.”

Then, she gently began to extract herself from under the blankets, unfolding them from Elena and beginning to gently extract her. Ignoring the whining, Alcina shuffled towards the edge of the bed, settling Elena in the warmth her body had left in the silk sheets. 

Despite herself, she seized the Lady’s hand as she tried to tuck her in. “Please,” she whispered shamefully, memories of her dream coming back to her. “I don’t…want to be alone.”

It was a selfish request, and the regret that tore across the Lady’s face was deep, powerful. But they both knew she was helpless to the beckoning of that phone, to the expectant woman waiting on the end. One did not simply keep Mother Miranda waiting. 

A gentle, lingering kiss was pressed to her cheek. “I am sorry, little one,” she said. “I will not be long.”

Elena’s hand dropped as if burned. Ashamed and embarrassed.

“Relax, my love,” Alcina bridged the gap, seizing the hand again and pressing a kiss to each knuckle. “I will send your older sister up to you. Would you like that?”

Her voice quavered, a request more than a question. “Daniela?”

“If it pleases you,” the Lady replied. “She will protect you.”

And she would, Elena knew that, felt it in ways she could hardly describe.

Despite the way the redhead terrified her, despite the fact that Bela would be the safest of them all, there was something yearning in her. An invisible tether, forged through humiliation and protection, through mutual understanding. The thought of a reassuring hand in hers and soft, kind words warmed her somewhere beneath her breast.

And, unbidden, she relaxed. Nodded her head.

“I will send her,” Alcina replied, leaning in one last time to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Be good.”

Elena stared after her, mouth tingling and stomach churning as she was left alone.

“Baby sister!”

Daniela arrived in a buzz, not even opening the doors; she just swam under them, a trickle of flies pouring out then up, reforming before Elena’s eyes into a smiling, excitable creature once more. 

Elena was curled up in the blankets, shivering, as he had been since the Lady had left her. It was not due to the cold; the Lady had been thoughtful enough to drop another log in and stoke the fire before she left. Rather, it was the shifting shadows in the room and the overwhelming sense of exposure she felt—like her guard dog had been taken away, and now she was waiting for worse monsters to descend.

When Elena did not rise to greet her, Daniela swarmed over to the bed. “Hello, anybody home?”

Elena remained under the covers, but she did shuffle a little with her jellied limbs so she sat up slightly, peeking out of her impromptu nest.

“Oh, what is this blanket creature?” Daniela said, leaning in close, their noses almost touching as she grinned. “Is my baby sister in there?”

The hair at the back of her neck raised from being so close to the wildest of the three daughters, despite whatever progress they had made at dinner. Almost without thinking, she jerked sharply backwards, falling into the pillows with a little oof.

Seemingly overjoyed by the cuteness of it all, Daniela giggled, descending on top of her like it was an invitation to puppy pile. “Mother said you asked for me!” Daniela crowed, wrapping her arms around her in a strange hug, impeded only by the blanket Elena was wrapped in. She was doing that weird, buzzy, hazy sort of shiver again and her eyes were huge. “Bela and Cassie are going to be so jealous!”

She gasped a little as her fellow redhead’s arms trapped her own at her sides beneath the blanket. “Daniela—”

“Call me Dani,” she replied, crawling happily up Elena’s body so she could poke her head further into the gap of blankets around her face, their noses brushing again. “Or big sister. Or big sister Dani!”

“Dani,” Elena amended, going almost cross-eyed but unable to move backwards. “Can you…?”

The redhead leaned even closer, their lips almost touching now. “Can I…?”

She whined, low in her throat. “Give me some space, please?”

“I don’t want to.” 

The sudden, emphatic answer surprised her somewhat, but not quite as much as the way Daniela lifted herself off, only to rip the blankets off of her.

Elena tried to protest, but just as suddenly Daniela had slipped inside of it and dragged it sharply over both of their heads, closing out the soft fire light. On her elbows and knees, Daniela sat across her waist, forearms braced themselves on either side of Elena’s head so she could lean in close. In the dark, she couldn’t make out anything besides the softest glow of Daniela’s eyes and the soft puff of breath on her face.

Her stomach dropped low, anxiety and fear and something greater than both. “Dani—”

“Shh, big sister’s here,” Daniela hushed her, leaning in to nose at the side of Elena’s cheek, huffing into her. A tongue licked gently at the skin behind her ear, testing. “You smell good. Mother’s been making you sweat?”

She didn’t know what to make of that, beyond a gasp. “N-Nightmare?”

“I get those, sometimes,” the redhead mused, voice only half there, nosing further into her, under her jaw and into the crook of her neck. “What was it about?”

Her throat squeezed. “Home.”

“In the village?”

“Yes,” Elena answered, voice thick.

“Why’s it so bad?” Daniela asked, a hand finding the back of Elena’s head, tangling in loose red waves and jerking her head backwards, a little harsh, which she apologized for with a soft kiss at the skin of Elena’s throat. “Do you miss it?”

Elena’s eyes closed, squeezing shut as a strange sound eked out of her. “I—I miss my parents.”

“You don’t need them,” a cheek was rubbed into the curve of Elena’s shoulder, affectionate and innocent and strange. She got the feeling Daniela was doing something to her, a strange prickling in her hindbrain somewhere that felt the strange spike in the air. There was an almost possessive rumble in Daniela’s voice. “You have us.”

She wanted to shake her head, but the hand in her hair kept her still. The scratch of nails against her scalp was pleasant, almost.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why would it be?” Daniela asked, lips dragging down as far as the collar of her shirt would allow. “We’re better.”

A bitter feeling welled up in her, the urge to snap rocketing through her like a wave. Despite the alarm bells blaring through her, she puffed up like an angry cat. Spitting out into the darkness, “You don’t understand.”

Daniela froze, then, sitting up sharply. She sat tall, the blankets sliding off of them both, breaking the moment.

A low sound, buzzing and layered, rumbling like a snarl. “What did you say?”

She understood immediately, primally, that she had said something terribly wrong.

“What did you say,” Daniela demanded again, pouring back over her, suddenly menacing in the fire’s light. The shadows were dark around her face. She came closer now, smiling but with far too many teeth, the edge of something dangerous on her face. 

Elena froze, trapped under her, weak as a newborn and realizing maybe she had made the wrong choice of sisters—

“You’re just like the rest of them,” Daniela spat, angry and horrible and somehow hurt. Her voice grew intense in its fury. “You think I don’t understand anything? You think I’m the crazy one? The useless one? Stuck up in the library all day with my head in the clouds? How could I possibly understand anything!”

“No, please,” Elena whispered, struggling against her own heavy limbs to reach out. “I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

Teeth snapped in the dark, a hand caught her wrist hard. No longer the soft touch from earlier that night, now harsh, unrelenting, almost hard enough to bruise. Daniela leaned in close, close enough to drink in the air, the sharp spike of fear around her. “Then how did you mean it, baby sister?”

She swallowed tightly, uncertain who scared her more in their rage. 

“I-I—” her throat worked uselessly. “I just…my parents are dead, Daniela. There’s nothing for me there but their graves and—I was alone for so long, after. Then I got here—it was scary, but the other maids were nice, I was happy! But then all of this happened, and—they looked at me like I was trash.”

Elena’s voice broke, the memory of dinner and her dream coming back and clawing deep into the soft parts of her. Her voice grew lower, softer, crying now. “I’m so sick of losing people, of being hurt, I just want it to stop—”

The older girl reeled back as if she’d been struck, settling harshly down into Elena’s lap as she stared down at her, watching her wail. She seemed to struggle with the furious parts of herself, hands clenching and unclenching, her eyes dark. A look that got darker as louder tears began, the younger girl cringing like she expected to be hit.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Daniela reached out to slap a palm over her mouth. “So just stop crying!”

Elena quieted, but the ghost of shuddering sobs continued to rock through her, the tears continuing to pour down her cheeks. She used her free hand, slowly lurching up to try and wipe at her own cheeks, digging roughly into her eyes instead. The other wrist jerked in Daniela’s hand, but found no freedom.

Daniela stared down at her, sobering up perhaps, beginning to look almost regretful—angry, yes, but by her own actions. “I’m sorry.”

Elena blinked tears away, staring up at her. “I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean it,” Daniela replied, all of the tension leaving her in an instant as she leaned forward. Her hands shifted, cupping Elena’s cheek to wipe at the trailing tears herself. Her lip wobbled, suddenly overcome with despair as she started to cry too. “I’m an awful big sister.”

She gaped up at Daniela as she cried, heart squeezing for a reason she couldn’t place. “No, that’s not true,” she argued, eyes averting, unsure of why she was trying to comfort someone who had helped bring her so much pain. “You’re good, Dani. During dinner, you—I wouldn’t have made it through without you.”

“I took care of you?”

Slowly, shakily, Elena nodded. “You…tried to protect me, when nobody else did.”

The answering smile was almost manic, so wide it threatened to split Daniela’s cheeks. She was beaming, giggling as she leaned in to rub their noses together, ignoring all the tears from both of them. “Because I love you, silly,” she replied, squeezing Elena’s cheeks until she looked like a fish, then giggling. “I waited forever to play with you!”

Whatever Elena tried to mumble was lost to squeezing fingers and fish lips.

The older girl looked unbothered by the struggling, her thoughts clearly drifting as she cocked her head, staring down at Elena with something strange on her face. A narrow eyed look came upon her, and she leaned in heavily now, letting her cheeks go, instead running a thumb close to Elena’s mouth, rubbing gently across her lower lip.

Frozen, Elena let it happen, eyes widening as the thumb tugged at the corner of her mouth, forcing her to bare her lower canine tooth.

Daniela scented the air with interest. “Do you want to play with me?”

Her heart shot into her throat. She knew there was something else layered in that request.

Daniela’s thumb began to creep further, just barely breaching the seal of her mouth, dragging over a tooth.

She swallowed harshly. “I—”

Abruptly, Lady Dimitrescu slammed the door open with a bellow. “You will do no such thing, Daniela!”

Daniela jumped about a foot in the air, literally—and would surely have crushed Elena back beneath her if it wasn’t for a quick-thinking swarm, scattering and reforming innocently to Elena’s left, as if she’d never done a thing. “Mother!”

“What did I tell you?”

The redhead froze under the Lady’s gaze as she stormed closer, then seemed to think it safer to crawl her way behind Elena—as if that would stop the Lady when she was on a rampage. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Do you think me deaf, daughter?” Alcina raged. “Do you think I did not hear you ask her to play? In my bed?”

Daniela wrapped around her, then, dragging Elena into her lap like a doll and coiling around her. “I was just asking!”

“Spoiled girl! I told you and your sisters,” Alcina scowled, “that she was not to play with you until I deem her ready! You dare undermine me?”

Elena shrunk at the intensity on the Lady’s face, her countenance truly frightening. Though, it was a new feeling to not be the one the attention was directed at. The sudden plunge in temperature in the room, too, sharply reminded her of the animal way she had punished Cassandra.

Daniela whined into her neck like a sad puppy, pressing her face into Elena’s cheek and rubbing it ever so slightly, anxiety coming off of her in waves. “Mother…”

That, however, seemed only to make Alcina more angry. “You dare scent her like a dog in front of me?”

The fury in her voice made Elena and Daniela both shrink, cringing together in the face of her rage. 

“I’m sorry, Mother! I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize,” Alcina demanded, sharply. “Do better.”

“I will, Mother! I’m sorry!”

Some of her bluster fell away, then, at the sight of her two youngest children huddling away from her like kicked dogs. Her eyes slid from Daniela to Elena, to the way their hands were tangled defensively together. It wasn’t quite guilt that came over her face, but rather a tiny bit of regret.

She softened, sighing. “Apologies, my darlings, Mother has had a…rough night.”

Daniela relaxed a little at the unexpected apology, and Elena breathed a sigh of relief, leaning backwards into her—the weirdly charged moment had passed between them, and now she felt content to shrink back into her boa constrictor-esque hold, shoving all thoughts about what playing meant out of her head.

“Mother Miranda?” Daniela guessed, tentative.

“Mm,” Alcina hummed, non-committal.

Daniela twisted her fingers nervously with Elena’s, likely waiting to be evicted from the room as Lady Dimitrescu moved closer to the best. But, a pleased look came upon her when the Lady did the opposite. Toeing off her slippers, she picked both Elena and Daniela up with one easy move, reclaiming her original spot in her bed. Then manhandled them into a cuddle, Daniela’s head under her chin and Elena tucked up beneath Daniela’s, held like a stuffed toy.

There was a moment of excited wriggling from Daniela and squirming from Elena, but the Lady shut it down swiftly as she pulled the blankets sharply over all of them and wrapped them in a too-tight hug. 

“Go to sleep, girls,” Alcina commanded. Then, more to Daniela than Elena, “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Chapter Text

Elena awakened far too hot, with a knee in her bladder.

She yawned herself awake, high and squeaky, content to lull there for a blissful moment in the threshold between sleep and waking. But, the press of the blankets and bodies around her eventually became too much, as was the persistent jab in her side. 

Daniela whined as she began to pry herself from the hold, golden eyes fluttering open slightly. “Mm?”

“M’hot,” Elena slurred in answer, squirming away from her. “Bathroom.”

The redhead made as if to hold her tighter, but Elena was slippery and shifted away from her before Daniela could pull her back in. Instead, she shoved a pillow into the girl’s arms, the surety in her limbs telling her it had been a few hours since she last woke. Daniela accepted the warm pillow with a sigh, sinking back to sleep almost immediately.

She squinted into the darkness, barely lit by embers of the fire. The Lady had shifted them in the night, and she faced Elena now, her head tucked into Daniela’s back. One long arm ran the width of the bed, just barely brushing at the tips of her hair. Her face was peaceful, lax in a way she couldn’t imagine the Lady being.

She crawled from the bed, careful not to wake either of the Dimitrescu women. Whatever Mother Miranda had wanted from the Lady seemed to have exhausted her, because she didn’t even stir at the shifting bed or sound of Elena’s bare feet on the floor. 

She shut the ensuite door quietly, carefully locking it despite knowing it wouldn’t do any real good. The sound echoed in her ears, and she paused. But there were only soft snores from the other room. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Nature called, so she kicked off her pajama pants, immediately remembering the diaper. It felt forbidden to touch it, to dare remove it; an autonomy the Lady had not yet afforded her. But the pressure in her bladder was not abating, and she refused to willingly use it. So, easing the sticky plastic tabs off as quietly as she could, she tugged it off.

A hot flush of emotion welled up when she realized it was wet. Her throat tightened, but she swallowed it down with difficulty.

The tea, she reminded herself in mortification, it’s because of the tea.

Careful hands folded it shut, sealing the edges. Then it was dropped into the Lady’s trash can with a disgusted, embarrassed flush making its way down her chest. 

The humiliation was swapped for relief, as she relieved herself quickly and washed her hands. A measure of control reclaimed, human necessity that made her a little more herself. She still felt a little gross, though, and rifled through the vanity for some wet wipes, carefully cleaning herself so she could pretend she hadn’t been marinating in her own pee all night. She dumped the wipes in the trash, too, then scrunched a few clean ones on top just to try and bury her shame.

She yearned for a bath—on her own, ideally—but knew running one would be a death wish, more than she’d already had. So, it would have to do.

Elena pulled her pants back on. She had no underwear, but it was ultimately preferable to wearing another diaper. 

A flash of red caught her eye in the mirror, her eyes drawn to her own reflection. She looked sleep-ruffled, hair wild and wrinkles on her cheek. But there was a puffiness to her eyes and cheeks that spoke of the state of her last few days. There were also a few soft, pink marks around her neck—Daniela’s affection last night, she presumed, though she couldn’t recall her making them.

She splashed some water on her face, just to try and bury the image. 

It didn’t work, she was still herself—despite everything. 

Shaking her head, droplets cascading down her neck, she reached back to sip some water. It was cool and refreshing, a balm to raw nerves and raging thoughts. The quiet and the alone allowed her some much needed clarity, space to finally think.

Last night had rattled her, the humiliation, the loss, and the dream—

The last one threatened to make her sob anew, so she abandoned those thoughts there.

Instead, she buried her knuckles into her cheeks, bit her tongue, tried to think of where she could go from here. The answer was frustratingly elusive. There was no place for her in the castle, except as whatever she was now. Her home in the village was a drafty house with two graves, and far too close. There was no place for her anywhere that mattered.

She clenched her fists, squeezing some of the excess water out of her hair, then tugging on it once to ground herself.

You can’t stay here, she told herself, feeling the truth of it in her bones. 

There was too much happening, too much changing day by day, to her and within her. And she was scared of where the path would take her, down a slippery slope she felt like she was standing at the top of, with unknown pitfalls at the bottom.

The problem was how to do it. 

It had to be now, with her limbs somewhat sure of themselves again and the two Dimitrescu women slumbering like the dead.

But how was she to get outside? The keys felt like a moot point now, undoubtedly moved. Daniela did not appear to have any with her, and if the Lady did have hers, she wasn’t going to even try to pilfer it and risk awakening her.

A half-forgotten story came to her, dredged out of somewhere in the past: of a few nights before her first service to the family, when Adela had been teaching her how to pour wine, a cautionary tale. There was a girl, she’d said, who was punished for spilling wine and taken down to the cellar; she had escaped her cell somehow, and the groundskeeper had found her in the thaw, frozen to death but halfway to the village. 

It made an idea spark in her head, perhaps a horrible one, but an idea all the same.

No one willingly went to the cellar, except the daughters. She’d heard that much of the cavernous tunnels were crumbling, in disrepair from disuse over the centuries. Did that mean there was an opening? 

Elena drew back on the same bravery that had gotten her in trouble so many times in her life, feeling it swell hotly in her chest and making her blood thrum. It was the same stupid, hotblooded thing that had led to her fleeing the Lady that first time. Her stomach turned with adrenaline, but she drew her shoulders back with resolve—it had to be now.

Stepping back from the vanity, she made for the bathroom door. She cracked it slowly open, eyes on the bed.

They were still snoring, unmoving, oblivious to her movements. 

On light feet, she eased herself over to the bedroom doors, pressing one palm to the soft wood and the other to the handle. It rotated quietly in her hands, meeting no resistance.

The door was unlocked.

The revelation shocked her, but then she remembered the way the Lady burst in to stop Daniela’s suggestion of playing. She had not locked it. Perhaps as a test, perhaps unintentional, but in any case—

It swung open quietly as she pushed it, well-oiled, and revealed the empty hallway beyond. It was still and quiet, not a maid in sight.

Elena had no real plan, hedging it all on a maid’s tale, but she had to try.

She took one last nervous look at the two, coiled in bed together like slumbering cats, then padded quietly through the door and into the unknown.

The grandfather clock in the main hall showed almost 4AM, and Elena breathed a small sigh of relief.

It was too early for any maids to be out, except whoever was on kitchen duty. The bakers weren’t due in the kitchens for a little while either. The rest of the castle should be slumbering. The only liabilities to her escape were Cassandra and Bela, who could be anywhere, a terrifying prospect.

But Elena did not have time to dally in fear. She had made her choice the minute she had left the room—the clock was, quite literally, counting down.

Her entire descent into the castle had been with an ear pricked towards the Lady’s chambers, awaiting the sound of her shouting when she discovered Elena had absconded in the night. But there had been nothing, just terrifying silence.

She didn’t know how long the Lady and Daniela would sleep for. She wasn’t strictly sure they even needed sleep. It was a horrible idea to have run away from them both. But she had no time for regrets. The only thing worse than running was being caught, as she’d learned.

There were multiple paths to the cellar, but the quickest and most accessible would be through the kitchen. The pantry backed onto the cellar, the key to it slung on a hook by the door. Nobody was stupid enough to go down there, only sometimes the daughters, so they had never bothered securing it. It would be easy.

The biggest problem wasn’t getting into the cellars—it was through the kitchen.

Elena slipped inside to the repetitive thunk of a kitchen knife against a cutting board. She had little hope to hide her presence, and not any real opportunity to, as the maid turned to grab another bowlful of tomatoes and caught sight of her. The knife clattered, forgotten, as the maid drew herself up tightly in the corner. Her head inclined, submissive, almost fearful in her presence.

“Good morning, Lady Elena.”

She froze, looking Adela’s familiar green eyes—they were hard, unreadable.

“Adela,” she greeted, voice thick with hurt and a million other things unsaid. She wanted to reach out, but thought better of it. “I…didn’t expect it to be you.”

A grimace. “It’s Mălina’s turn, I am…covering her.”

The name was a bitter twist in Elena’s gut, but she said nothing in response, just stared at Adela and was stared back at in turn. The two of them existed for a long moment, once friends now made strangers in two mere days. It felt like a no-man’s land of unsaid things between them. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Adela said, eventually, taking in her bare feet and pajamas. “They will come for you.”

Elena clenched her fists, sick of people telling her what to do. “I’ll be long gone by then. I’m going out the cellar.”

“Don’t,” Adela seemed to want to reach for her, but thought better of it. Her voice was harsh, begging for Elena to see some sense. “You’ll get yourself, and me, killed if I let you go down there. There’s more than just cells down there, you know?”

“I don’t care,” Elena answered. “I’m going, Adela.”

“Elena, please,” Adela begged, now, dropping the title. “Even if you make it out, it’s winter out there! What then? You’ll catch your death.”

“I have to risk it. You know I do.” Her hands were trembling now, she realized. She hissed around a lump in her throat. “You saw what they’re doing to me, Adela. How could I possibly stay? Do you think I want this?”

“I think there are worse things to be in this castle,” Adela said, slowly and carefully, “than theirs.”

“I am not an object to be claimed!” Elena snapped, bristling. “They don’t care for me, they’re obsessed with me.”

“You are safe with them,” Adela said, again, with a surety that Elena didn’t feel. “They kill for you.”

“I didn’t ask for that!”

“It doesn’t matter. We must accept our lot in life to survive here, Elena.” There was a shade of something like regret on Adela’s face, but it was killed and buried beneath the frigid manner almost immediately. In its place, the sharp division between them both became clear, once more, as Adela stepped further away from her. “You are theirs, now. Not ours. And they will kill for you—again and again, if they must.”

She shook her head. “I’m going.”

“You won’t make it.”

“I will,” Elena said, sharp. “Or I’ll die out there, in the snow. Why does it matter?”

“You won’t have to deal with the aftermath.”

The declaration plunged the kitchen into a deep, harsh silence. The stark realization that it wasn’t her that Adela cared about, not anymore, but whatever would happen afterwards settling like a knife in Elena’s chest.

She reached deep inside herself, tried to kill her wounded heart in the way that Adela had once taught her—how to step over the corpse of a friend and keep serving, she remembered. A useless effort. Her chest ached like it had been gored open.

Adela was willing to step over her.

“Is this what it comes down to?”

If there was any feeling in Adela left, it was cold and frozen like the soil outside. “I don’t intend to die in this castle, Elena.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then go, if you think it’ll do you any good,” Adela said at last, bitter, eyes green like poison. “I’m not lying for you again.”

The cellar key was right where she expected it to be, unlocking the door with a loud clank.

Adela did not stop her as she delved into the pantry. She just watched, silent and judgmental, as Elena unlocked the door down into the cellar, creaking it open and staring down the stairs. She reached out, taking an old flashlight from the storage shelf. It flickered but held, and she pointed it down, squinting into the darkness. It was dark, quiet. It felt like entering the gates of hell.

Elena took one last look at her with cold eyes. “Goodbye, Adela.”

The cellar was awful, put lightly.

Elena jumped at each shadow, the flashlight a dim lifeline as she moved in search of escape.

Though the rooms closest to the pantry were wider and more open, filled with wine casks and other supplies. But the further she descended into them, the danker and narrower they became. Until the walls began to press in on her like a physical thing, the very air itself stagnant and heavy. 

She grimaced as she stepped barefoot through a puddle of freezing water, slowly dripping from a cracked pipe overhead. It was stupid, leaving without shoes or a coat. She would be lucky to make it through the snow to the village on a normal day, let alone risking frostbite and lycans and all other manner of things. Assuming, of course, she made it out to begin with.

It was her only chance, though.

“Hello?”

Elena called out into the creeping darkness, hearing a shuffling noise somewhere in the distance. Her flashlight cast around anxiously, but she could make out nothing, just cobblestone walls and inky darkness. Her heart thundered, but she couldn’t afford to stop, so she forced her trembling legs to keep going.

She slowly pressed down the thin hallway, ears straining. But she heard nothing but shuffling and what might be breathing.

Swallowing heavily, her flashlight swung. “Hello?”

There was no answer.

Elena felt the dread fill her to the tips of her toes, almost considered turning back. But she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, easing out of the narrow hallway and into a wider, rounder room. The path curved in two directions, cells to her left and to her right. They were virtually indistinguishable. 

But in the distance, if she listened close—faint shuffling and heavy, raspy breathing.

Everything screamed in her not to, but her feet took her left before she could process it. Down a dark row of cells, blood-splattered and awful, the smell of thick copper was enough to make her press her wrist to her nose. Her flashlight caught on rusted iron, implements of torture and chains. The sight of them set fear spiraling deep inside of her.

She had heard the rumors of what went on down here, heard the screams, but—

Elena passed the light through another cage, towards the shuddering breaths, then froze. She knew that face.

“P-Please,” Mălina croaked, barely able to draw in breath. “N-No more—”

The severed arm had been bandaged, but not with any great care, just enough to keep her from bleeding out. The bandages were saturated in blood, but a bucket had been placed beneath it, catching the overflow. Her other arm was bound downwards, riddled in cuts and slices. Another bucket was poised under that side.

They were draining her—

Elena slammed a hand over her mouth, a strangled gasp leaving her. 

A low, raspy inhale. “It’s y-you—”

“Mălina,” she whispered, hands curled desperately around the bars. “I’m so sorry.”

A wry laugh fell from the woman’s lips, croaking and horrible. Her nose was still broken, her throat ringed in dark bruises, peeking out from behind a metal collar that bound her in place. “I…made my…bed,” she heaved, eyes glazed. “Always b-been mouthy…s-surprised it took…so long.”

She wanted to sob, but nothing would come. Just horror. “I never wanted this.”

“I always h-hated this f-fucking castle,” Mălina gasped, eyes distant. 

Something clattered in the distance, a rat scurrying by her ankle in a desperate flee. Her flashlight jerked down the hallway, but saw nothing in the inky darkness. It flashed off a few times, before slowly coming back on.

Louder shuffling, deep and groaning breaths, something scraping against concrete—

Mălina shivered. “They’re—coming—”

“Who’s coming?”

“M-Monsters,” Mălina moaned. “T-The other maids…I don’t w-want to be one.”

“Be what?” she asked, desperate. “What are they?”

Mălina did not answer, sinking into silent shivering.

Elena swung around as something rounded the corner, from the direction she had come. It was tall when her flashlight snapped to it, impossibly pale and draped in black rags. It was thin like a corpse, hobbling like the undead. A sword hung from its hand, dragging on the floor.

She screamed, throwing herself backwards as she turned and ran.

Her feet slammed through the hallways, as fast as she could go, ignoring the dirt and blood and water that ran across her feet. She hissed as a shard of something caught her, blood spilling on the concrete. But she kept running, down row upon row of cells. All the while she heard it behind her, following, sword scraping in the seething dark.

She cried out when she tripped over a pile of rubble in the dark, her knees and hands hitting the floor hard. The flashlight rolled out of her hand, shattering on the cement and plunging her into almost pure darkness, but for a little sliver of light in the distance. Light—

She struggled to get up, but the adrenaline helped her force her aching limbs to work. If she could just make it to the light, then maybe there would be safety. She forced herself to limp, slow and unsteady, blood trickling down her legs and sweat on the back of her neck. She could feel the monster behind her, but couldn’t bring herself to look back.

Elena hobbled down the hallway, grimacing with each step. “This was so fucking stupid,” she whined, tears running down her cheeks. “Fuck. Fuck.”

The creature behind her groaned in response, advancing.

She scrambled as best she could, but it wasn’t enough. The light was still too far, she reached out towards it as if she could drag it closer—

A cold, clammy hand seized her by the shoulder and tugged. She yelped as her shoulder was almost ripped from its socket, spun around to stare at the glassy-eyed creature. 

“Get off of me!” she cried, struggling against it. “No—”

It leaned in, mouth open to bare crooked and horrible teeth, the air thick with decay. It let out a low, groaning noise at her, the sword in its hand dragging horribly on the floor and sending up sparks. She struggled in its hold, screaming as it leaned in towards her neck, as if to bite her. Her eyes closed.

This is it, she was going to die.

But then it inhaled deeply, snarls stuttering to a stop.

And it dropped her.

She slid down the wall, heart about to explode out of her chest. “W-What the fuck?”

It drew back, turning on its heel back the way it came.

She stared after it, as it continued on its shambling patrol undeterred, ignoring her as it began to move back down the hallway. 

Her hands shook in her lap, her bleeding feet throbbed and her knees both skinned, but she was alive. Somehow, for reasons unknown, it had left her alone. She wasn’t about to waste that. It took an age to struggle to her feet, longer too for her legs to work. Her entire body ached like a bruise, but she forced herself onwards.

She dragged herself towards the light at the end of the hall, as fast as her body could manage.

There was a small pile of old, broken bricks on the floor. She ran her bloody hands up, towards the gap. It was small, barely enough to put a hand through, new bricks slapped in the place of old ones, but without cement—like whoever had attempted to patch it had decided it wasn’t worth their time. A freezing cold slipped from the cracks in the wall, colder than even the cellar, and hope flooded through her.

“I knew it,” she whispered, eyes widening as she began to dig, getting more dirt into the cuts on her palms. Her heart was racing as she pulled brick after brick, as the small, freezing gap grew ever bigger. A few small flecks of snow began to fall through. She fought to widen the cracks, almost laughing despite how much she ached. “I knew it was here!”

She wasn’t sure how long she dug for, slowly widening it out. But heedless of her injuries, she crawled slowly up the pile of bricks, unearthing inch by inch of precious space. She could almost see the outside, just little more and she might even be able to squeeze her way out—

A hand seized her by the ankle, dragging her hard through the rubble and to the floor. 

Dazed and winded, Elena stared wide-eyed up into Cassandra’s pale, shivering face. 

“You are in so much trouble.”

Chapter Text

“I’m not going back!” 

Cassandra was pale-faced and strangely slow to react as Elena scrambled, dodging her grasping hands and dragging herself back towards the pile of bricks and safety.

Desperation fueled her as she clawed at the hole. She kicked and screamed as hands reached after her, even sank her teeth deep into the skin of Cassandra’s wrist when she tried to grab her hair, ignoring the brunette’s groan. A hand grasped her twisted ankle, sending up a flair of pain, but she kicked free. “Get off me!”

A few more bricks tumbled down as Elena struggled back to the hole, and Cassandra hissed as a few specks of snow leached through it, settling in her hair. She made a few desperate grabs for Elena’s ankle, but was fended off by flailing feet.

“Ow, fuck. Stop struggling,” Cassandra growled, flinching back with a split lip from a well-placed kick. “I don’t want to hurt you! I’m trying to—fuck—help you!”

Elena kicked at her again, desperately clawing more bricks free. “Fuck off!”

“You’ll die out there, stupid!” Cassandra said, moving slower now, weaker as she tugged at Elena’s aching legs.

The adrenaline kept Elena fighting, struggling against hands that pulled. “Better than in here!”

They fought each other for a few moments, and where Cassandra’s supernatural strength should have normally been enough to drag her kicking and screaming, Elena found her alarmingly, humanly weak. Cassandra was strong, yes, but even her grip seemed to be weakening as the struggle continued, as Elena bashed bricks away, heedless of how it bloodied her knuckles and palms.

The freezing winter air was descending in full force now, and Elena tasted the chill like a promise. It emboldened her frantic struggles, surprising her when Cassandra’s hands faltered and voice caught in a low wheeze.

“Please—”

The hand that touched her ankle then was soft, pleading and far too cold—that, more than anything, gave Elena pause. There was tugging, but barely there, more a gentle suggestion than anything.

She gripped bricks hard in her hand, heart hammering in her chest, and dared to glance back. 

The brunette shivered, a small, choking sound coming from low in her throat. “You c-can’t go out there,” she said, words weaker than Elena had ever heard her. Her voice was almost begging. “It’s too c-cold. I can’t let you!”

More flurries of snow came in around them, heavier now, the wind slicing down her back through her pajama shirt. It was a blustery winter’s day, a terrible time to escape. She was injured, bare foot, light-headed. She doubted she would make it far. But she was poised to stage it anyway, mere inches of bricks from her freedom.

But she felt as cold as the day outside, something dreadful in her as she looked at Cassandra—

Who was freezing.

Literally.

The middle daughter’s face was going a strange white at the edges, cracking and allowing a few insects to fall. They barely buzzed before collapsing, white and motionless on the floor.

“P-Please,” Cassandra tried again. “Not like this—I won’t let you.”

The hand on her ankle was like ice, and Elena watched as cracks began to form there too.

“I don’t think you can stop me,” she said, blood loud in her own ears. 

“I-I will,” Cassandra panted, but there was no strength in her words; just ice, crawling up her neck.

Elena paused, something strange curling up her spine. “Are you okay?”

“Please,” Cassandra gasped again, a hand reaching out to her, crystal flecks falling from her skin. “Don’t…leave!”

And it was a horrible, stupid, terrible idea.

She hated Cassandra. Hated the way she laughed at Elena’s pain, hated the casual way she inflicted harm with joy. She hated her attitude, haughty and playful at all the wrong moments, always poking fun just to see others squirm. She hated the fact that it was Cassandra who had caused her to be here.

She hated Cassandra, but—

But Cassandra had protected her, once, even without being asked.

And now she was sitting there so pathetic, shivering and reaching out for her, body falling apart.

And she wasn’t Adela. 

She tried to kill her heart, gore it and squeeze it to pulp—but it beat stubbornly onwards. It ached at the sight of Cassandra like that, so weak and lost and broken, so wrong. They weren’t sisters, weren’t friends; there was nothing between them but torment and false bonds. But Elena refused to step over someone else’s body just to save herself.

It would spell her doom, she would surely get no other chance at this—

With slow, regretful motions, she came to crouch down next to Cassandra. Her bloody hands settled on frosty cheeks, trying to press the warmth back in. She grimaced at the feeling of flies, thoraxes cold. “What do you need?”

“Warm,” Cassandra answered, shivering and leaning into her touch. The relief on her face was palpable. “S’too c-cold.”

Elena’s body was achy and barely working. The wounds of today and yesterday stung fiercely, and she could feel hot and sticky blood leaking past her pants and from her feet. It barely wanted to cooperate. But Cassandra’s body was shaking apart, so she had no choice but to try.

“We need to move you,” she said, reaching out.

Her bloody palms burned as she tugged on the shoulders of Cassandra’s dress, her injured feet dragging horribly on the stone. She was too weak to heft her, so dragging was the best she could do.

Cassandra shuffled as best she could, but her movements were jerky, limb-locked by the ice.

A trail of flies dropped behind them as she slowly, painfully, carefully dragged Cassandra away from the brick pile.

“I’m sorry,” Elena apologized, chest heavy. “I—I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Cassandra made a pained sound as a few more flies fell from her left hand. “Just get me w-warm, then we can deal with M-Mother.”

Her adrenaline sparked at the thought of the Lady, but she forced herself to be calm. It was hard to stay in the moment, tempting to succumb to calm waters and raging storms. But she forced herself to be present, to master her fear if only for a moment. 

Instead, when her arms and legs began to fail, she propped the brunette up against a wall and sank down after her. The position made her knees ache. “It’ll be okay,” she coaxed, reaching out to grab Cassandra’s trembling hands as gently as she could, then stuffing them into her shirt, under the heft of her breasts where the skin ran warmest. “Is that helping?”

“N-Not how I imagined touching them for the first time,” Cassandra admitted, trying to be casually flirty and failing. “Still c-cold.”

Elena bit at her bottom lip, then crowded in closer. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Cassandra gasped slightly when Elena crawled into her lap, hands curling tighter in the warmth of her chest. But she said nothing as Elena arranged them both, her painful knees on either side of Cassandra’s hips, arms tossed around Cassandra’s shoulders. To top it off, she leaned heavily into her, into a hug she never would have otherwise given.

“What’s happening to you?” Elena asked, settling her cheek into Cassandra’s shoulder. 

The freezing girl shivered but made no argument, in fact a soft, almost pleased sigh came out of her as Elena’s warmth wrapped around her. “C-Cold,” she answered. “It’s not…good for us.”

“All of you?”

“Sisters,” she answered. “The flies don’t…like it.”

Elena wore at her lip with her teeth—they had a weakness.

“Should you be telling me that?”

“You’re my little sister,” Cassandra said, a possessive rumble in her voice. Her eyes were a little distant. “Mine.”

“I did this to you,” Elena replied, a thread of guilt in it that she buried her forehead into the soft, freezing skin of Cassandra’s shoulder. “I tried to run away.”

Cassandra took in a shuddery breath, but her voice was stabilizing. “You came back.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” she answered. Then, continued. “I’ll probably try again.”

A hazy chuckle was pressed into her hair. “I’ll catch you.”

“Is the Lady going to kill me?”

“Never,” Cassandra retorted, but her voice was soft. “But your punishment…”

The idea made her shiver. “I’m scared.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” Cassandra replied, but there was something else in the way she said it—not haughty or fierce, as Elena had often thought of her, but rather something sad. “Especially down here.”

As if summoned, there was movement in the distance, something shifting.

Elena’s eyes widened.“What do we do? If that thing comes back—”

“Moroaică,” Cassandra said, breath raspy in the curve of her neck, eyes closed. “They won’t…hurt you—smell too much like us. Like Dani.”

She paused then, memories coming back: the rub of a cheek in the crook of her neck, the Lady’s half-bitten words: scenting her like a dog. It snapped into clarity, then, why the creature had dropped her. It hadn’t been inattention or disinterest, it had been the smell of Daniela on her, protecting her once again.

“Okay,” she answered, hands shaking. “Okay, that’s…that’s good. But what do we do?”

Cassandra’s answer was to shiver again, leaning harshly into Elena’s warmth. Her hands, which had been pinned beneath her breasts, instead moved up with a little more strength than before. Elena gasped when Cassandra cupped her chest instead, small breasts filling her hands. “Get warm.”

There was a shift of Cassandra’s legs behind her, some renewed strength. She raised her knees up behind Elena, slotting her more firmly down into Cassandra’s lap.

Elena shivered, hot and cold, uneasy. “Cassandra—”

“Easy, sister,” the brunette’s mouth was at her ear, but her words were floaty, strange—a tone she knew more from Daniela than sharp-edged Cassandra. “I just want to be close to you. You’re so hot.”

The blood on her palms was hot as she reached out, clapping them on either side of Cassandra’s cheeks and pulling her head back to look into her eyes. They were dark, the bright gold faded to a rusty ochre. “Are you okay?”

Abruptly, Cassandra turned her head into Elena’s hold.

She let out a strangled gasp as the brunette’s tongue lapped the crimson from her palm, tongue hot and firm, digging sharply into shredded skin.

She tried to pull her palm away, but Cassandra growled softly, stilling her motion. Instead, she swallowed tightly, eyes closing as she allowed the older girl to lap at her wounds, soft and throaty moans filling the hall—from both of them, Elena realized belatedly. It stung her palms, but the motion made her stomach burn. Absurdly, she remembered the Lady’s words: pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.

When the majority of the blood was gone, Cassandra turned instead to the other hand and repeated the treatment.

“Good girl,” Cassandra panted, her pupils had swallowed all but a thin ring of ochre. “So sweet, innocent. I knew you would taste good.”

Elena jumped as the hands on her breasts squeezed—the fingers were ice cold, but somehow sending hot spikes through her. She tilted her head away as Cassandra leaned into her neck, a low, whining sound eking out of her. “Cassandra…”

Cassandra froze against her, muscles locking. A deep, layered snarl rumbled into the flesh of her neck.

A spike of fear went through Elena. 

She froze in turn, trying to lean back out of Cassandra’s hold, but the arms released her chest and slipped around her back. They pulled, pressing her hard against the taller girl, legs locked and chests heaving against each other.

“Cassandra,” she whispered again, trying to move but finding resistance; the strength returned with the heat of her blood and her body, allowing the brunette to hold Elena sharply against her, huffing deeply into her neck. “Wait, please—fuck!”

The pain was sharp, immediate and burning. 

Elena’s eyes widened, a sharp gasp leaving her.

The stab of fangs into her neck made it throb and crackle like a live wire, her vision turning to static and her ears ringing loudly. She wasn’t prepared for the feeling as they dug deeper, then the draining began, Cassandra moaning into her neck like she was a fine vintage.

“Ah!” Elena reached out, seizing Cassandra’s hair and trying to pull her back. “Stop!”

There was no movement. With the rush of blood came power, warmth, all of it pooling in Cassandra and empowering her flies to work overtime, buzzing back to life in loud, layered snarling sounds that resounded loud in Elena’s chest. 

She whined more, thumping her arms against Cassandra, trying to push and shove. But there was no response, just a tight hold and deep drinking, oblivious to the world beyond. It went on for too long, burning and pulling at her in a way that hurt so bad it was good, before it began to feel wretched and awful, her limbs tired and weak like she’d drunk the tea.

“P-Please,” Elena whimpered, heart thudding too slow, her own cold hand pressed to Cassandra’s cheek.

The cold touch or the plead seemed to startle Cassandra back to herself, all at once.

“Fuck,” Cassandra gasped, leaning back with blood on her chin. Her hands jerked free of Elena’s shirt, one coming to press to her mouth, the other holding Elena’s back so she didn’t keel over. “Fuck! I didn’t mean to—this is bad.”

Elena moaned, the blood running down her neck and into the collar of her pajamas, hot and thick like her thoughts. It made her woozy, head tipping forward bonelessly to slump against Cassandra’s chest. “Hurts,” she whined. 

“I know,” Cassandra cursed again, pulling Elena’s head back to get a look at the brutal bite—it was leaking thick and tantalizing blood, not enough to put her life in danger, but far too much for someone so small who she definitely wasn’t supposed to bite. “Shit. You smelled so good, so needy, I just—fuck, Mother’s going to kill me.”

Elena whimpered softly as Cassandra, empowered by the heat from her blood and body, managed to struggle to her feet. Her head lolled back uselessly, vision bleary in the dark. 

“Hold on,” Cassandra said, face pinched with panic and guilt. “Just…hold on.”

Elena’s head lolled back and forth, consciousness with it.

Each time she opened her eyes, it was to Cassandra—eyes focused, no sign of cracking on her face, but a wretched expression as she was dragged through dark halls and past iron cells. She was speaking to her, but Elena couldn’t hear much of it.

She caught flashes here and there: a slumped figure in a cell watching her, a dark haired creature shambling past, a turn into a hall with flickering torch sconces, sharp jostling as they climbed multiple stairs.

Somewhere in between, Bela appeared in her field of view, her eyes wide and face sharp. “What did you do?”

Elena blinked unsteadily up at her, dizzy. It was like all color had drained from the room, leaving it looking like one of those black and white movies, the soft edge of static to all the words. She made a small, whining sound, unable to work her tongue in anything resembling words.

“Bit her, obviously,” Cassandra answered, tightly. “Now help me.”

An expression of pure, bone-shaking dread came over Bela’s face. “Mother is going to be…upset.”

“She already is, what’s one more fuck up?” Cassandra spat, holding Elena closer as she moved up the stairs. “Get the first aid kit and something sweet. Meet me in my room. Do not breathe a word of it to Mother until we’ve had time to clean her up!”

Elena had never been in Cassandra’s room before.

It was dark, lit by soft lamps and a roaring fire, black out blinds pulled across. She squinted against the spots dancing in her eyes, taking in the ordered mess—crow skulls, bones strung like charms, bottles with unidentifiable organs in them, blood-stained blade on a vanity. It was dark and creepy and so very Cassandra that she would laugh, if she could—it came out as a sob, instead.

“It’s okay,” Cassandra soothed, hand curled around Elena’s, her eyes worried. “You’re fine—big sister’s patching you up.”

Sure enough, a flash of blonde caught her attention in the blur of her peripheral vision. Bela was stooped over her neck, hair pulled away from her face and gloves on. She had a folded cloth pressed tight to Elena’s neck to stem the flow, the pressure reigniting the fire in her shoulder and making her jolt.

So caught up was she in the sharp throbbing, she took far too long to realize she was naked. Her shirt was gone, the blood soaked pants with them, and she was reclined against dark silken sheets.

She whined, making as if to hide herself, but was forced to abandon the motion when her head span.

“Don’t move,” Cassandra said, pressing her back down by her shoulders, guilt on her face. “I shouldn’t have bit you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Bela snapped, voice low and dark. “You were supposed to find her, not brutalize her.”

Elena felt guilt settle in her at the way Cassandra’s expression shifted, becoming a mix of dread and fear—such a strange expression to see Cassandra make. Still, she tried to soothe her before she could think better of it. She squeezed the hand wrapped around her own, eyeing Bela with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “S’my fault,” she slurred, tongue thick and heavy. “Got her c-cold.”

Bela sighed, lifting the cloth away from her neck. Instead, she opened a small jar, beginning to smear a thick medicinal paste over the wound—it was strong smelling, deep green in color, and made her skin tingle with an icy-hot feeling. 

“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” Bela said, echoing Cassandra’s earlier words. 

Elena’s body throbbed like a wound, her heart most of all. The loss of her escape was one willingly given, she had accepted that it would mean sacrificing herself to whatever fate awaited her. It did not mean she couldn’t mourn for it, and certainly not that she wasn’t terrified by what came next.

Somewhere in the distance there was a bellow, the sharp crack of furniture breaking.

“We will clean her up,” Bela sighed, serious. “Then, we need to figure out how to explain this to Mother. Quickly.”

Her head swam, more time spent unconscious than awake.

When next she woke, Elena found herself cleaned and bandaged, as much as she could be by wet cloths and firm hands.

The daughters couldn’t find her any clothes, and that seemed to be the argument of the hour—anything they could give her was too big, would rub her wounds, would be a clear sign that they’d holed her up in Cassandra’s room instead of bringing her straight back to Mother. But they couldn’t hide it, either. So, the argument spun around and around.

The sound of it made her woozy again, and she collapsed backwards. Then, became keenly aware of the warm body pressed into the pillows behind her, hair slowly being wound between gentle fingers. 

“You’re awake, sister,” Daniela announced, peering down at her with dark eyes, still twisting an elaborate braid in Elena’s hair. “You’ve been very naughty.” 

Elena gave a low, throaty gasp; keenly aware of her own nakedness against Daniela’s clothing. “D-Dani—”

It turned into a low whine as the redhead tugged sharply at the section of her hair and made her head spin. “Mother and I are very angry with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, terror seizing her throat. “I—”

Rolling her eyes, the redhead reached out, shoving an unwrapped chocolate bar in front of her nose. “Eat it.”

She blinked, off kilter. “Huh?”

“Do as she says, it will help with the dizziness,” Bela commanded, breaking out of her argument with Cassandra to stare them both down. “If you keel over the minute we present you to Mother, we’re all doomed.”

“You saved Cassie,” Daniela said, reaching down to hold the chocolate bar to her mouth, batting her shaky hands away when she made a move to try to grab it herself. “I’m mad at you for running away, but you need it. I’m a good sister.”

Confused and disoriented, as she often was with Daniela, she subjected herself to the feeding.

The chocolate was sweet and warming on her tongue, the sugar helping restore some stability to her thoughts and her vision. Enough to hone in on the continuing argument between Bela and Cassandra, as they debated on who would inform the Lady and how they were going to present the fact that she had been bitten, and more importantly, why.

“She could have died,” Bela said, gesturing to Elena, who sank back into Daniela’s arms like a chastened child. “And so could you!”

“We’re both fine,” Cassandra retorted. “We’ll tell her the snow collapsed some of the wall, I didn’t see it in the dark until it was too late. The little one saved me and kept me warm, but I lost control and bit her. I can take the punishment.”

Elena swallowed a bite of chocolate guiltily. “It wasn’t your fault—”

“It was. I should never have bit you without consent,” Cassandra rounded on her, eyes blazing with anger; not at Elena, but at herself. “You were always going to try and run away, we all knew it, we’re not stupid. We just got too comfortable. We’re all responsible for you getting hurt. And that hole should have been sealed up last winter.”

Daniela, behind her, flinched at that. 

Bela had the good sense to look guilty—castle repairs usually fell on her, with the staff under her instruction, so the failure to seal the hole very likely did reflect poorly on her.

Elena paused, then said slowly, carefully. “What if I did consent?”

The trio of girls froze, even Daniela, who stopped even breathing behind her.

“I mean,” Elena continued. “I don’t want you to get punished because of me. I—I did that to you. So, blame it on me. I asked you to bite me when I saw how weak you were getting, to save you, so you did.”

Cassandra’s voice came out rough. “It might make things worse for you.”

“What’s she going to do?” Elena asked, voice thready with nerves. “Kill me?”

Cassandra’s eyes closed, her shoulders softening slightly. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, baby sister?”

At her side, Bela’s eyes darted nervously between the two, the reluctant acceptance on Cassandra’s and the guilty terror on Elena’s. Then, she sucked in a deep, slow breath. “Okay,” Bela said, slowly. “If you’re sure?”

“I’ll probably regret it,” Elena was cognizant enough to say. “But, yes, I am.”

Bela sucked in a slow, fortifying breath. “Okay. I’ll…go get her.”

Chapter Text

Cassandra’s bedroom door was thrown open hard enough to crack, splintering off its hinges.

A portrait outside clattered loudly to the floor, frame shattering.

The Lady paid both of these things no mind, her eyes burning with fire as she slowly rose to her full height through the door. Her hair was loose and wild, she was dressed only in a robe. She looked like a mess.

“You!” 

Elena cringed hard as the piercing gaze settled on her, shrinking back into the blanket that covered her. It had been given mostly to hide her bandages and bruises, but also offered her a modicum of modesty where she was still naked beneath. 

“You brazen, foolish, selfish little child! Did you think I would not find you?” She was snarling, two-toned and dangerous. Her face twisted in true, pervasive rage. “You are my daughter! Do you think I would let you escape?”

“Well?” The Lady pressed when she received no answer, advancing. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

Elena whined low in her throat. Some of the dizziness returned, heart pumping hard with far too little blood, and she curled back up into the bed, shivering; cold and scared. She cringed as the Lady reached for her. “I-I’m sorry!”

The blanket was ripped away in an instant. She tried to reach for it, to keep covering her naked and battered body, but the Lady simply tore it from her with a furious sound—it was torn apart by sharp claws, feathers exploding through the room. Then the Lady’s eyes cast across her curled up, miserable form. They cataloged the fresh bandages all over her legs and feet, her hands, then snapped to the mess of gauze and sticky bandages at her neck. 

A long, seething moment of silence passed.

The Lady’s anger visibly spiked, rippling through her. The malice of it filled the room to capacity, almost choking them all with the heaviness.

Then, without a word, she spun around and grabbed one of the arm chairs by Cassandra’s bed and heaved. It shattered against her vanity, sending sharp glass and wood everywhere, a coil of bones clattering to the ground and a heart bursting from a formaldehyde-filled jar. 

At the side of the bed, Cassandra’s eyes squeezed closed and her mouth flattened. But she said nothing in defense of her property, just stood limb-locked at the sight of her mother’s rage.

“What happened.”

It was not a question, it was a demand.

Bela and Daniela buzzed anxiously, both pressed into the corners of the room, out of sight of the Lady and her rage. The thick of it was centered entirely on Elena and Cassandra. 

Cassandra spoke, voice tight, reluctant. “I bit her, Mother.”

She was off her feet in an instant, Alcina’s hand around her throat and lifted high in the air. “You would dare—”

Elena spoke, despite the throbbing in her head and primal fear—she had never been overly brave for herself, but the idea of Cassandra being punished for something Elena had caused rubbed her the wrong way. “It’s not her fault!” she pleaded. “I asked her to do it!”

The Lady peered harshly down at her as Cassandra hung in her hold, hands wrapped around her wrist and gasping. “Explain.”

“We were in the cellar!” Elena said, flinching at the responding growl. The carefully coached lie flew from her mouth. “I tried to run, but Cassandra chased me. There was this section of wall, we didn’t see it in the dark, it was so cold, and she started to freeze! I-I tried to move her and keep her warm, but it wasn’t enough. Then, my hands, the blood seemed to help her so I asked her to bite me, I—”

Cassandra hit the ground hard, knees clattering on the rug and shards of wood. She gasped for breath, but stayed there on her hands and knees, craning her head up to meet the Lady’s hot gaze.

“Is that true?”

Daniela and Bela remained still, frozen in their corners—Elena, shivering on the bed, caught the fear in their gazes. The bated breath, as they waited to see whether the ploy would work.

“Yes, Mother,” Cassandra said, panting, trying to put as much truth as she could to the half-lie. “The little one saved me.”

The Lady took in a harsh breath, disregarding the child folded at her feet to return her seething glare back to Elena. The sheer rage in it stole her breath, and she whimpered, sliding back into the pillows as much as her aching body would let her. A move that was ultimately useless, as the Lady’s long arm reached out, seizing her aching ankle and yanked.

“Your reckless actions tonight have ruined any trust you may have hoped to gain,” the Lady said, voice trembling with fury. “Not only have you hurt yourself, but your actions caused harm to your sister. The price will be paid. I will afford you no privilege.”

She swallowed back the sobs, but couldn’t stop the quiet tears from streaming down her cheeks. She glanced at the brunette, who was slowly raising herself up from the floor, Daniela and Bela rushing to help her to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, more to Cassandra than to herself.

The Lady peered down at her, hand locked around Elena’s swollen, sprained ankle. “You will be.”

Elena found herself carried through the castle, naked and defeated.

There was no gentle hold this time, no princess carry to shepherd her up to the Lady’s bedchambers. Instead, she was thrown over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, blood rushing to her head and making her feel woozy. She didn’t struggle. Just allowed herself to be carried, limp and trembling.

The Lady had said nothing more to her as she snatched her from Cassandra’s bed, leaving the other daughters to themselves. The silence between them now was glacial, heavy—the promise of punishment, true punishment, heavy in the air.

A cavalcade of maids were coming down the hallway, mops and buckets in hand as the Lady came upon the landing. They scattered to the walls in an instant, heads down and eyes directed respectfully away. But even so, the weight of their unseeing eyes pierced her all the same, and Elena squeezed her eyes shut.

The Lady didn’t even glance at them.

Elena felt regret—not for turning back for Cassandra, but for getting caught in the first place. She had been so close. If she had been a minute or two quicker, she would have already been halfway to the village. But there was no escape, now. She had committed to her fate.

She tried her best to let her aching body relax, to steal a moment of air now and hope that whatever laid in wait for her at the other side of the Lady’s chamber doors wasn’t infinitely worse.

“You are disgusting.”

Elena recoiled at the half-bitten words as if shot, wilting as the Lady carried her immediately to the bathroom and set her on the edge of the vanity.

“I am loath to put Bela’s hard work to waste,” she said, running her eyes critically over the assortment of bandages and gauze, confident that the care could only have come from the eldest. “But those girls of mine are wretched when it comes to matters of care, despite their best efforts. You reek like a cellar rat.”

She chewed on her lip, hard, but said nothing in response.

“A bath is in order.”

She kept her head ducked, croaked a soft and submissive, “Yes, Mother.”

“No.”

Elena froze, looking up—into eyes that sparked a challenge. “W-What?”

“I have changed my mind with your foolish actions tonight,” Alcina replied, reaching over to twist the knob on the bath. The sudden burst of water loud enough in the room to make Elena jump. “You will no longer call me Mother.”

The implication made her head spin.

She shrank down, relief and dread filling her. “Then what am I to call you?”

“For such an unruly, selfish child,” the Lady said, firm, disappointed, angry, “there is only one title that suits.”

Her brain blanked, scrambling for an answer under expectant eyes and coming up empty. “I—I don’t…”

“You will call me Mommy.”

Whatever Elena had thought of, that was not it. In fact, the idea of calling her that sunk a barb of mortification deep inside her chest, so much she recoiled from the thought of it, hot and cold all over, embarrassed to the very tips of her toes. To the point that her body managed to find the blood to force to her cheeks, a flush burning down to her chest.

The Lady caught her reaction, cataloged it with an impassive face. “I expect you to use it, little girl.”

If she had thought calling her Mother was bad, then this was—

“Yes,” Elena opened and closed her mouth, hesitating, eyeing the slight mocking tinge in the Lady’s eyes. “Mommy.”

Her response was barely a hum.

The Lady did not seem outwardly pleased, did not stop to drop an affectionate hand or praise her for using it. It was strange, so utterly different to what Elena had grown used to from her. It made her feel smaller, somehow. Like a chastened child who had disappointed her mother. Perhaps that was entirely the point.

Regardless, the Lady poured a fragrant oil into the steaming bath water, turning her back to Elena. There were no bubbles this time, just slightly murky bathwater filled with the scent of roses—familiar to her nose, one she had caught time and again on the Lady’s skin. Her own preferred bath solution, then, not the sweet bubbles she had previously chosen for Elena. Another message.

Her stomach turned, despite everything.

Satisfied in the progress of the bath, the Lady turned back to her and began to strip the fresh bandages from Elena with a firm hand.

There was no care spared for her; just enough to not bring deliberate harm, but also nothing special taken to make sure their removal would be painless. She yelped as one sticky gauze was ripped from her split knee, but forced herself silent when a harsh glare met her.

The throbbing of each revealed wound made her eyes water, but she bit her tongue.

The last bandage to come off was the one on her shoulder, the large pad of adhesive, gauze and herbs sticking to her skin painfully when the Lady pulled. Enough that when she took it off, it tore some of the clotting away, fresh blood beginning to ooze out once again. 

“You look as if mauled,” the Lady said, leaning closer to inspect that wound in detail, prodding the edges and peering carefully at the thick blood. “Cassandra truly knows no moderation when it comes to her food. You were a fool to allow her to bite you.”

Elena tilted her head away, blinking pained tears. “I have been rather foolish tonight.”

“And each other since I acquired you,” the Lady agreed. “It can only be so endearing before it begins to grate on one’s nerves. Painfully.”

She swallowed a yelp as she was unexpectedly picked up by her armpits, the movement making her neck throb. The Lady’s hands were large, almost enough to wrap halfway around her chest and back with her grip. Hefting her easily until she was dropped, literally, into the bath.

Elena gasped as she hit the water. It filled her lungs and nose in an instant, and she spluttered and gasped within it, nose and lungs burning. She was disoriented, eyes stinging as she tried to open them. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to swim, but the movements were jerky, her limbs uncooperative in shock or pain. She thrashed helplessly. She didn’t know which way was up. 

It felt nothing like her calm place, like gentle water plunging in her ears. This was violent, consuming her, dark tentacles slipping through turbulent seas, in her lungs, in her ears, her eyes, she couldn’t see—

She was drowning—

And then a hand plunged in and dragged her upwards.

She breached the surface, coughing and spluttering, rose-tinged water spewing from her lungs between sobs.

“You do not know how to swim?”

The Lady sat perched on the edge of the tub, one leg crossed over the other, chin planted on her palm as she leaned forward. The other hand was grasping Elena’s elbow, keeping her afloat. She sounded surprised, but it was buried beneath a layer of careful disinterest. 

Elena tried to say something, to shout or scream, but another spew of water came from her lungs. 

The bath had felt safe, the last time she was in it. Now it felt like an enemy, corrupted into a torture device. It felt like she could catch her death in it, here, with a woman who called her daughter in one breath and tried to drown her in the other.

The Lady just sat, patient and waiting, until she recovered herself enough to gasp out an answer.

“C-Can swim,” Elena gasped, unable to keep the hurt out of her rough voice. “Wasn’t expecting to be dropped.”

Alcina hummed, releasing her elbow once she was steady and standing. “Seems we’ve both been betrayed tonight, yes?”

Elena was too busy trying to swim towards one of the shelves within the bath so she could rest her battered body, she didn’t even notice the Lady divesting herself of her robe and nightgown. She passively noticed the way the water swelled higher, but didn’t truly pay any mind to another body joining her in the tub until she was grabbed around the middle by a large hand.

She gasped, but fell obediently still as she was bundled back into the Lady’s lap, her back to her belly. 

“I am going to clean you properly,” the Lady began, voice rumbling through Elena’s body, heavy with promise—and none of it good. “I will dress your wounds. Then, I will punish you. Do you understand?”

Elena swallowed heavily, lungs weighed down like there was still water in them.

“Yes, Mommy.”

After her hair and body were roughly washed, Elena was dragged out of the bath and wrapped in a large towel, rucked dry like a dog.

There was none of the usual care in any of it.

It shouldn’t intimidate her as much as it did, but she found herself cowed into a nervous silence, anxiety thrumming as her heart beat like a hummingbird. She wondered, not for the first time, whether the Lady’s assertion that she wouldn’t hurt her still held, but she found herself too scared to ask.

Instead, she suffered quietly as her injuries were cataloged and re-treated. The lesser wounds earned a hum and were left to air dry. The more severe ones pulled a frown over the Lady’s face: the cuts on her feet were bandaged, sprained ankle wrapped until it was stiff, the split knee covered in gauze and bandaged thoroughly.

The one at her neck still pulled an angry scowl from the Lady as she prodded at it. “It does not need stitches, but it will heal awfully. You will scar, I’m afraid.”

Elena nodded, then abandoned the motion when it pulled at the slices. “It was worth it.”

“Sweet in sentiment, but it does not earn you any favors. She would not have required it, if you had stayed where you were supposed to be.” The words were brutal, effective in cutting her to the core. “Cassandra will be punished regardless. Though it may have been necessary to preserve her, she still disobeyed me. Your sisters were never to lay their teeth on your first.”

She did not like the implication there, the phrase first. It held a thread of possessiveness, an underlying claim that the Lady should have had the first bite. She had certainly had the first humiliating taste of her blood, after all.

Elena could not fathom what it would feel like to be bitter by her. Cassandra’s one had left her burning, pleasurable at first until it was not, until it ached. But the Lady’s mouth was so much larger, teeth longer—surely there would be no drinking, only devouring. 

Whatever her thoughts were on it, the Lady did not elucidate.

Instead, she busied herself with caring for the bite mark. A different concoction to the one the girls had used was obtained from a drawer, this one in a heavy bottle with dropper; it smelled medicinal but with undertones of copper. It was a little thick, a gray-ish black in color.

Elena jumped when it hit her skin, it had the same icy-hot sensation as the herbs. She couldn’t see what it did, but the sensation was strange—like sinking, burrowing into her, burning through her veins for a long moment before it settled. “W-What was that?”

“Something developed long ago, though seldom required,” the Lady answered, annoyingly obtuse in her answers as always. “It contains my blood. That is all you need to know.”

Her eyes widened, and she reached up as if to touch her wound—only to have the hand batted away. 

“Do not touch it,” Alcina barked. “It needs time undisturbed to do its work. It will not heal in a day, but it will help you along.”

She set her hands carefully back in her lap. “Why not on the other ones…?”

“Too much can be addictive or can harm your system irreversibly. I would prefer to keep you as you are, so it will be used sparingly.” The eye that settled on her then was hot, assessing. “I do not expect you to require its aid in future. It would be monumentally stupid to put yourself in a position that it is required. Do you understand?”

Her head dropped. “Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

She swallowed her revulsion. “Yes, Mommy.”

The wound was subsequently wrapped back in gauze, then a large adhesive bandage was pressed down on the curve of her neck. Once it was done, she was removed from her position on the vanity, carried back into the main bedroom.

Elena half expected to be thrown onto the bed and diapered, had mentally begun to prepare herself for it. But instead, the Lady sat down at the foot of the bed, then pulled Elena over her lap on her belly, dragging the towel off of her until she was naked but for her bandages.

She whined, arms and legs reaching out to brace herself on the mattress. It hurt, but she clung to them. “W-What are you doing?”

“Quiet.”

With a cursory interest, she caressed at the back of Elena’s thighs, tracing her nail between the healing cuts she had caused the day before. Each one was enough to make Elena’s skin light up, quiet hisses dropping from her mouth. The pain was minor pinpricks, pale compared to what she had experienced in the cellar, but the fact that it was the Lady inflicting it made it feel brutal.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lip to stop a cry as each air drying cut was circled—the skin was hot and tender, not infected, but inflamed by the activity and sending jolts against her nerves.

The Lady did not linger long, though. Her hand skated slowly up the back of Elena’s thigh, until her thumb brushed under the swell of her ass. A touch that made Elena freeze. It did not stop, though, curving up until it came to cup her ass more fully.

She tried to sit up in protest, but an unyielding hand pressed sharply down between her shoulder blades, forcing her face into the mattress.

“Please,” she begged, softly.

The Lady was unrepentant. “Your punishment begins now.”

And then the hand lifted away, only to come down hard.

Elena yelped, jolting hard into the mattress and trying to scramble away from the Lady’s hold, her ass cheek burning. But there was no forgiveness to be found in her grip, she was not allowed to scramble away. Instead, she was rewarded with another sharp smack on the other cheek.

Another cry left her, bursting from her lungs like a howling dog. She clenched her seizing fingers in the blankets, pain exploding behind her eyes as she gasped.

The Lady was not moved by her shouts, laid out another sharp smack that burned through her. 

“Consider yourself lucky,” Alcina said conversationally, following it up by another smack. “In my day, this was done with a cane.”

Elena screeched, tears pouring down her face, heart throbbing in time with the pain burning from her ass. She was dizzy, light-headed from pain and blood loss and humiliation, a caustic mix in her chest that threatened to make her sick.

“F-Fuck, stop,” she pleaded. 

“If you can still swear at Mommy, you clearly have not had enough,” was the condemning answer.

Elena’s vision blurred with hot tears, pouring down her cheeks. A sob burst from her chest again as another blow landed, then another one chased behind it. Her hands were so large, strong, each blow may as well have been like a paddle.

She squirmed, whining, sniveling like a child. “Please, please—”

“Do not misunderstand, I do not do this because I want to,” Alcina mused, laying down another slap. “But you forced my hand, and you must be taught the error of your ways. Do you understand?”

Elena sobbed into the blankets. “Yes!”

Another crack, hard enough to bruise.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mommy!” Elena cried.

If she thought using the title would spare her more punishment, it did not. Instead, the authoritative hand came down again, adding a shivering, shaking edge to her sobbing. 

“This is for removing your nappy without Mommy’s permission.”

A smack, biting.

“This is for running away and putting yourself in danger.”

Two, hard enough to make her scream, sparking against her nerves.

“This is for putting your sister in harm’s way.”

Another slap delivered with brutal efficiency, making stars burst behind Elena’s eyes.

“This is for getting yourself hurt.”

Elena buried her teeth into the blanket now to swallow the cries, biting hard enough to make her jaw ache.

“This is for your foul mouth.”

The blanket fell quickly from her mouth as she jumped, squirmed, but was unable to get away.

“And this one? This is because Mommy thinks you need the reminder.”

A last, final slap came down hard against her flesh, and Elena’s sobbing was loud and unrestrained now.

Her entire ass throbbed like bruised flesh, pain burning up and down her body, her legs, with each heaving breath. It burned in time with the rest of her wounds, woozy with blood loss and stress and adrenaline of the last few days, a heady mix. 

She was babbling with the force of her crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Alcina’s hand rested on her ass, rubbing at the raw skin with gentle hands, massaging to try and get the blood flowing. She ignored the panting whimpers and sobs it produced. Already there were large patches of deep red, some bruising in the shape of fingertips beginning around the edges. Her lip quirked softly, but she did not allow Elena to sit up, keeping her pressed face-down over her thighs.

“You’re saying very pretty words for Mommy, but do you believe them?”

“Yes,” Elena cried, regret carving deeply into her, written in the marks on her body and deeper still on the marks they left somewhere inside her. “I’m sorry, Mommy! Please believe me, I—”

“Hush.”

Elena was gently coaxed upwards, until her thighs were settled wide on either side of the Lady’s hips and her arms were wrapped around her shoulders. One arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight to the Lady. It made her ass burn, her injured legs throb, but she leaned into the Lady’s skin all the same in search of comfort, sobbing into her robe.

“Remember that Mommy does this out of love. Do you remember what she said her role was?”

Elena shook her head, mute. 

A hand patted the underside of her raw ass cheek, making her yelp and sob.

“It is her job to instill fear of consequence in you all,” the Lady recounted, massaging at the sting with a gentle hand, soothing as much as reminding. “It does not bring me joy to do this, but you will learn your lesson. I cannot have anything like this happen again.”

Elena sniveled, pressing into her hard, desperate for the reassurance of soft touches over bruising ones. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Sometimes, Mommy must adapt her methods to ensure the lesson sticks,” Alcina answered, allowing her closeness. “You were in the cellar, you saw the means of punishment for the livestock. Do you truly think I meant to hurt you with a mere spanking?”

Her stomach turned, rolling horribly at the word livestock.

That was all the punished staff were to her, then—creatures sent to the cellar, exsanguinated and tortured for the sake of their diet, their pleasure, or possibly both. 

Elena knew she did not number among them, all of the actions of the last few days had proved that, none more so than now. But it did not stop the hot tears trickling down her cheeks, into the Lady’s chest as she burrowed in, seeking comfort. 

“No,” she whispered.

The Lady patted her ass once more, a sharp bite of pressure that made Elena stifle a painful whine. Then, she was scooped up and deposited back onto the bed as the Lady rose. “Stay,” she commanded. “I will bring you something to help with the pain.”

She collapsed onto her stomach, naked and stinging. Tears still rolling down her cheeks in unrestrained wailing, breaths struggling to escape her half-closed throat. She felt wrecked, raw, emotionally and physically. The weight of it had her shuddering into the blankets, digging her forehead in to press out the world, her fingers curling.

The Lady returned swiftly, arms laden with a few items that she dumped on the bedside, some familiar, some not. Elena didn’t bother to look, caught up in her own conflicting feelings, too sore to feel shy about her exposure. 

She did jump though as the Lady’s large hands found her again. 

“Stay still,” was the command, understanding but firm. “This will help.”

Her ass throbbed like a bruise as the Lady rubbed a cream into aching flesh, heedless of her cries.

It was made worse when she was turned on her back, the fabric of the bedspread soft but impossibly rough against tender skin. It hurt so much, she actually breathed a sigh of relief when her legs were yanked up and she was elevated, but the slide of fresh padding under her swiftly aggravated it when she was set back down. She moaned in protest when the Lady affixed the tabs, tighter than usual. 

The Lady stepped away, and Elena rolled over on her side, chest heaving, trying to rein in her cries. It only half worked, but her thoughts were spiraling. To ground herself, she brought her forearm up and sunk her teeth into it, one pain lessening another.

She expected clothes to be retrieved, but instead the Lady returned with a familiar pair of wine-colored leather cuffs. 

“Arms out.”

She froze, staring at them. “B-But—”

“Do not make me ask again.”

Slowly, she held out her arms. They were swiftly cuffed, then looped together at the wrist—at her front, thankfully, because she didn’t think her aching neck would do well with them being behind her. She stared hard at them, then up at the Lady.

“You have not earned your freedom,” Alcina said. “The price of your little adventure is not one paid with a minor spanking, little mouse. You must pay for your actions. Until I can trust you, when Mommy cannot watch you, you will be bound like the naughty child you are.”

She could say nothing to that, but a low whine eked out of her throat, dread spiraling in her.

The Lady just bore it all with a neutral expression, waiting until Elena looked away, head tilted to show her throat. 

She bit her lip, shivering from the naked chill over her skin. “Mommy…?”

Alcina hummed, eyes on her, waiting.

Elena’s eyes flickered to the wardrobe that held her clothes, pointedly, coaxing. “Are you not…?”

“You have not earned the right,” the Lady answered, a mocking little smile curling at the corner of her mouth. “Besides, I hope this teaches you a lesson. I doubt you will run quite so far if all the maids were to see you so exposed, hm?”

She flushed deeply, unable to hide it with her wrists bound. On the contrary, the position forced her arms together, her chest pushed out unnaturally, highlighting the crimson that was crawling down it.

The Lady gave a slightly mocking smile, tilting her chin back so Elena could meet her eyes; they were slightly narrowed, deliberately drinking the wretched state of her in. “Though, I do think the sight of you is quite fetching—red does suit you, little one.”

Elena’s whole body pulsed with the force of her nerves, and she tried desperately to bring her bound wrists up to cover her chest. She didn’t like the way the stare made her feel. Her emotions were thick and sticky, a mess all around.

“Now, one more thing,” Alcina picked her up, setting her at the top of the bed and into the pillows. “I cannot have you wandering, you understand. I had thought to get you a cage, but I do not intend to keep you as a pet—though, do keep that in mind if you decide to pull any little tricks in future, yes?”

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut, adrenaline spiking.

She had seen the iron-rusted cages in the dark of the cellar, horrible implements of torture, built in stockades and feeding dishes. Elena did not want to think of what that would mean for her to be a pet, but she decided the role of a daughter was much more appealing. 

The Lady reached out, retrieving a long leather line connected to a clasp behind the headboard. “Much better,” the Lady mused, as she clasped the leather to the chain that bound her wrists together. The length was long enough to allow her to step from the bed, but not much further. “Until you earn your freedom, you are not to go beyond this distance unless I or my daughters are with you. Do you understand?”

She ducked her head. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good.” Alcina stepped away, leaving her slumped helplessly into the duvet, naked but for the diaper. “Now, if you will excuse me, Mother needs to arrange tea for her naughty child.”

Elena bit her lip, whining.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Alcina smiled, mocking. “I’ll ask for milk this time.”

The serving maid paused at the sight of her.

Elena stared back, tears dripping down her cheeks and her bound arms clutched protectively over her naked chest. She tried to contort in a way that hid her body, but it was no use, she was bound on top of the blankets and helpless as a newborn beneath their wide eyes.

“Don’t mind the baby,” Alcina purred, voice honeyed and mocking. She sat beside her on the bed, still in her robe but with her hair and makeup done now, perfectly done up in contrast to Elena’s mortifying nakedness. “Bring it here.”

Elena squeezed her eyes shut to close out Gabriela’s stare.

It was worse than it had been at dinner. They had seen each other naked in the peripherals of the communal baths, but never like this—bound and spanked red, bruised and battered, a child’s diaper around her hips. She must have made a horrible sight. It made her feel wretched, lower than low, something non-human.

Gabriela’s hands trembled, tray clattering, but she obediently set the tray on the side table. “As you command, My Lady.”

Alcina sucked in a deep drag of tobacco from the stick in her hand, then blew it out, slowly coiling up to the ceiling. Then she leaned over to stub it out. “The tea was prepared as instructed?”

“Of course, My Lady,” Gabriela answered, head bowed respectfully. 

“Excellent. Leave.”

The maid needed no further encouragement, swiftly exiting—after tossing Elena one more look, pity and something else in her gaze. It was a gaze that made her skin crawl, flush burning deeper.

The Lady ignored her spiraling and crying, instead reaching over to uncover the tray that had been brought in and then humming with something like amusement. “This,” she said, turning to Elena with something in her hand, “is no less than what you deserve.”

Elena stared, eyes wide, appalled.

There was a bottle in her hand. Like a baby’s one, but larger in size, filled with a milky amber-colored liquid.

“But—”

“Are you going to argue with me?” Alcina asked, eyebrow raised, waiting.

“No,” Elena whispered, chastened.

“Milk, as you requested,” Alcina smiled at her, but there was nothing nice in it. “I expect you to drink all of it.”

She swallowed hard, then reached out with her bound wrists to begin to take it. 

It was jerked out of her reach, held high above her head.

“Now, now,” Alcina purred, smirking. “It would be irresponsible of me to allow my baby to drink it herself, wouldn’t it?”

She stared up at the Lady, eyes wide. 

What came next was not entirely surprising, but it did not mean it was not embarrassing. 

Lady Dimitrescu reclined upright into the pillows, then dragged Elena into her lap, ignoring her squeak as the position made the aching in her ass flare back to life. She was adjusted until she was basically mouthing at the top of the Lady’s cleavage, eye-level and exposed in the low-cut dress. Then her head was tilted to rest, ear pressed to the Lady’s slowly thudding heart.

“Drink well, little one,” the Lady said, lip curling as she brought the nipple of the bottle to Elena’s mouth. “Or Mommy will make sure you do.”

Elena slowly, reluctantly allowed it to slip between her lips and teeth. It felt weird, too squishy, and she tried to reach up to press her hands to the bottom of the bottle, only to have them smacked away by the Lady’s own. She whined softly, eyes closing to try and shut out the indignity.

When she did not immediately begin to suck at the bottle, the Lady squeezed slightly, forcing a spurt of the warm, milky tea into her mouth. It hit the back of her throat unexpectedly, almost making her gag before she struggled to swallow it. It tasted overwhelmingly of milk, sweetened sugar and the bitter, medicinal undertones of the dreaded tea.

The volume of milk must have watered it down though, as the familiar weakness did not begin to take her over immediately. 

“Drink,” the Lady insisted, squeezing again.

A small spurt of it leaked past her lips, a dribble from her chin trailing into the curve of the Lady’s chest. 

Elena, forcing back tears in her eyes, reluctantly began to try and drink it. It felt weird, wholly unlike drinking through a straw. It required her to suckle, mouth and tongue working on it to coax the tea out. It came awkwardly at first, making her whine in her throat when she couldn’t get a proper suction.

The Lady tilted the bottle further, laughing at her.

It helped, though, as the following sucks were much more successful, tea bursting into her mouth. She had to struggle to swallow it down, another small trail dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Mmgh,” she tried, trying to lean back to get some air, but the Lady stubbornly kept it between her teeth, forcing her to breathe through her nose.

She drank deeply, the feeling of the tea slow and creeping—indirect through the volume of milk, a slow and gentle submission to its clutches that crept over her like a warm blanket. She relaxed into it, until the bottle was all she could see, all she could taste. Eventually her head began to loll back into the bracing hand on the back of it. 

The Lady just held her there, no longer forcing her to drink but passively watching her as she did it herself. A pleased little smile was on her face, unnoticed to Elena in the depths of her drinking.

Eventually, the bottle ran empty and Elena was limp against her, tired and so warm. 

“You made a mess, little one,” the Lady said, setting the bottle down on the side table. She grabbed Elena’s head, pressed her face into the middle of her large chest. “Clean it up.”

Floaty and barely awake from the pervasive weakness developing in her muscles, Elena did as she was asked. Her tongue darted out, soft and sluggish, nosing into warm cleavage and trailing after a few dribbles of tea. It was barely there, half dried, but the Lady didn’t seem to care about that. It was all about the power of it.

“Good girl,” Alcina said at last, her voice lilting oddly, breath strange. “That’s quite enough.”

Elena whined as she was picked up, blankets and sheets moved back and then slowly slotted beneath them. The trail of leather from her cuffs was awkward, her arms bound at her chest as she was rested on her back, the diaper and blankets digging into her sore ass. But she didn’t have the energy left to fight, barely had the energy left to string a coherent thought.

A kiss was pressed to her forehead.

“Sleep well, little one.”

Chapter Text

“Please,” Elena whined.

Lady Dimitrescu turned the page in her reports, ignoring her.

“Mommy,” she tried, despite how awful it made her feel. “Please.”

The silence was stubborn, heavy, as the Lady continued skimming through profit and loss statements. She paid little attention to the girl swaddled like a baby on the bed, jerking sluggishly on the link that kept her bound wrists hooked to the headboard. As she had done for most of the morning.

Elena squirmed in the blankets, but they were wrapped far too tight and the bonds on her wrist did not help. “Please let me up,” she pleaded, hesitating briefly before she admitted, with a flush, “I…I need to pee.”

Alcina turned another page, pouring over asset depreciation schedules with little interest on her little girl’s whining. “Then go.”

She shivered, hot and cold and far too aware of the pressure in her bladder. “I will, just let me up for a second!”

“Do not raise your voice at me, child.” A heavy golden eye raised away from the paper, condemning. “And stop bothering Mother while she is working. I have offered you a solution, take it or do not. But do not expect me to entertain your childish whining.”

Elena ground her teeth together, wondering if her hands were big enough to wrap around the Lady’s neck and choke her, bound wrists be damned.  She refused to cede to the suggestion, they both knew she would never willingly use her diaper. To be tea-drunk and forced to use it was one thing, to choose to use it was another entirely.

She turned her head stubbornly away from the Lady in frustration, wincing when it pulled at the wound on her neck. She tried to shift in the tight blanket, wincing again when it lit up the bruises on her ass and the wounds on her legs. She felt almost hungover, yearning for a glass of water and a pain killer—though the thought of taking in more water made her cringe, squeezing her thighs together.

The Lady ignored her, pouring a glass of wine with a deliberately slow trickle and ignoring her soft fussing. 

All Elena could think about was the persistent pressure in her bladder, growing worse the longer she focused on it. She had been begging for far too long, more than an hour, but the Lady was content to string her along with half-promises to release her later, which quickly turned into outright refusal to deal with her as she got deeper into her work.

It was all a cruel punishment—a continuation of the previous night, which apparently had not satisfied the Lady in the slightest.

Elena sighed aggressively, hands curling in frustration. It made the leftover wounds on her palm throb, but it gave her something to focus on for a few blissful seconds.

“Stop pouting,” Alcina demanded in response, distracted. “Or would you care for a spanking again?”

She gave a silent huff. “No.”

“No who?”

“No, Mommy,” Elena snapped, unable to hide her annoyance. 

The eyes that found her in the mirror of the Lady’s vanity were harsh enough to make her duck her head, muttering apologies until the Lady slowly returned back to her reading. She sat in cowed, horrible silence. Her mouth would get her nothing but more punishment and they both knew it.

She did not regret saving Cassandra, but she hated that this was the price.

Squeezing her eyes shut hard enough to count the star bursts behind her eyes, she resolved to hold her bladder until the end of time. 

“Alright, darling,” Alcina said eventually, signing the financials with a flourishing signature and then setting the paperwork down. She rose from the vanity and sat down beside Elena, who was curled up on her side in a tight little ball in the bed. “Mommy is done with her work for now. You have her attention.”

Elena was wired, her body refusing to sag with relief for fear of bursting.

She had held it together for the better part of another hour, bladder screaming so hard that there was a painful pressure in her abdomen. A strange zen-like focus had come over her, which she fought to hold onto now. Her legs were crossed hard, wounds throbbing. She had wriggled her hands, still bound at the wrist, down to press into the bulk of her diaper to try and force the pressure back.

“Please,” she was practically sobbing with desperation, voice wobbly. “Please let me go to the bathroom, Mommy.”

The Lady reached down with firm hands, untucking her from her little ball and ignoring her panicked whining. She brought the shivering girl into her lap, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, we are going to be late to lunch because of all your distracting little whining. Mommy will take you to the bathroom after.”

Elena did sob then. “No, please, I need to go now.”

“Now, now,” the Lady’s voice was mocking, a syrupy coo that made Elena’s skin crawl. “Big girls can hold it.”

She shook her head. “I held it all morning,” she whined, trying to squeeze her legs back together, unsuccessful with the bulk of the Lady’s thighs between them. Her hands went down, pressing tight to the diaper, eyes slamming shut. “Please let me go, it hurts.”

“I said it is time for lunch,” the Lady replied, cupping her abdomen with a large hand and squeezing slightly until the girl was panting and whining to be let go. “Be a good girl and eat everything. Then Mommy will take her precious little one to the bathroom, yes?”

Her lip trembled. “Please—”

“Enough whining,” Alcina snapped, squeezing her again until the girl had to double over to contain herself. She smacked the bound hands away from the girl’s diaper, then pointedly tugged the band against her skin. “If you cannot wait like a big girl, then go like a baby.”

A desperate sound eked out of her throat, but Elena held it together with threadbare control. 

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

“My shy girl,” the Lady laughed, sharp and with a few too many teeth. “You’re clinging to Mommy so well.”

Elena had curled up in a little ball in the Lady’s arms, holding her dress in a vice grip. She was trying to stop the inevitable tide. Strange contorting was all that helped to avoid her bladder sending sharp jolts up her side, but it was still full to bursting.

The Lady let her whimper and twist in her hold, amused but unmoved by her whining.

Worse still, Elena was still bound at the wrist. Any passing staff would have seen her looking like a battered child, covered in bruises and bandages with a short, thin dress that barely covered any of it. It felt somehow more exposing than being carried like a stark naked sack of potatoes the night before.

“Please,” she croaked, face red and cheeks slightly swollen from tears. “It’ll just take a second.”

Alcina hushed her. “Poor punctuality reflects on how people view you, darling. You don’t want to upset your sisters, do you?”

She didn’t care about what they thought. 

Her thoughts must have been obvious by the sneer on her face, because the Lady flicked her slightly on the forehead with her spare hand. The motion made Elena jerk back, struggling to hold herself back. 

“Selfish little girl,” she sighed theatrically. “You do have to share Mommy’s attention sometimes, you know.”

Elena wanted to scream.

Cassandra was conspicuously absent at the dining table. 

Elena could barely put any thought into that though, too busy struggling against the slosh of her bladder and the lingering pain of her bruised ass as the Lady lowered her back into the torturous high chair. She whined when Daniela all too eagerly spread her knocked knees to affix her legs to the chair’s ankle cuffs.

“She’s so squirmy today, Mother,” Daniela said, head tilted to watch as Elena wriggled desperately in her restraints, the chair barely budging. She was smiling that half-mad smile, an odd twinkle in her eyes. “Did you punish her too much?”

Alcina smiled back, not an ounce of sympathy in it. “Not nearly enough for the trouble she caused.”

Elena felt her stomach sink at that, at the somewhat malicious thread of promise in it.

Bela swarmed into the room not long after, a little blood on her cheek but otherwise face unreadable as she primly set herself down in her usual chair. “Apologies for my tardiness, Mother,” she said. Her eyes flicked briefly to Elena. “Roxana and I were just coordinating the…changes you requested.”

Alcina waved her lateness away. “Very good. The breach?”

“Taken care of, Mother,” Bela replied. “I had the groundskeeper attend to it immediately. It will take some time for the concrete to set with the snow outside, but I’ve been assured that the outer work has been adequately waterproofed and reinforced to prevent similar cave-ins. With your permission, I would like to engage in further strengthening throughout the sunny season this year.”

“Granted,” Alcina agreed. “And the keys?”

The blonde spared Elena another glance. “Relocated.”

“Good girl,” Alcina praised. Then, as an afterthought, continued. “Thank you for taking care of your sisters last night, Bela.”

She inclined her head. “Of course, it’s my duty, Mother.”

“You are my pride and joy, such a responsible daughter I’ve raised,” Alcina said, returning the blonde’s winning smile with one of her own. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turned her gaze to Elena, who was still flushed and shifting in her seat. “Now, my rebellious youngest. Thank your big sister for her help.”

It took a moment for her to piece together that she was being addressed. She was fading in and out of the conversation, her focus directed inward and rather downward. However, Alcina’s heated glare prompted her to give a jerky nod.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, embarrassed by the desperate squeakiness of her own voice. The smile she offered Bela, despite being strained, was genuine—she knew the girl had gone out of her way to help them the night before, to help lie to their mother. “Thank you, big sister.”

If possible, Bela preened even more under Elena’s praise. However, she caught herself, cheeks flushing ever so slightly before she wrangled her expression into something more neutral. However, her smile back was no less genuine, hesitant but growing. 

Bela cleared her throat. “You are welcome, sister. Please try not to get yourself hurt in future.”

“Worry not. By the time Mother is done, I doubt she will be so eager to repeat her little escape trick,” Alcina said, eyeing Elena with a pointed look, then leaning back when she found the satisfyingly chastened expression on her face. “Still, you owe Daniela and I an apology. You caused us both such a startle, leaving like that.”

Elena scowled at that, significantly less willing to apologize for that.

To forestall any further threats from the Lady, she instead turned to her fellow redhead. Daniela was staring back at her, face planted on her palm and smiling all too widely back, like she was positively thrilled by the prospect of a hand-delivered apology from her only little sister. Being made to apologize made Elena feel a little sour, but also she felt oddly guilty for having caused the girl distress.

She huffed. “I’m sorry, big sister. I didn’t mean to…worry you, I promise.”

Daniela gave a happy little shiver at the title of big sister, as she always did. “Does this mean you’ll still play with me some time?”

The Lady sharpened, seeming to grow bigger in size as she stared her daughter down. “Daniela,” she said tightly, warningly. “Must we have another talk?”

Daniela giggled, but fell silent—however the very big, very theatrical wink said what she truly thought.

Elena stared wordlessly back, overwhelmed by a confusing tug of war of emotions—a characteristic of interacting with Daniela, she realized.

But she refused to try and unpack any of it, focusing instead on the feeling of expectant eyes on her and the very real possibility she was going to pee herself at the table if they did not hurry lunch along—a painful, mortifying prospect.

She turned back to the Lady, fumbling for what to say. She had apologized so many times last night, tear soaked and wretched with punishment, and somehow the Lady wanted another apology from her? 

“I am very sorry for running away,” she said, the lie like ash on her tongue. Then, into the expectant silence, continued. “I…promise not to do it again.”

Elena squirmed, locked for far too long under an assessing golden eye.

Then, Alcina smiled. “I will hold you to that.”

Bela rang the lunch bell not long after, and that was that.

Adela was mercifully absent as a handful of staff flowed in to serve lunch. Elena did not think she could handle seeing her again, with the way they had left things. Her stomach still twisted in cold, angry knots at the thought of her.

Lunch was a much less formal affair than dinner, only required to be attended to by a handful of servants carrying trays, no dining carts needed.

Clarissa led the serving as per usual, calm even at the sight of Elena, obviously injured and in much discomfort. Elena almost envied her steady nature, betrayed only by the slightly sympathetic tremor in the maid’s hand as she poured the Lady a glass of Sanguis Virginis in place of any real food.

The soft sound of wine pouring into the glass was loud as a waterfall to her, and Elena cringed into her restraints as the small glugs made her bladder seem to contract painfully. 

Bela was served by Gabriela, who absolutely refused to glance at Elena after her awkward, humiliating encounter earlier in the day. Elena was certain that the girl, mousey as she was, had probably told all the other maids about her plight by now—the rumor mill among the maids was a relentless thing, with far too little else to talk about. 

The tray was lifted at Bela’s instruction, revealing a few slices of lightly seared meat, covered in a strangely colored gravy. It was heavy with garlic and spices, but the copper undertones could not be denied.

Daniela was served something similar by Sorana, except hers was completely raw and Elena swore she saw the food twitching. The sight of it made the dark-haired server a little green around the edges, and as Daniela giggled she quickly backpedaled to the edges of the room to wait.

The last one served was herself. 

Elena was unsurprised to find a bowl of mushy food, as she had the day before. It appeared to be made up of a combination of berries, bananas and other sweet fruits, but they had been sliced and mashed into a strange consistency. The color was a horrible reddish-blue, spotted with seeds of berries and what may have been bloody-looking pomegranates. The strangely gory look made her stomach turn.

The Lady caught her grimace, giving her a prompting look. “If you want to ever be excused from this table, you will empty that bowl, little one.”

Where she expected Daniela to feed her, instead Elena was surprised to find the Lady accepting a spoon. It looked ridiculous and dainty in her large hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh in fear that it would shred the final bit of control she had over her bladder. Instead, she gave a watery stare.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense,” Alcina replied, reaching out for a scoop of her food. “You haven’t eaten since dinner last night. You will eat.”

She whined softly. “I can feed myself.”

“Can you?”

Elena jerked sharply against her restraints. “If you would let me out of these.”

“They’re for your own good, sweetheart,” Alcina answered, forcing a spoonful into her open mouth and ignoring the way it clattered against her teeth and made Elena gag. “You haven’t finished your punishment yet. Do you really want to test me?”

She swallowed, panting and coughing slightly. She wavered, forcing back the tide in her bladder that threatened to release with each cough. Then, under heavy eyes, mumbled a vague noise of agreement.

Not good enough, apparently. “Do you, darling?”

“No,” she answered, stronger, defeated.

The Lady’s lip gave a sly smirk for the briefest moment until it was swiftly buried back into an unreadable look. “No, who?”

Elena’s head tipped back to her, eyes wide.

Bela and Daniela paused in their eating, the latter with a finger hanging from her mouth, watching the proceedings with interest. 

She could feel the sharp prickle of attention from the silent staff, weighing heavily on her.

It felt like the entire world was hinging on her using that stupid, awful title.

“Use your words, little girl,” Alcina purred unrepentantly, voice like liquid honey; thick and cloying against her nerves.

She set her teeth. “No, I don’t want to test you, Mommy.”

Bela’s fork shrieked against her plate, loud. She coughed an apology, dabbing at the spotless corner of her mouth with a napkin as if she just had to do something with her hands in the light of such a revelation.

Daniela tittered in response, grinning widely around her food with blood-stained teeth. “Oh, that’s so cute!”

Elena was prepared to snarl something scathing back in return, but whatever she was going to say was lost when the Lady scooped another spoonful of fruit into her open mouth. The sudden movement caused her to cough again, some of it dribbling down her chin.

“She’s an awfully messy little girl,” Alcina mused with fake gravitas, grasping at the cloth bib Daniela had tied on her at some point to wipe the trail from her face. “Until she learns to take care of herself, Mommy must keep a good eye on her.”

Mortification burned through Elena, the pressure in her bladder combating the pressure in her head. Her teeth were aching from how hard she ground them to stop herself from saying something that would end up with another round of bruises on her backside, or worse. However her sanity felt like it was on shaky, tenuous ground, a threadbare thing after the last few days.

She swallowed a sob, but was unable to stop angry tears welling in her eyes. 

“Shh,” Alcina held out the spoon expectantly. “The sooner you eat, the sooner Mommy can take you away.”

The spoonful was held just far enough away from her mouth that, if she wanted to eat it and make good on the Lady’s promise to take her to the bathroom, she would have to lean herself forward to do so. 

Elena warred with herself, hesitating with the idea of doing so willingly, half expecting to get another spoonful shoved in as punishment.

But the Lady’s patience was apparently infinite when it came to her humiliation, she smiled that familiar sticky smile that told Elena she loved breaking through all of her boundaries—loved seeing her debase herself by her own choice, loved the power that came with each inch she was forced to give up of her distinct identity of Elena the Maid to become Elena Dimitrescu. 

She could only stomach so much humiliation, though. And the lesser of two evils was the spoon hovering tauntingly just out of reach.

Elena slowly leaned forward, taking the spoon into her mouth and swallowing the fruity mixture. It was sweet and tart, mushy on her tongue but unfortunately tasty, despite the fact that she didn’t feel hungry in the slightest in light of the circumstances. She refused to let the reluctant pleasure show on her face.

Whether or not she noticed it, the Lady smiled indulgently at her. “You see? It’s not so bad listening to Mommy now and again.”

Elena stayed stubbornly silent, but allowed the ensuing spoonfuls of food to be fed to her—some held at a distance and forced to be chased, others shoved into her mouth almost mid-swallow, never enough to let her get too comfortable or feel too in control of her own feeding. 

In the time it took for the Lady to feed her half the bowl between sips of wine, Bela had already finished her food and had her plate taken away. She was now sitting, fingers laced, watching her feeding in mild interest as she spoke, on and off, with the Lady about matters related to work.

Daniela was almost finished, dark sauce all over her face and hands as she chased a stray chunk of dark meat around the plate. The sight made her queasy, so Elena deliberately didn’t dwell too much on that.

What she did dwell on was the hard eyes of the staff, watching the interactions and cataloging the strange family like creatures at a zoo. They had witnessed Mălina’s unfortunate fate, fought hard to keep their faces neutral and calm, but Elena was not oblivious to their eyes. Whether it was pity or anger or something else entirely, she couldn’t be certain.

Eventually, her bowl ran empty and she breathed an audible sigh of relief as it was cleared away by the staff along with the other dishes.

Only the Lady’s wine glass remained, half full but stubbornly unfinished, just twirled in her hand.

Embroiled in conversation with Bela over something related to tannins and terroir, the Lady ignored her as she whimpered. It had been hours since she had last used the bathroom, and the overinflated balloon of her bladder began to pound, imminent and urgent. The wave of pressure was so strong, it made all of the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Mommy,” she whimpered, low and pleading. “Please.”

The Lady ignored her.

Daniela leaned in, blood on her cheeks but a certain glow in her eyes. “What’s wrong, baby sister?”

Elena just shook her head, whining for the Lady and receiving nothing in return.

“Mother,” Daniela called, frowning. “The little one is…fussy.”

The Lady’s attention shifted to them briefly, her wine glass swirling pointedly. “She is being impatient, darling. Your sister can surely wait for Mother to finish her wine and conversation first.”

Elena shook her head. “No, I—”

“Be patient,” the Lady bit out, then turned back to Bela. “Apologies, dear. Please, continue.”

Daniela shifted in her seat, pouting, while at her side Elena was frantic with urgency.

She continued to babble pleads, growing in volume, all the while the Lady ignored her and took occasional, deliberately small sips of her wine. Eventually, even Daniela was drawn into the conversation with Bela and the Lady, as they discussed what they would be doing with the rest of their day.

The discussion washed over her like static, not connecting in any language she could name. All her focus was turned on the slow swirling of the wine glass in the Lady’s hand, barely a quarter left—enough that on a normal day she would end it in one sip.

But she just kept swirling it.

The movement was hypnotizing, all she could focus on, as it went around and around and—

Elena felt her body go cold, then hot all at once, as her overfull bladder began to leak slowly.

The three ladies paused in their conversation, all eyes turning to her as she gave a sharp, gasping whine and then a sob.

She tried to squeeze her knees together to stem the tide, but the cuffs barely let her move. She struggled with her wrists too, then, the chains that bound them to the table clanking loudly. But there was no give, no freedom, only the depths of the Lady’s twisted cruelty and herself center stage. 

Elena was helpless to stop the trickle pouring from her, despite her best attempts. On the contrary, like a seal breached, she felt the tight squeeze as her aching bladder began to pour out freely into her diaper. The sensation tore a truly ugly, wretched sob from her lips.

Daniela leaned in sharply, eyes too wide. “Are you alright, sister?”

Elena just continued to cry out, curling up in her chair until her head came to rest on the tabletop. 

“My sweet girl, your sister is fine,” Alcina said, setting the wine glass down on the table. She gave an amused smile to the previously youngest child. Her expression was of a chess player who had executed a flawless checkmate. “She’s just having an accident.”

Daniela’s eyes widened, then, embarrassingly, she ducked her head beneath the table to stare. “Oh.”

Elena kicked against the restraints, crying out but physically incapable of holding it any longer. With the release came a horrible, awful feeling of relief, one that immediately crushed her spirit and soul. Dark tendrils of something curled in her chest, writhing in turbulent waters. “I hate you,” she bit out, hiccuping in great, heaving cries. “Why is all of this such a game to you?!”

The answering look was glacial. “I would watch your tone.”

Elena shuddered awfully, breathing hard, her hands clenching in and out of fists. She picked herself up slowly from the tabletop, glaring through teary eyes. 

“Or what?”

Bela and Daniela both froze.

In the corners, the staff dared not even move or breathe, eyes wide.

“Daniela,” Alcina commanded, the temperature in the room cold. “Let her out of her chair. Now.”

The redhead trembled, hastening to obey her mother’s command. “Yes, Mother!”

Elena continued to breathe heavily, adrenaline and dread dueling. But her common sense had fled alongside her self-esteem, leaving with it a bone-deep anger and childish urge to fight back. To prove a point, when Daniela released her wrists, she struck. The almost empty glass of wine tipped violently, shattering in a cascade of red like blood on the floor.

She bared her teeth up at the Lady. “I hate it here.”

“And I have had enough of your tantrums,” the Lady said, voice controlled but oozing with rage. Her eyes darted to the staff, who hovered awkwardly, eyes wide as they darted between Elena and the Lady. “Clean up this mess.”

Daniela darted away in a swarm as the Lady rounded, arm flying out.

“Excuse me, girls,” Alcina seized Elena by her forearm, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises as she tugged her up and free of the chair. Rather than picking her up as Elena expected, she was forced to walk on her injured feet, crying out as she was half-dragged out of the hallway. “I think your sister needs a moment in time out.”

A literal time out was her intention, it turned out.

Elena found her wrist cuffs bound to a discreet hook in the corner of the room, too high to sit but too low to stand. It forced her to kneel on her aching knees, crying out as she felt the barely-healed skin on her left knee split beneath the bandage once again. Worse too was the way her wet diaper sat heavily, a tormenting reminder.

She was crying, quietly but furiously, hot and angry tears. Her chest still coiled with something hateful and raw, but it had been tempered slightly by being dragged across the castle.  

“I’ve allowed your disrespect time and again, because I recognize that you are still adjusting to your new life,” the Lady bit out, voice slowly rising in volume. Her hand wrapped around Elena’s neck, squeezing down hard until she gasped, the bite mark burning with a pain that made her see stars. “But to disrespect me not only in front of your sisters, but the staff? Have you learned nothing from your punishment, you ungrateful child? Did you think I would abide such words?”

She stayed mute, trembling like a dormouse; her heart throbbed against the Lady’s hold on her neck, throat swallowing but unable to pull in any air. Tears continued to pour, even as her vision began to darken at the edges. 

“I want you to stay here,” Alcina commanded, a dark rage in her words. “And think about what you want to say to me the next time you open your mouth. Nod if you understand me.”

Elena gave a fearful, jerky nod, as much as the hold on her neck would allow.

“Good.” The Lady released her and stepped away, heels stomping with barely restrained fury. “When I return, I expect your apology.”

Then, the door slammed shut behind her, lock sliding into place.

She crumpled, forehead to the wall and scrambling to heave in more breaths.

She was alone.

Chapter Text

Elena’s knees throbbed with blood and stiffness.

The room had long gone dark around her, creeping into the evening, but the Lady had not returned for her.

Every part of her ached, torn open wounds and stiffness creeping all over her body. But she had no choice but to kneel. She had tried shifting to crouch on the balls of her feet, but it only tore open those cuts too, the pain radiating up and down her body and forcing her back to her knees. Her arms had long gone numb, elevated as they were.

It was a miserable state of affairs. Her humiliation and anger had cooled into defeat, into frustration at herself for being unable to resist poking the bear just to watch it snap. It wore at her on a physical level.

But the worst part wasn’t the physical, it was the mental.

Elena had always been prone to negative thoughts, especially lately. Sometimes silence was a threat that it left her with too much time to think.

Left on her lonesome with only her own mind for company, she spiraled quickly and furiously—succumbing to dark, twisting thoughts that lurked beneath the surface, now swelling to consume her completely. She felt deeply alone. Felt like she was sinking deep into an ocean, wishing to be held by something that would not let go, but instead being slowly drowned.

The first few hours were consumed by sobbing and sharp, panicked gasps. If anyone had cared to pass by, they would have heard her strained cries through the wall as she tore at the restraints to try and free herself. In the depths of a frigid panic, she had tugged so hard that her wrists now bore dark purple bruises, like rings on a tree marking the time she had been trapped.

After crying her eyes out, the overwhelming fear began to leak back in.

Her terror was a palpable thing, creeping up and down her spine in shivers. As the shadows of night began to press into the cooling room, she trembled, visions of being put in a cage like a dog or eaten by one of the creatures in the cellar seething in the darkness. She knew in her head the Lady did not want to kill her, but the realm of possibility between punishment and torture felt like a cavernous one full of pitfalls.

Every moment that passed, she felt the lengthening shadows behind her begin to take terrible forms; creatures stalking and pacing, gnashing their teeth at her back, desperate to chew her up and commit her bones to the Castle. She couldn’t turn fully around, was not sure she would want to. The threat kept her immobile, even when she wanted desperately to struggle more.

But even still, the hours crawled on and fear gave way to a bone-deep desperation. She wanted to see someone, anyone. She craved to be touched, softly and sweetly, like a discarded pet desperate for affection. 

She felt adrift in a sea of her thoughts, like a drowning sailor eager for any hands to save her—to hold her, tell her it would be alright. She ached for a lighthouse to call her to safe harbor.

Instead, she drowned in the dark alone.

A slash of light poured through the doorway as the door unlocked and slowly creaked open.

Her heart galloped in her throat as Elena froze, but the footsteps were soft, limping, nothing like the Lady’s. That made her head fight to turn over her shoulder, to catch sight of whoever had breached the solemn darkness.

“Hey, little one,” Cassandra greeted, leaning heavily on the wall beside her. 

Elena’s heart just about burst, relief and worry—something that surprised her as much as it distressed her. “C-Cassandra,” she greeted, throat croaky with dehydration and tears. “What are you doing here?”

“Probably getting myself into more trouble,” Cassandra replied with a roguish grin; it was marred by her split lip and a dark bruise around her cheek. Her own voice was husky, scratchier than usual. “I…heard about what happened. Figured I should give my little savior a visit.”

Elena’s head was tilted to stare at her, cataloging Cassandra’s own injuries—leaning heavily on one leg, hand pressed to her side, bruises and dried blood stains all over. “What happened to you?”

“Punishment—I’ll spare you the graphic details,” Cassandra dismissed, looking down at Elena’s slumped, stiff, painful pose. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like it.” She gave a watery laugh. “I think I’m going crazy.”

Cassandra slowly slid down the wall to sit behind her, legs out straight and groaning. “You’re fine,” she said, a hand gently touching Elena’s back, making the girl jump with a gasp. She cackled, then groaned as it made her ribs ache. “The fact that you think you’re going crazy tells me you aren’t quite there yet. Give it some more time, you’ll get there eventually.”

“You’re not helping.”

“How about this then?”

Elena moaned softly when Cassandra’s hand began to dig into the painfully stiff muscles in her back, knuckles and fingers working as best they could to reduce the knots there. It burned, the movements increasing the blood flow and bringing a painful tingling back to the limbs, but it felt good. 

“I can’t let you out, so don’t bother asking,” Cassandra stated. “Mother’s in a foul enough mood with me already. I’m not that stupid.”

She groaned when the hand drifted lower, thumb digging into her tight lower back. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why did you?”

“Glutton for punishment?” Cassandra proposed, flippantly. Then, hidden behind Elena’s back, her expression tipped into something a little guilty. “I…heard you crying earlier.”

“I thought you enjoyed my crying,” Elena retorted, hot and a little embarrassed.

“I do, you cry so well,” she agreed, too self-confident to be bothered by the admission. “But it’s different. I only like it when it’s funny.”

Perhaps a few hours ago she would have snapped back, but now all Elena did was lean back into the gentle hands working to soothe the angry stiffness beneath her skin. Instead, she said plaintively, “I don’t think any of this is very funny.”

Cassandra fell silent, instead leaning closer to drag the hem of Elena’s dress up, ignoring the tension that bloomed up the girl’s spine.

Elena was surprised when, instead of anything untoward, Cassandra’s knuckles just massaged at the tight muscles of her thighs. The movement was awkward, Cassandra having to half-curl against Elena’s back to reach the opposite side, but she didn’t complain.

“You’re good at that,” Elena said, biting her lip.

Cassandra laughed, a little thread of dark, mischievous intention in it—so very much her. “I’m much better at taking bodies apart, but pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin. It’s not so hard to work out which parts of you need my attention.” 

The words echoed a sentiment much like one the Lady had once said, sitting like a lump in her stomach.

Whatever retort was on her tongue died in her throat as Elena let out a throaty little cry that made Cassandra smirk, thumbs working harder into the painful, cramping muscles deep in her thighs. 

“Listen, Mother is hard on you because she must be,” Cassandra said after a while of sticky silence broken only by panting and touching. “You will get used to it. Maybe even start to enjoy it, after a while.”

Elena made an incredulous noise in the back of her throat, but couldn’t help herself from melting under the assault. “I doubt I will ever enjoy it.”

“You’ll see.” Cassandra laughed, sharp and full of something Elena couldn’t place. Her grin was like a shark scenting blood in the water, waiting to devour. “I might’ve said the same thing a few decades ago. Time changes us in the best ways, little one.”

“I don’t think a century would change that—if I even live half that long,” Elena retorted, angry and wounded and sorrow-heavy after the last few days. The words felt a little too close to home, but she spat them anyway. “I’m only human. Fragile. Breakable.”

An ambiguous hum. “For now.”

A trickle of ice slid into her veins, body stiffening beneath Cassandra’s hands. “What does that mean?”

The brunette let her go with a final squeeze of her thigh, knowing immediately that she had made a mistake. “Wishful thinking—don’t worry, we all enjoy you very much, as tiny and breakable as you are.”

The slide into that low, purring, flirtatious register could not stop the sliver of cold creeping in her veins. The words for now held a suggestion she couldn’t make heads or tails of, but that undeniably implied something she was not ready to hear. Panic threatened to bubble in her chest, but was brutally stamped out with more self-control than she felt capable of. If the last few days and hours had given her anything, it was tears and panic—enough that she no longer could muster any to waste. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, took a shaky breath, then carefully cast the implication aside for examination another time. 

The renewed stiffness in her massage-loosened muscles must have told Cassandra that, too. The brunette did not seem inclined to go into further detail. Instead, she eased away from a frozen Elena with a sigh and began to pull herself to her feet.

“Fuck, that hurts,” Cassandra moaned a little too high as she rose to her feet, using the wall for support. It took a long moment to arrange herself into something upright, panting like she’d run a mile. After steadying herself, she reached out to cup Elena’s cheek with a warm hand. “Apologize to Mother and all will be well, I promise. Don’t make any more trouble, at least for tonight. I’m not sure your puny human body is ready for any more punishment.”

Elena was unable to stop herself from leaning into the gentle touch, despite the half-teasing words. “Don’t go.”

Cassandra paused, seeming surprised by the request—matched by Elena’s own surprise at herself, showcased in clenched fists and flushing cheeks. But slowly, regretfully the hold on her cheek slipped away.

“Sorry, I’m in enough trouble as it is,” she denied, leaning down to press a small kiss to Elena’s tear-stained cheek, relishing in the surprised gasp. Then, with a smirk, delivered a cheeky nip to Elena’s ear. “Be good, little sister. I’ll see you again soon.”

Elena didn’t have anything to say to that, tongue tied and brain scrambled.

Cassandra patted her once more like a dog, then slowly limped out of the door, locking it behind her and leaving Elena once more to the heart-hammering darkness and her own traitorous thoughts.

The dark had sunk itself deep into her by the time the Lady returned, the lingering warmth of Cassandra’s visit forgotten in favor of shivering and shaking as the chill crept into the room.

No maid had been by to light the fire in the hours she had been trapped, something she was both thankful and resentful for. The curtains were still drawn wide, though the balcony doors were thankfully closed. The cold winter was frosting the glass though, seeping slowly inside and giving way to a bone-deep cold that made her breath fog.

So, when heavy footsteps halted outside the door and a key twisted in the lock, Elena sat like an ice sculpture in the dark, waiting to be uncovered by its master craftsman.

The door pushed open, and Elena’s eyes squeezed shut in pain as the overhead lights flipped on. 

“Good evening, dragă.”

She said nothing back, kept her eyes closed, sitting stiff-backed and mute. She sensed that it was not a greeting that sought an answer.

The Lady seemed pleased by her silence, heels clicking like the claws of a large cat as she slowly prowled closer. She halted behind Elena, but made no move to touch her, just drinking in the defeat and submission in her body language. The silence swelling with possibility, good and bad.

Eventually, the Lady spoke. “I hope the time alone allowed you some time to think on what we discussed earlier. Have you reflected on your terrible behavior?”

Elena bit her tongue and gave a rough, jerky nod.

“Good,” Lady Dimitrescu said, reaching out to release her arm cuffs from the hook, letting the numb limbs fall limply in her lap. “Have you thought of something you wish to say?”

The abrupt release of her arms was painful, sparking renewed throbbing in the sockets of her shoulders and jolts like electricity up and down the length of them as the blood flowed back through. Her hands were pale, the wrists bruised dark beneath cuffs. She could barely twitch the screaming muscles, but it felt so good to open and close her fists. 

Cassandra’s words sat heavy in her chest, and she wondered how she believed Elena would ever get used to this kind of treatment, let alone come to enjoy it. There was something twisted in Cassandra’s psychology, in all of the Dimitrescu family. A small, troubled part of herself whispered perhaps in you too, a feeling growing day but day in ways that disturbed her.

The expectant silence from the Lady drew her out of her thoughts, and Elena struggled to work her jaw.

She felt glad that she did not have to face the Lady yet, head hanging down to stare at her lap as she slumped her aching body over. But she had much time to think on her answer, to turn it over in her mind in the dark, until she’d scrubbed the raw edges of the words smooth.

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes on her bruised wrists. “I’m sorry.”

“And what are you sorry for?”

“For disrespecting you in front of the staff,” she continued, voice low, soft. “And for saying I hated you. For smashing the wine glass. I was very angry, but that’s no excuse. I was…out of line.”

There was a fine balance to the art of lying, she was learning—it lay in half-truths and misconstrued words, appealing to egos and interspersed with telling someone what they wanted to hear. She was learning from the best, like it or not.

And contrary to her words, Elena did not regret her actions, not really. She had certainly meant them in the heat of the moment. In fact, she still felt anger lingering like embers deep within when she thought of the injustice of it all, humiliation beyond bounds that had kept her in tears for hours after. But more deeply, she felt regret for allowing herself to act on the feelings—foolish was the mouse who struggled in the beast’s maw, knowing it would bite.

In truth, Elena was tired of punishment, of fighting, of being humiliated and hurt over and over.

Even now, she felt Cassandra’s soft touch on her back, the surprising warmth of her palm and kiss on her cheek, and ached with something she could not put a name to. A traitorous piece of her that found comfort in it. Despite it all, she craved that fragile, fleeting peace.

“Please, forgive me,” the words tasted like bile and tore like teeth. But they begged for the return of the protector, not the punisher. “I regret my actions.”

A long moment of silence passed, calculating, assessing, perhaps picking apart the words for falsehoods.

Whatever she found, it made the Lady soften somewhat. A hand reached out, pressing gently to the top of her head. “You speak such pretty words, my daughter,” the voice softened marginally, prompting. “Do you think you deserve forgiveness?”

It felt like a test.

“I think,” Elena said slowly, carefully, “that decision is not mine to make, Mommy.”

Gentle hands fell upon her then, reaching out and easing Elena to stand. Then, when they both found her legs trembling and buckling, she was gathered up and cradled close. 

Elena dared to peer at the Lady, surprised to find her smiling. It was the nicer, more familiar smile, not the one that spoke of mocking but the one that she gave when she called Elena daughter.

“I believe the lesson is learned,” Alcina said eventually, depositing her on the bed. The embrace of the blanket was heavenly on her sore body. “But I want you to remember what you learned tonight. I can forgive many things for you, daughter, but my understanding only goes so far. Do not disrespect me in front of the staff again. Are we clear?”

A much quicker nod. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl,” Lady Dimitrescu said, standing over her and slowly pulling and rotating her limbs, studying the way Elena hissed and flinched with the motions. Satisfied there was no lasting damage, she moved to study bloodstained bandages and bruises. “I apologize, little one. I fear I may have been a little…harsh on you. It seems I have forgotten the fragility of humans.”

Elena was surprised by the apology, eyes widening as she looked up at the slightly troubled look on the Lady’s face. “I…” she didn’t know what to say to it, really, she couldn’t forgive her for the treatment. Instead, her eyes flicked to bruised wrists. “I did some of the damage myself.”

“We have made a sufficient mess of you, dragă,” Alcina agreed, leaning down to scoop her up again. “I believe a soothing bath will do you good, then Mommy will tend to you.”

The hot bathwater felt like heaven.

Elena faded in and out of awareness, content to drift with her head pressed against the back of the bathtub on her own as the Lady dipped briefly in and out, voices muttering beyond the half-closed door. The gnawing stiffness in her bones and joints eased, cramped muscles slowly and painfully relaxing. 

The Lady had not poured the usual bubbles tonight either, but this time it did not feel like a deliberate snub. Instead the water was thick with herbal smells, strong and soothing to her nerves: lavender, peppermint, sage, and many more she could not name but that created a pleasant blend. It stung against her reopened wounds, but the pain felt like proof she had survived, and she bore it stoically.

Eventually, the Lady returned, shutting the door behind her.

“You look comfortable, my love,” Alcina said, tugging her dress and undergarments off. “Allow Mommy to disturb you.”

Obediently, Elena shifted herself aside, letting the Lady descend into the fragrant water and claim the bath seat from her. Her body throbbed like a sentient bruise as she awkwardly waded, but she did not have to wait long before the expected arms hooked around her middle and pulled her into the curve of the Lady’s body.

Elena felt the lingering tension bleed out of her as the Lady massaged into her limbs, her hands firmer and larger than Cassandra’s, forcing any remaining tension out of her with zeal. She hated to admit how good it felt, or that she leaned into the touches. But she was coherent enough to feel conflicted about it, chewing on her lip and swallowing back yelps as the Lady dug into the worst of the knots beneath her skin. 

“You did well, but I am unhappy about these,” the Lady said, running a slippery hand up Elena’s forearm to gently thumb at the darkly bruised skin around her wrists. “I do not recall giving these to you.”

She sucked in a breath, trying her best to moderate her tone into something respectful. “I…don’t like being tied up. Not like that.”

“You are not supposed to like it, you are supposed to learn from it,” Alcina replied primly. Though her thumb continued to worry against the marks. “I expect you not to hurt yourself. The only bruises you should have are the ones I give you. These serve no lesson.”

Elena looked away from the soft touch, self-conscious. “I…panicked.”

“A reasonable response, perhaps, but still,” her hand was pulled back then, the rotation of her shoulder twinging with the night’s aches. The Lady laid a kiss to the skin, feather light but purposeful. “Do not get in the habit of such things.”

“…I won’t.”

“Good girl.”

Elena found herself bundled out of the bath only once the water had begun to cool. 

Clearly some part of the Lady’s discussion had been with maids, as the fireplace was stoked back to roaring and the room was considerably warmer than it had been, no trace of shadow in its reaches. 

She was deposited on the bed, still wet from the bath, then carefully patted dry. The Lady did not seem to care about the water seeping into the covers, an unusual allowance from her. Rather, she was much more focused on re-cataloging her injuries now that Elena was laid bare—something she still found it within herself to whine about, until the Lady scoffed and dropped the damp towel across her stomach while she went in search of medical supplies.

Surprised by the concession, Elena dragged the oversized towel over herself with jerky arms. It would be a moot point when she came back, but for the moment she enjoyed the rarity of the Lady bending, even slightly, to her wishes. Elena didn’t know what to make of the Lady’s constant mood swings, it made her skin itch.

“The night is late, you have had a rather…trying day,” Alcina said as she returned, beginning to deftly dress Elena’s wounds, starting with the lingering bite mark on her neck. “Do you wish to go to bed, dragă?”

The kind of exhaustion she had was bone deep but insomniatic, craving not sleep but rest. She had slept so much on and off recently, days blurring together, that the idea of it made her mutely shake her head. She sought to do something, anything that wasn’t sitting there with her own thoughts or losing hours between meals.

“Very well,” the Lady said, a thoughtful look on her face. “You have missed dinner. I would like you to eat, once Mommy is done tending to you.”

Elena was hungry, admittedly. Her body had become used to regular meals since coming to the castle, some of her unhealthy thinness filling out in the past months. The previous lunch of mashed fruit had not sustained her through the hours and crying spells. 

“Okay,” she agreed. Then, despite herself, found the strength to nervously ask. “The tea?”

“Later. Mommy can watch you well enough without it for now, and she would rather prefer you to be awake if she is to feed you,” Alcina answered, taping a sticky bandage over the split skin of her knee—it did not bleed anymore, but it looked awful, and she pressed a kiss over the covered skin as an afterthought. “Though you will be taking it before bed tonight.”

Elena nodded, resentful of that idea but not overly surprised.

She was subjected to the same careful bandaging and gentle kisses all over, which made her stomach clench with discomfort each time. She had soft memories of her Mamă doing the same when she was young, and the bittersweet memories made her bite her lip as her heart turned wretchedly pulpy inside. She looked away into the distance, and blessedly the Lady did not comment on her misty eyes.

The following customary preparations went without conversation, numbly submitted to—diaper, socks, slippers, a thicker night dress for the winter season, then a fluffy gray robe of her own that contrasted with the Lady’s soft white one. 

Eventually, the Lady lifted her up into her arms like a princess. “Come, I think you have seen enough of my bedroom. Shall we have a change of scenery?”

The possibilities in that were scary, but she felt somewhat bolstered by the soft touches and gentle care. And she was very much eager to get out of the Lady’s chambers, the sight of it enough to last her a lifetime at this point. “Yes,” she agreed hesitantly. “I…would like that.”

The Lady’s smile then was true, genuine, deepening her crow’s feet. “I have just the thing in mind.”

The Lady’s private library was much smaller than the grand main library that Daniela favored, but it felt warmer, cozier somehow. 

Elena had never been into it before. Only the most senior house maids were permitted entrance to clean the Lady’s private rooms, and as a kitchen maid she had never had the honor. Now, she peered around with thinly-veiled curiosity. It was still larger than the servant’s quarters, but it felt homey and warm, lit by soft lamps and firelight, artfully cluttered with soft furniture.

“An oasis away from the chaos,” Alcina explained, a smile in place. “I do adore my little Daniela, but the central library is her lovechild. It seems each week her method of organization changes on a whim. I rather prefer keeping my literary collections more…predictable.”

At that, Elena startled herself with a small snicker. “She is rather known for stressing out the maids assigned to the library.”

“She does so love to torment the help,” Alcina agreed, expression wry. “But I cannot deny her voracity for literature.”

“I often read to my other daughters when they first came to me,” Alcina continued as she carried Elena towards a large sofa set before a roaring fireplace. The Lady placed Elena gently down on it. “I suspect it made some impression on Daniela, if not entirely her sisters. I would like to offer the same to you.”

Elena was surprised by the thread of vulnerability that entered her voice—it sounded yearning, eager for a time long passed. Not for the first time, she came to wonder just what it had been like for the Lady, raising the likes of Daniela, Cassandra and Bela alone. She wondered if they experienced even a fraction of what she had.

“Yes. I might be a poor audience though,” Elena said eventually, when it became clear the Lady expected an answer. “I…never got the chance to read very much in the village. Books were too expensive, rare to come by.”

“You can read, though?”

“I can, well enough. My parents ensured that I could be self-sufficient,” Elena answered, voice soft as she dwelled on days long gone. She had been a teenager when they passed, her mother a year after her father. She had learned to read on well-loved classics and books on foraging, borrowed from the Duke. “I rarely read for leisure in the village, though—certainly nothing like what you have here.”

In truth, her history with reading consisted largely of dog-eared romance novels that the village girls passed around when watchful parents weren’t looking, things one read under their covers and stashed in the back of underwear drawers. She rather doubted the Lady’s tastes swung in such a direction.

“I assure you, we carry all manner of novels here, little one. And what we cannot find, the Duke can procure. I’m sure your sister would love to give some recommendations,” Alcina stated, turning towards the shelves with a single-minded focus. “Still, would you begrudge Mommy from choosing a book for us?”

Elena silently shook her head, allowing the Lady to choose. The number of novels in their floor to ceiling in shelves made her head spin, she wouldn’t know where to begin. Besides, the Lady seemed pleased by her answer, and keeping her happy would allow time for Elena’s sore limbs to heal before she inevitably put her foot in her mouth again.

Eventually, after much debate, the Lady returned with a book in hand. 

Squeaking as she was lifted off the couch, Elena quickly found her bearings again when she was re-settled back into the Lady’s lap, the book set in her lap and the Lady leaning over her shoulder so they could read it together.

Truth be told, Elena half expected a child’s book, it would track with what she had come to expect so far. However, she was pleasantly surprised when she saw the thin tome, well worn and obviously read many times, its beautifully golden filigree cover faded to time.

“You’ve read this one often?”

“Mm, Le Fanu paints a rather vivid picture, and is not so verbose as Dracula. My daughters were quite fixated upon this one,” Alcina replied, something strange in her smile—like longing for a time long gone. “I think they thought the subject matter quite hilarious.”

Elena tilted her head. “What is it about?”

A smirk. “Vampires, naturally.”

Despite herself, Elena snorted. “Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

“Perhaps, but it is quite compelling,” Alcina replied, opening the book to reveal pages annotated in a number of different hands and colors along the margins. “As you can see, the girls rather loved the story. I hope that you will as well, but if not—well, it is short enough.”

Elena peered down at the pages, beginning to slowly read, only to be surprised by the Lady’s voice beginning above her.

“You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature—”

A light knock sounded at the door, prompting the Lady to pause, thumb tucking in as she half-closed the novel and held Elena a little closer.

Elena found herself frustrated by the interruption to the story telling, but also a little relieved. She was holding her breath, she realized. The words tangled something deep within her, rattling inside the hollows of her chest with a voice like the Lady’s. Where perhaps the other Dimitrescu daughters saw themselves as Carmilla, Elena sharply and startlingly felt herself as Laura.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Elena.” 

Her attention was stolen by the promise of food as an older, gray-haired maid came into the room. One of the senior handmaids, the flower-shaped brooch on her collar a mark of her seniority. She was vaguely familiar, Elena thought maybe her name was Tatianna. 

The maid curtsied effortlessly, then set a silver tray down on the side table. A bottle of wine and a singular glass was left for the Lady as well. Then, by the Lady’s leave, she was gone. Quick and efficient as a ghost—the way one had to be to work in Castle Dimitrescu for the years one had to achieve to reach her status.

“We can continue later, little one,” Lady Dimitrescu smiled indulgently, catching the way Elena’s eyes darted between the tray and the book with a thoughtful look. She marked the page, then closed it and set it aside. “I would have you eat first, before we continue.”

The tray was lifted by the Lady and set aside. “Does it please you, dragă?”

Elena was pleased, or rather stunned was maybe the better word. It was food, real food—fragrant meat with gravy and baked potatoes, all steaming hot. She absently wondered which kitchen staff had been woken in the dead of night to prepare her meal, but banished it away with some effort.

“It looks…delicious,” she said, keenly aware of the way her stomach growled. Then added a hasty, “Thank you!”

She glanced questioningly up to the Lady, who had poured herself a glass of wine and was sipping slowly from it. Her lip was quirked, seeming pleased by the way Elena looked to her before daring to reach out. 

“Mommy is feeling generous tonight,” Alcina hummed. “Feed yourself, if it pleases you.”

Elena did not need to be told twice, eager to reclaim some of the independence that had been stolen from her. She reached out for the plate, tugging it into her lap and beginning to eat. She did not spare her time for manners, had never really seen the need, simply stuffing bites in like a starving dog and choking them down deliberately.

The Lady watched her between sips, seeming a little horrified by the display. “We must work on manners—you’re almost worse than Daniela was when she came to me. At least chew, my dear, ”

Embarrassed, Elena flushed and obediently slowed down, making sure to chew all of the bites.

Eventually, the plate ran empty and she was satisfied. There was a part of her that wanted to lick the plate for the remnants of the gravy, as delicious as it was, but even she knew better than to do that while the Lady was present. Instead, she set the plate down on the table and leaned back with a content sigh. 

“Satisfied, dearest?”

She gave a soft hum. “Very.”

“Thirsty?”

“A little,” she answered, but saw there was no water or otherwise set out for her. “But I’m okay.”

A spark of an idea formed in the Lady’s eye. She slowly reached for the wine bottle and topped up her glass. “Here, little one, would you care for a sample?”

Her entire body stiffened as the glass sloshed at her eye level, dark red and visually no different from normal wine. But she had never been partial to alcohol anyway, least of all the Lady’s special kind.

She stuttered, “N-No thank you, Mommy.”

“I insist,” Alcina said, setting the glass to her lip and waiting, a quirk to her lip. “You should know what the vintages of your house taste like. It is not so bad, I assure you.”

Elena was very much not assured. But she was not about to risk the hard won peace with another act of defiance, as much as her hands shook and her dinner threatened to come back up. “I haven’t had wine before, I’m afraid it would be wasted on me—”

“You are a Dimitrescu, nothing is wasted on you,” the Lady said, and slowly began to tip the glass.

She had no choice but to drink, despite the horror creeping in her chest. The part of her that had been to the cellar, had seen part of the harvesting process that led to the Lady’s most special reserve. Her eyes squeezed shut, stomach roiling as she drank down the smallest sip.

The wine burned in her throat and gut, and she resisted the urge to cough. 

It did not taste metallic, as she had imagined it would. It was heavy, sweet and dark in flavor, coating her mouth and her stomach both. It was strong, burning awfully like the amaretto cherries in the black forest cake she had helped the baker make the month before. But there was a dryness to it too that left her licking her lips. 

She sunk backwards into the Lady, denying further sips and panting like she’d run a race. “I—”

“It is okay not to like it,” Alcina said, thumbing a stray drop from the corner of her mouth and then licking it away. “It is something of an acquired taste.”

The worst part was, she wasn’t sure she hated it. It was sweet on her tongue, lingering in her mouth, stoking a low fire in her chest like she’d been sitting too close to the fireplace. It was objectively good, and she hated it as she thought it. Wondered what monster this house had made of her that she would enjoy the blood of people she might have known—

A kiss was dropped to her cheek, cutting through her spiraling thoughts.

“Fear not, dragă. It is just a painfully ordinary glass of our house’s wine.” A cheeky smile was offered. “I save Sanguis Virginis for proper mealtimes, this is just for the buzz. Nothing untoward, I swear it.”

Abruptly, the clenching in her chest eased, a roar of righteous anger replacing it as she squirmed in the Lady’s lap. She protested, “You could have told me that before—”

The arm around her waist kept her there, like iron. But the Lady laughed, not necessarily cruel or mocking, just amused. “I could have,” she agreed, offering the glass to her once more. “Would you care for another?”

Elena turned her nose up, instead reaching out for Carmilla once more.

“Can we read again now?”

The Lady laughed once again, but opened the book and began to read once again.

Chapter Text

“What did you think, dearest?”

Elena blinked, startled from her intent listening as the Lady closed the book and set it aside to address her. She tilted up, meeting curious golden eyes peering back at her, waiting. 

“It was very sad,” she hedged, twisting the hem of her dress between her fingers in thought as she avoided the Lady’s heavy gaze. She chewed briefly at her lip, trying to arrange her thoughts into something resembling coherency. “At the end, the way Laura thought of her despite everything, both as the monster and the girl. It felt…”

Elena fell silent, then. She didn’t know how to put to words what she was feeling, truly.

The tale was a fraught one—of love, of lust, of reconciling the creature of the night with the kinder friendship of a girl in the day, then of betrayal and murder and mourning despite it all. It felt very…pointed, in a way that still had the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

The words within the pages felt like they were spilling out of her own diary, if only slightly different in form.

She felt out of sorts, troubled.

The Lady hummed, hand settling on her thigh and gently thumbing at it, a reassuring motion. “It is perhaps not quite the bedtime tale I imagined it would be,” Alcina replied, spotting the conflict across her face. “Are you alright, little one?”

Elena nodded slowly, trying to hide just how unsettled she felt. “Just thinking.”

“The best stories are ones that linger with us long after they are done,” the Lady said, caressing the book cover with a fond hand. “I have read this one hundreds of times at my girls’ whims, but it always seems to offer a new insight into the nature of both humans and those above mortality.”

And it was so very much like her Lady to refer to vampires as above mortality—where humans painted immortality as the other, the Lady fancied mortality as the lesser. She painted herself a Lord and humans as but sustenance—and Elena wondered where she sat in that paradigm, daughter and mortal both.

It felt like an appropriate segue into a question that she should not ask, but one burning deep in the pit of her stomach.

“The book spoke of vampires having a patient, almost loving passion for blood—capable of anything in the name of its pursuit, until they can take it,” Elena said slowly, carefully. “Is it like that for you?”

“I am not anything so pedestrian as a vampire, dragă,” Alcina said, peering at her with the eyes of a lion looking over its territory, unchallenged. “You have seen the cellar, seen what we eat, seen dark sides of this Castle and myself. Do you think I am capable of monstrosities in the name of acquiring that which I want?”

Elena slowly, purposefully turned her eyes down. They both knew the answer.

“The difference,” Alcina reached out, tilting her chin back up so they could make eye contact, “is that you are my daughter. Your blood, your body, your everything is mine.”

That sent a spark of fear through her, stiffening in the Lady’s hold as her mind began to whirl once again on its familiar spirals.

However, the Lady just held her tighter, refusing to relinquish her to her terror just yet. “But these things I do not wish to rip from you without your consent—that is the fate of cattle, not children,” Alcina continued, firm, peering deeply at her. “I am many things, darling: selfish, possessive, cruel, monstrous at times, yes. But I am your mother, I wish only to keep you safe here with me.”

The words were balm and sandpaper both, and she shivered against the claiming gleam in the Lady’s eyes. 

There was something written in that gaze, deep in the darkest flecks among gold that spoke of a fierce yearning and immortal hunger. Under that gaze, she very much felt like a child; unable to comprehend that the Lady had been and would be for longer than she could fathom, and that somehow within the realms of immortality she had found some value, selfish as it was, in her.

The intensity of the attention made her shy away, eyes closing to block it out.

Lady Dimitrescu smiled then, unseen by her sealed eyes. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Elena’s forehead, ignoring her startle. “You appear tired, dragă—it is long past time when all good children should be in bed. I fear I have kept you up too long. Shall we take you to bed?”

Her eyes flew open, a word of protest bubbling on her tongue.

It died at the look on the Lady’s face, which brook no argument. “I will read to you again soon, little one.”

“…Okay.”

“Good girl.”

Elena sat through the Lady brushing her teeth for her with as much dignity as she could muster, feet kicking softly as she sat on the vanity, trying desperately to ignore the strange churning in her belly. She felt unsettled, chills crawling up and down her spine. The constant hot-cold, harshness then sweetness of the Lady’s attitude had made a mess of her.

She wiggled a little, uncomfortable by the press of her diaper and the lingering bite of pain in her limbs. Her feet swung a little faster, but she ignored the throbbing of her knee, finding comfort in the familiarity of the pain. 

A soft huff interrupted her murky thoughts.

“Watch yourself, child.”

Very deliberately, Elena removed her foot from the soft curve of the Lady’s stomach, flushing darkly. “M’sorry,” she garbled around the toothbrush, succeeding mostly in getting foam all over her chin.

“You’re such a messy one,” Lady Dimitrescu muttered, but her tone was indulgent; as was cloth that wiped the toothpaste away from her. “Mommy really must teach you some manners.”

A daunting subject, but one she could not dwell on long as the childish cup was held to her mouth and she rinsed and spat in the sink. 

With personal hygiene taken care of, the Lady carried her like a princess back towards the bed and set her at the edge. Then, she wandered to her vanity, where an unfamiliar box of polished wood now sat.

“Now, your restraints are non-negotiable, I’m afraid, lest you run off again,” Alcina said, returning with the box. “However, I have prepared an alternative set.”

Elena stared, confused—she had almost forgotten that the Lady had not put the previous cuffs back on after her bath.

“Why?”

“Because the previous ones caused you harm, so they have been disposed of,” she replied flippantly, the simple words enough to make Elena’s chest squeeze in ways she couldn’t put words to. “Regardless, these are much more suitable for you, sweet girl.”

The box was opened so she could see it, revealing a much more discreet set of dark leather cuffs. They looked almost like wide bracelets, but thicker and tougher around the wrist with a soft fabric lining. Each one bore the Dimitrescu emblem with a discreet hook and chain to allow them to be clasped together. Elena could not begin to imagine where she got such a thing.

She blinked at them for a long moment, then up at the Lady—who was staring expectantly back at her?

“Oh,” Elena said, remembering herself. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Alcina smiled, gesturing for her wrists. “Shall we put them on?”

Elena almost scowled, but held it back with great effort, obediently presenting her wrists to the Lady with her palms up. They were taken softly, thumbs playing along the deep purple rings of her bruises. The touch, gentle as it was, prompted her to look into the Lady’s eyes—finding them blazing once more with strange emotion.

Eventually, after staring for a too long moment, the Lady reached for the new cuffs and began to fasten them to her wrists. They were much softer, breathable against her injured skin. She stared as they were locked on by a discreet keyhole hidden in the emblem, the tiny key then tucked into the Lady’s bra with a wink.

“Are they comfortable?”

Elena reined in her surprise at being asked her opinion, the simple question something she’d not been asked in recent days. But she flexed her wrists, rolling them slightly, finding that the bracelets did not bite quite the same as the last pair. She imagined that with enough time, and if not actively chained up, one might forget they were even there.

“Very much so,” Elena said, nodding. “Thank you.”

An indulgent hand dropped onto her head, patting like a dog. “Good. Let Mommy know if they irritate those lovely bruises of yours.”

“Would you take them off?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“No,” the Lady answered immediately as she reached to link them together at Elena’s front, the lack of hesitation making her scowl. “But Mommy may think of alternatives—a leash, perhaps?”

Elena wisely shut her mouth. “They are great.”

“A shame,” the Lady drawled, teasing, tapping softly over her bandaged neck. “Maybe next time.”

Elena wasn’t entirely convinced it was a joke, but she didn’t have time to ponder on it as a knock sounded on the door. 

The Lady growled softly at the interruption, pulling away and taking the empty box with her. She set it on the bedside table, then stalked over to the door to open it. She spoke briefly with whoever was on the other side, then returned carrying a familiar silver tray.

Elena’s mouth flattened, already knowing what was inside of it without looking. The real question was, in what form would her tea be presented to her tonight?

She waited expectantly to be picked up and set in the usual armchair, but the Lady shook her head. “Scoot up, little mouse. To the pillows, if you please.”

And, well, that made her stomach sink.

Elena made a show of slowly, reluctantly shuffling upwards. The movement made her aching legs burn, made her question why she even needed the tea when she surely wasn’t going to be able to run away any time soon. Though she preserved the peace and wisely stomped the petulant question down.

Sure enough, the Lady set the tray aside and uncovered it to reveal the same bottle from the night before.

“Is the bottle really necessary,” she asked, a little bit of an impudent whine making its way into her voice. “Surely a teacup would—”

The Lady’s gaze sharpened a little as she approached the bed, milky bottle of tea in hand. “Would you care to argue with me so soon, dragă? After I’ve been so generous to you tonight?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she dipped her head down, staring at her clenched fists instead. “No.”

“You reap what you sow, darling,” Alcina replied, lip quirking at seeing her so quick to back down. “Just because you want something, does not mean you get it. And each time you whine like a child about it, you prove Mommy’s point. The bottle stays.”

Elena knew logically that her protests earned her no favors, but it did not make it any easier to swallow.

She was sick of being treated like a child—she was twenty years old, not two, and although her self respect had taken many blows in the last few days, she had not quite given up on trying to piece the shreds of it back together. A foolish notion in light of the deliberate way the Lady made to knock down all of her walls, but hers all the same.

Alcina picked up on the war of emotions on her face, her eyes sparking with something a little mocking. “Besides,” she said theatrically, as if remembering some far flung memory, “you drank it so well for me last night, little one.”

Elena managed to be self-conscious enough to flush, crimson skin matching her hair. Her memories of the feeding were blissfully fuzzy, tea-soaked and dreamy as they often were, but the slow onset left her with a little too much memory when she thought on it hard enough. She had the faintest tingle of sensation on her lips, her tongue, the memory of chasing liquid droplets between warm skin.

Her eyes averted, face burning even more.

Alcina smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek with a hum. “Such interesting colors you turn—if only I could peer inside that brain of yours to see just what makes my little one so flustered.”

Elena sputtered for an answer, but couldn’t force herself to get anything out besides a grumble.

The Lady ignored her muttering, climbing onto the bed. “Come here, sweet girl,” she said, reclining into the cushions and waiting.

For a long moment, Elena sat frozen—she had expected to be dragged into the Lady’s arms as she usually was, toted around like a shiny new toy regardless of her own feelings on the matter. But this was worse. This was, once again, asking her to be the harbinger of her own humiliation, to voluntarily concede to the Lady’s power despite her own wishes.

Patient, the Lady watched her go through the stages of grief with clinical interest, wiggling the bottle teasingly. “Before it gets cold, dragă.”

It felt like it took an age to unlock her limbs, but slowly, carefully, Elena shifted towards her. Then, even more hesitantly when no assistance was offered, she climbed carefully onto the Lady. It was an awkward position as she came to sit sideways in her lap, trying her best to stay upright and not force too much weight onto her.

Alcina leaned further back into the pillows, smiling. “Such a nervous little girl, come here,” she said pointedly, hand forcing Elena’s thighs down so she sat fully on her lap, then reaching an arm out to steady her back. “How is Mommy going to feed this to you like that? Relax, sweetheart.”

Elena found herself leaning back into Alcina’s hand, slowly shifting closer to her until she was curled across her lap and her side was pressed into the Lady’s stomach. Her cheek quickly found the top of her chest, pressed once more into soft skin. It made the spark of memory flashback before her eyes, and she felt her face burn.

“My, so shy,” Alcina cooed, pecking the top of her head. “You melt my heart, dear one.”

She swallowed back something angry, but when the bottle was held to her mouth, she reluctantly opened it. Elena gasped when a small spurt of the tea hit her tongue unprovoked, a few drops slipping from the seal of her lips to drip down her chin. She cast the Lady an annoyed look.

“Such a messy little girl,” Alcina chided, smile unrepentant and a fraction mocking. 

Her cheeks hot with anger and embarrassment, Elena sealed her mouth more fully around the nipple of the bottle. The Lady squeezed again, but she was more prepared this time. The milk-laden tea was just as sweet as she remembered, but ruined by the medicinal aftertaste. Swallowing the small mouthful, she glared a little and tried to reach up to take hold of the bottle.

As expected, her bound hands were batted away, but the Lady stopped squeezing the bottle just to see her squirm. Instead, she allowed Elena the unique humiliation of once again drinking it herself.

Drinking was as awkward as the last time, making her work her lips and cheeks in strange ways, but eventually she began to swallow it down by the mouthful. The Lady watched her with undisguised fascination as she drank, and Elena deliberately closed her own eyes to avoid the sticky, strange feelings crawling through her. 

The fuzziness set in slowly, crawling through her limbs and sapping her strength, leaving her flagging into the Lady’s hold as she continued to drink. The lukewarm liquid filled her with warmth, and as she drained the last of it and began to curl further into a warm hold, she felt gentle lips on her forehead.

“Good night, my dear.”

Elena woke to hands in her hair.

She yawned softly, awareness slow to return as she fought the urge to sink back to sleep. For a long moment she accepted the touch, eyes heavy. It was only with the return of higher consciousness that she gradually realized the gentle hands upon her were smaller, more hesitant than the Lady could ever be.

Her eyes slowly peeled open.

“Good morning, sister.”

Elena stared up into the eyes of the eldest of the Dimitrescu siblings, who pulled her hand away from Elena’s hair with a peculiar expression, like a child who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. She realized, then, that her head was cradled in Bela’s lap.

She flushed as red as her hair. “B-Bela,” she said, stiffening and making as if to move. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Stay,” was all the blonde offered, fingers slowly pressing Elena’s head back down. “It’s okay, little one.”

And Elena, well—

She stared.

Her time spent around Bela was limited, both as a maid and as whatever she was now. But it was easy to see why the staff revered her over her sisters. Bela radiated a calmer, level-headed energy; like whatever had shaken loose of Daniela, she had received in double doses. It was well-known too that her staff were rarely harmed—capturing her favor, rare as it was, was like striking gold. 

Still, though her calm face seemed steady, safe harbors, Elena knew better than to think anyone was placid in this household. She still felt the ghost of Bela’s teeth on her jugular, the growl like a claim, and thought that below the façade lurked something far more dangerous when it snapped.

“Okay,” Elena whispered, allowing herself to stay resting in Bela’s lap, waiting for the blonde to release her cheek—she did not. 

Her eyes cast around the room, but found it empty but for the eldest who had taken her mother’s place on the bed. The morning light was pouring through the windows over them both, winter cold but warm with a hint of sun, bleaching the blonde hair resplendently. She wore no hood today, face clean and lipstick immaculate, looking every bit as put together as the Lady.

Elena found her voice, breaking the absent stroking of a thumb on her cheek. “Where is the Lady?”

“Mother,” Bela corrected, a thread of warning in her tone, “is indisposed.”

She wore the tone of authority well, another reflection of Lady Dimitrescu. It was easy to see in that voice why she was next in the food chain, the trusted right hand. There was an almost regal air to her, learned by observing; like a princess who had sat in her queen’s shadow. But it was not the cold-faced heiress who demanded perfection of her staff, who sent maids to the cellar for giving anything but their best.

No, despite the warning, Bela smiled at her.

Elena just stared up at her, brain swimming. “When will she be back?”

“When her business is conducted,” the eldest said, summarily unhelpful—another learned behavior she would assume, perhaps hereditary because all of the Dimitrescu family seemed to be experts at dodging questions. “Mother had entrusted you to me for the time being.”

“Right…” Elena blinked up at her, her voice coming out awkward, stilted. “She has?”

“Naturally,” Bela snorted, chin tilting up in a slightly haughty way. “Though our sisters do not lack motivation, they are not the first choice when it comes to matters of childcare.”

She resisted the spiteful urge to roll her eyes at the word childcare, knowing she fought a losing battle. But she could not quite keep the sour expression off of her face. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

“You are not, and neither Mother nor myself will allow it,” Bela replied primly, a wry thread of amusement in her voice—like someone who had heard something spectacularly silly. She pulled her hand back finally from Elena’s cheek, flicking her on the forehead instead and smiling at her little flinch. “You are my baby sister, you are to follow my example. Lesson one, obeying Mother is in your best interest.”

Elena snorted. “I feel like the family lessons are getting repetitive.”

“Because you refuse to learn them,” Bela retorted, eyeing her pointedly but not unkindly. Her voice dropped a little lower, eyes darting around the room as if someone were spying. “I respected your decision to cover for Cassandra for our sister’s sake, but it does not mean I intend to stand idly by when you are in my care. I am to be a good influence on you.”

A new image began to crystallize in Elena’s mind at her words: of a girl who adored her family, who bent the rules when she could afford to and maybe more, but who held the opinion of her mother in highest regard. It fit neatly with the Bela she had seen at meals, eager to impress and be praised, the eldest in a family of unruly children and upon whom expectations undoubtedly fell the hardest.

“Fine,” Elena sighed, dragging herself carefully out of Bela’s lap with her bound wrists and sitting up, blankets pooling at her waist. “What are we going to do?”

Bela’s head tipped, assessing. “Hygiene, then breakfast.”

Elena felt embarrassed to note the Lady had already changed her while she was asleep, diaper and bandages. She was reluctantly grateful for the former, she could not imagine letting the eldest Dimitrescu do it, the thought made her stomach drop sickeningly. It did not spare her from the humiliation of a smiling Bela checking her like a child, ignoring her sputtering and whining.

“You’re fine, sister,” Bela said simply, before unclasping the tether and linked wrist cuffs, carrying her through to the bathroom.

The Lady must’ve given Bela a checklist, because Elena’s face was washed, teeth brushed and hair tidied with brutal efficiency. She tried to protest that she could do it herself, but any attempts were met with swatted hands and bared teeth. The latter of which made Elena quiet instantly, remembering the feeling of them on her neck.

Once she was sufficiently tidied, she was taken back to bed and dressed like a doll. Bela stripped her naked, ignoring the humiliated tears pricking in her eyes as Elena squirmed under the unfamiliar gaze.

“You are fine,” Bela reassured, reaching for a dress that had been laid. “I had to help dress Daniela for weeks after we were reborn you know, she refused to keep her clothes on for more than ten minutes at a time. It was quite infuriating for Mother, and made for a few awkward family dinners.”

In another situation perhaps Elena would have laughed, but was too busy scrambling to cover bare chest from golden eyes.

Undeterred, Bela continued, pulling the dress over her head as she spoke. “Besides, the female body is nothing to be ashamed about—Mother has quite the collection of sculptures dedicated to the female form you know, they are rather…compelling.”

Elena said nothing, holding the dress close like a lifeline as socks and shoes were slipped on. Her mouth quivered, and she nervously bit her lip.

“Your feet look better, no bandages now,” Bela said as she rose to stand. “But Mother would like you to avoid standing or walking for another day or two, just to be safe. I will carry you.”

Elena wanted to sigh, but held it in with great effort. She was growing rather tired of being toted around like a teddy bear everywhere she went. If this kept up, her legs would surely begin to atrophy. “Okay.”

“Would you care for breakfast?”

She wanted to say no, but couldn’t bring herself to vocalize it when her stomach gurgled a little. “Is it…with everyone else?”

“Unfortunately not,” Bela shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind Elena’s ear with a careful hand. “You slept in today, little one. I understand Mother kept you rather occupied last night, but Daniela was upset by your absence. I think she’s also rather put out that you were entrusted to me.”

There was a note of pride in Bela’s voice; speaking as if she had won a spectacular argument.

Despite her own reservations, Elena was somewhat glad it was Bela. She could not fathom what a day spent unsupervised with Daniela would be like, or Cassandra for that matter—either one spelled out something dangerous for Elena’s mental health, no matter how much time she had spent with them so far.

“Okay,” Elena nodded again. “Food sounds good.”

Bela surprised her by turning away, crouching slightly. “Climb on, little one.”

Her eyes widened, non-comprehending. “What—”

“Arms over my shoulders,” Bela commanded, facing away but with a slight pink tinge to her pale skin—embarrassed by it, perhaps? “Dani quite enjoyed this when we were younger. She said it’s more fun.”

Elena got the sense that nobody in this family quite understood a normal concept of fun, even Bela.

Regardless, Elena reluctantly shuffled off the high edge of the bed.

Though she still wore her new bracelet cuffs, they weren’t linked, allowing her to reach out and wind her arms around Bela’s shoulders. Smiling, Bela helped arrange her thighs on either side of her slim, surprisingly toned waist. Then her hands found the underside of Elena’s thighs for support, making her bite her lip at the slight press into healing wounds.

Satisfied, Bela squeezed her thigh softly, easing up when Elena gasped sharply. “Let’s go, sister.”

If any of the passing maids found it strange to see the poised and refined Lady Bela carrying Elena like a monkey on her back, all were wise enough not to point it out or be caught staring. For her part, Elena was quite convinced she was still dreaming, and just allowed herself to cling to Bela as the blonde wandered through the castle.

“You truly were quite careless,” Bela mentioned, not rudely but not entirely kindly. “You could have at least taken shoes if you were going to try to escape. Frostbite would have taken your toes before you made it halfway to that wretched village.”

Elena didn’t know what to make of being scolded for such a thing. “I will make sure to remember that next time?”

“Next time? Should I tell Mother you’re already planning your next escape?” Bela retorted, laughing softly as she felt Elena stiffen against her. “You would do well not to try again, sister. Mother’s shouting woke half the castle and the carpenter had to work through the night to replace much of the furniture. Then I had to deal with Daniela moping around thinking it was all her fault. It was rather trying.”

She winced. “I had no idea.”

“Mother’s punishment was rather light, all things considered,” Bela replied, a little firmer, sounding every bit the over-exhausted sibling who had seen her sisters reap the rewards of their own misbehavior. “I do not think she would be quite so…collected were you to try again.”

Elena did not know what to make of her punishment being called light, especially when she thought of the humiliation and suffering she had gone through. She knew the Lady had capacity for true cruelty, but the jolt of fear at the idea of a harsh punishment almost sent her spiraling back to a place where terror ruled her.

Would have, were it not for Bela sighing.

“Your thoughts are loud, sister,” Bela stated, easily hefting her higher up her back as they wandered down the flight of stairs. “Do not worry about what has not happened yet. If you behave, it will never come to pass.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not…good at behaving.”

“Neither are Daniela and Cassandra, but even they were taught the boundaries eventually,” Bela said, then her expression soured, nose wrinkling. “Unfortunately Cassandra quite enjoys the consequences of pushing them. I think her self-preservation instincts were lost during rebirth. I would recommend not letting her rope you into her antics.”

“Rebirth?” Elena asked, curious at the word she had heard a few times.

Bela hummed softly, seeming to choose her words carefully. “We came to Mother as we are now, but with no human memories. Though our rebirth was not the same as yours, there are some similarities—we were made by her hands into her daughters, with great love and pain.”

Elena digested the idea of that with difficulty. 

She wondered what the idea of love and pain suggested when one talked about the Lady. She felt she had seen much more of the former than the latter, however she knew from the Lady’s own words that her other daughters required a much ‘firmer hand’. She had seen Cassandra bloodied and limping, brutality borne by loving hands, and wondered what that said.

Elena chewed on her lip, asking a question she feared the answer to. “Did she ever…do what she does to me to you?”

Bela’s walk stuttered, barely there but unable to be covered up. “No,” Bela said eventually, clearing her throat. “You are something of a unique case.”

“I hardly feel unique,” Elena said, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from her voice. “Why do you all treat me like a child?”

“You are a child to us,” Bela said simply, finally. 

She restrained herself from wringing Bela’s neck at the instance, though the sudden squeeze of her arms tighter over her shoulders had the blonde making a warning sound beneath her, a layered buzzing sound. She forced her limbs to ease. “I just don’t understand.”

“Of course not,” Bela agreed, then said nothing else.

The cook was a salt-and-pepper haired woman named Sylvia. She had a rough demeanor and a severe frown, more focused on perfecting her dishes than anything else. Elena had found her a demanding taskmaster during service, but ultimately fair. She did not know her well, but she knew the woman was among the longest serving members of staff.

Sylvia had seen hundreds of maids come and go during her service to Castle Dimitrescu during her time and it showed. She was unflappable, cold, but not entirely unfriendly—she just kept largely to herself, except when she was barking orders like a tyrant. Many had tried to befriend her, Elena included, and all they received for their efforts was a “talk to me again if you make it five years.”

“She runs a tight ship, as you well know,” Bela said as she carried Elena down familiar halls to the kitchen, heedless of her whining. “I do not need to check on her often—she reports to me as necessary.”

Elena gave another protest. “Then why are we going to the kitchen now?”

“Because you slept through breakfast, so I must arrange a meal for you,” Bela said. “I would speak to Sylvia about your meals. I have done some reading, but I require her input.”

Elena scoffed, earning her a thigh squeeze that made her hiss. “Do I get any input?”

“Not until Mother says you do,” Bela retorted, approaching the door to the kitchen. “Until then, matters of your nutrition and dining are up to me. I wish to be well informed, so I must seek counsel when appropriate—the complexities of human nutrition are nuanced, so adequate care must be taken.”

Whatever Elena wanted to say to that, it died in her throat as Bela pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside.

The closest kitchen maid, Sorana, almost dropped a sack of tomatoes, barely catching them as she startled back with a fright. “Lady Bela! Oh, and L-Lady Elena! Good morning!”

Elena wilted under her familiar eyes, tucking her chin into Bela’s shoulder with a low whine. 

“Out, all of you,” Bela commanded into the strangled silence that had descended in the room, as all the maids had frozen in their work at the sight of the two of them. “Except you, Sylvia.”

Immediately, the kitchen was vacated, the maids practically running out of the other door. None wanted to be on the eldest Dimitrescu’s bad side, so her commands were obeyed implicitly. Elena almost felt sorry for poor Sorana, who hastily dragged the bag of tomatoes into the corner and then almost tripped on her own haste to sprint out of the door. 

“Just a moment, Lady Bela, Lady Elena,” Sylvia called into the ensuing quiet, knife working into a joint of some indistinguishable meat. “I need to ensure this one is prepared correctly.”

Elena was familiar with that tone, it said: the kitchen staff have royally fucked something up, now I’m going to have to fix it before someone gets eaten. It was a tone that had her spine stiffening on instinct, preparing herself for an entire day of dish washing and peeling potatoes until her fingers bled. 

Instinctively, she replied. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“You can’t call me that,” Sylvia abandoned her work in an instant, knife clattering to the tabletop as she rounded on her. Her face was drawn sharply, eyes darting between Elena and Bela. “With all due respect, you are a Dimitrescu, Lady Elena. You aren’t to show deference to me or any of the help around here. The only person you should be calling ‘ma’am’ is Lady Dimitrescu, and I hear she much prefers other titles from you.”

The reprimand made her recoil a little, reminding her once again of sharp lines drawn in the sand and that she stood on the other side. Then her head ducked into the curve of Bela’s neck unconsciously, shutting out the implication behind other titles. 

Bela made a noise of approval. “Listen to Sylvia, sister. She’s one of the wisest we have left.”

Embarrassed, Elena mumbled into her neck. “Yes.”

Sylvia paid her little mind as she gave up on the hunk of meat, turning to wash the blood from her hands then toweling them dry. From her side profile, Elena thought she looked deeply tired. “Right,” Sylvia turned back. “What can I do for you?”

“My sister slept through breakfast,” Bela said. “I would have you prepare something for her.”

Sylvia ceded immediately to the suggestion. “Of course, Lady Bela. Any special requests?”

Elena realized the question was directed at Bela, not her—and her lip curled at the thought of any more of the baby slop she’d been forced to eat the last few days, especially when she had been given real food the night before. 

What followed was a long, mind-numbing discussion about micronutrients and fiber that went largely above Elena’s head, suggestions for meals made and shot down at rapid speed, going backwards and forwards so often it made her feel dizzy. Eventually, she grew tired of it, squirming on Bela’s back until the blonde set her down very reluctantly on the counter. 

Legs swaying slightly, she ignored Sylvia’s distracted scowling at her new perch—the woman didn’t believe in idle hands or resting, let alone on her clean counters. Still, no one reprimanded her. Elena thought briefly about trying to get down, but thought better of it when a fly buzzed threateningly when she leaned forward, its thorax shining gold in the light.

Instead, she just sat in boredom, growing hungrier and frustrated by the delay.

Eventually, her attention drifted to a small bowl of apples set beside her. They were a sharp ruby red, surprisingly fresh looking considering it was the middle of winter. Her mouth watered a little, thinking of plăcintă cu mere and apple cake—desserts often made for the family, but never for the maids, smelling so good.

Her stomach grumbled angrily and, seeing Bela and Sylvia still embroiled in discussion, she reached out to snag one from the dish.

But perhaps some of the tea lingered, or she was just growing clumsier by day. Because instead of reaching to grab an apple from the dish, Elena’s hand swept out and knocked the entire bowl on the floor. It shattered loudly in the silence, a dozen apples scattering across the pristine floor. It rang as loud as a gunshot in her ears, and she yelped.

Her world narrowed down, staring at the carnage—it reminded her so much of the shatter of a vase on the floor, her world growing a little colder, shadows darker, a tremble coming to her hand as she sharply jerked it back to her chest.

“I—” her voice was low, small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Bela stared at her, eyes slightly wider but calculating as she reached to inspect her hands, ignoring the crunch of the shattered bowl under her boots. “Are you okay, sister?”

“I’m…okay,” Elena said after a moment, trying to still the shaking hands caught in Bela’s own. Her eyes swam for reasons she couldn’t identify, but she forced the tears back, stuffing the complex emotions somewhere deep inside. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I will bring Lady Elena some appropriate food shortly, Lady Bela,” Sylvia said slowly, eyes closed and face drawn—the carefully calm expression of a woman trying her best to not yell something that would get her killed. She practically begged, then, “Please wait for me in the dining room while I clean up in here.”

The embarrassment rose in her at the dismissal, head ducking down to stare at her hands and Bela’s. 

“Come here,” Bela interrupted her morose thoughts, tugging gently on her wrists to pull Elena into her, into a half-hug that turned into a hold when she picked her up. Despite being shorter than her mother, Bela still had more than a foot of height on Elena and it showed. “As soon as you can, Sylvia. Something warm to drink for her too.”

Sylvia inclined her head, mouth flat but forehead scrunched. “Yes, Lady Bela.”

“You’re fine,” Bela told her for the umpteenth time that day so far, carrying her through the servant’s door into the dining room. “Deep breaths.”

All said and done, Elena felt mortified.

With distance and time, she slowly came back to herself. She couldn’t figure out just why her thoughts spiraled, why one little mistake had her trembling in the wind. The exchange of voices startled her back into reality, forcing her to realize that she had been as if underwater for far too long. She startled slightly as food and a glass of warm milk was set down in front of her. The rush of awareness made her blink rapidly, throat thick.

“Thank you, Sylvia,” Bela waved the maid off. “That’s all. Return to your preparations.”

Slowly, Elena realized that she had not been set in her high chair. Instead, she registered the gentle arms around her waist and chin tucked on her head, and realized that she was sitting in Bela’s lap. It was not uncomfortable, but she couldn’t piece together when it happened or why.

Bela patted her stomach softly as she felt Elena begin to come back to life. “Are you hungry, little one?”

“Yes,” Elena admitted, flushing as her stomach growled again. Her finger buried in the hem of her dress. “I’m sorry about the apples.”

“Why?”

She blinked. “W-What do you mean?”

“Why are you sorry?” Bela replied, seeming amused by her confusion as she continued to pat her belly. “You are not a maid anymore, little one, you don’t need to startle at every small thing. Accidents happen, you can hardly blame a child for making a mess. It is my fault, I should have been more attentive.”

“I am not a child,” she retorted.

“You are, and you are my responsibility,” Bela insisted, before her voice shifted to a chiding tone. “You should ask before you try to take things. Being impulsive can put you in danger.”

The words were unfortunately true—Elena could not deny them, knowing well her impulsive, stubborn nature had gotten her into trouble in multitudes over the last few days. So, she bit her tongue. Instead, a small pit of worry formed in her gut—would she be punished, made to kneel again by the Lady? It had been an accident, but would that appease her? 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Elena pleaded, voice low.

Bela smiled, scooping a spoonful of sliced fruits and oatmeal from the bowl and holding it up for her. “It’s okay, just eat.”

Despite the familiar coil of embarrassment, Elena allowed herself to be fed, only pausing for reluctant sips of the milk. The movements were calm, careful and showed little hesitation, as if Bela had done this a million times—though she couldn’t imagine the blonde spoon feeding any of her sisters, the mental image of Daniela and Cassandra when they were young made her think of feral cats eating with hands and teeth.

Eventually, Elena refused the last few mouthfuls. “Too full.”

“One more,” Bela replied, firm, spoonful hovering at her mouth.

Her stomach was already full to capacity and she had a thought to refuse, but the tone of Bela’s voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up—it rang with the same authority as the Lady’s, as if she knew best and you did not want to disappoint her. So, very reluctantly, Elena accepted another spoonful and swallowed heavily, whining at the over-full feeling.

Bela made a pleased sound, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. “Good job, sister,” she praised, ignoring Elena’s sour expression at the praise, as if eating a bowl of oatmeal was some grand achievement. “Shall we go do something fun now?”

“What kind of fun?” she asked suspiciously.

The thread of doubt in her voice was ignored, as was her low groan when Bela picked her up.

Bela smiled, bright and excited. “I thought we might explore the greenhouse.”

Chapter Text

The greenhouse was an enormous, glass-walled building attached to the far side of the castle.

Elena had never set foot inside, the staff weren’t allowed, except the groundskeeper and one of the senior maids who sometimes served the Ladies inside. But she had heard rumors. They said it was filled to the brim with rare plants from all over the world—a significant portion of those of the poisonous and man-eating variety, allegedly.

As it turned out, the descriptions did it no justice.

“Wow,” Elena’s eyes were wide, stunned. “It’s big.”

“A stunning endorsement,” Bela replied, amused but not unkind. “It’s been expanded twice in my lifetime. Perhaps again soon, if Daniela keeps insisting on buying more plants from the Duke—half of her orders are plants and the other half books, she’s quite the hoarder.”

Elena couldn’t fault the statement, because the sheer number of plants were mind boggling.

She stared in wonder at the veritable forest of foliage, so many she had never seen before. They sat in carefully plotted rows, beds and trellises, growing large and beautifully. Everywhere she looked was shades of vibrant greens, reds, yellows and more. They reminded her of a stunning oil painting that hung in the main hall, one of open fields with rolling flowers. 

In the dead of winter, it was stunning to see such a bastion of life.

“It’s so pretty,” she said, voice softening in the quiet.

“It only gets better. This way, these are some of my favorites,” Bela said, carrying her down a long, winding fork in the wooden walkways between raised garden beds.

She walked slowly, allowing Elena’s curious eyes to drift over all the sights. Every so often, she would stop to point out particularly curious ones—like a sharp and spiny plant, which she explained was a cactus, and a strange drooping purple plant with weird tendrils which she identified as a bat flower. They were so unusual, nothing like what grew around the village.

Elena was no stranger to plants, she had been an adept hand at foraging—medicinal plants and mushrooms, things she could sell or her parents could use, mostly. But she had never seen anyone care for plants the way Bela did, with patient and passionate understanding. She explained all of the uses of the plants by rote, as if she had consumed one of the Duke’s foraging books whole.

“You must like plants a lot,” Elena mentioned as Bela identified a row of bright purple flowers, hyacinths. 

“I began with reading about grapes and horticulture methods, all in relation to the winery of course. But Daniela took interest in flowers and Cassandra in medicinal plants, usually of the more nefarious kind.” A small, fond smile came to her face as she spoke, but it quickly turned into an amused one, chin tilting up in something deliberately arrogant. “I couldn’t let myself be outdone of course, so I read more. Now, it’s something of a hobby.”

Elena observed the gleam in her eye, curious.

She got the sense that Bela’s reading wasn’t just about sibling rivalry. The warmth, the fondness as she spoke betrayed her. Elena had always been an only child, so maybe she was misreading the signals, but she wondered if Bela just wanted an excuse to bond with her siblings over something. 

She knew better than to ask though, swerving the topic. “Do you all spend a lot of time here?”

“Not as much as I’d like, most of my free time is channeled towards the staff or helping Mother with work during the busy seasons,” Bela admitted. “But there is not so much work to do for the winery during winter, so we can spend more time here then. As you know, it’s as close to the outside world as we can get.”

Elena nodded slowly, aware of the sisters’ vulnerability to the cold. “It is very nice in here—peaceful.”

“Ah, but I haven’t shown you the best part yet,” Bela said, carrying her around a corner and through to a sprawling central courtyard. “What do you think?”

Elena looked around, taking in the wrought iron benches pressed around the outside in the shadow of a variety of plants. Then, closer to the center, a large circular gazebo with a large table in the middle with seats all around—one, in particular, was large and clearly built for the Lady. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, genuinely, imagining what it would be like to spend time between the flowers.

“We have tea here often,” Bela said, smiling brightly. “Sometimes our Aunt Donna, Lord Beneviento, joins us—she’s lovely, but a bit…reclusive, so you may not meet her for a while.”

Mentally, Elena filed away the name—it brought a tickle of familiarity, but she couldn’t quite recall why. She knew who Lady Beneviento was, of course, as most of the village knew of the Lords. But the name Donna stuck with her for reasons that escaped her, though certainly she’d never heard of an Aunt Donna before.

A small thread of worry did build up inside of her. “Will I meet them? The…other Lords?”

“Eventually,” Bela said slowly, thoughtfully. “But not until Mother thinks you’re ready.”

Elena did not think she would ever be ready for that. She could barely think past the now to figure out what her future looked like, nebulous and terrifying as it was. She did not want to imagine what the Lady’s idea of ready constituted.

Catching the expression on her face, Bela smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s still much too early to think about. You’re still too young for that.”

Elena scowled, but resisted rolling her eyes with great difficulty.

The constant words like little and young and baby were forever ringing in her head these days, as frustrating as they had ever been, sparking the hot coil of anger and embarrassment in her stomach. She wondered if she ever would get used to it—then got annoyed with herself for even considering getting used to them.

Oblivious to her train of thought, Bela set her down on one of the benches, facing some peculiar plants.

Elena’s attention was stolen momentarily by them, some of the heat easing in the face of her curiosity. They were heart-shaped and open like a book, but with strange little fronds around the outside. Inside was a vivid pink color, but fading to green around the outside. Without thinking, she leaned towards them, her hand drifted out to touch one.

“Don’t touch,” Bela cautioned, gently tugging her hand away. 

Elena’s hand jerked back, startled. “Are they dangerous?”

“Dionaea muscipula, better known as a venus fly trap. Cassandra’s idea of a joke,” Bela said, long-suffering rather than worried. “They won’t harm you, but they are fragile—when it senses prey, usually insects, it closes up and digests them for food. If you touch one, it will close up and waste the energy, which can cause the plant to die.”

She stared at it, incredulous. “That is one fucked up plant.”

“Language, sister. But yes, it is,” Bela cackled, eyes crinkling with her laughter. “Cassandra was in a mood a few years ago and thought they were the perfect gifts for Daniela and I. We learned what they ate the hard way. As you can imagine, Mother was thrilled with her.”

Elena winced. “Was she punished?”

“Extensively,” Bela answered, lip quirked in memory as she gazed down at the little plants. “She found it hilarious anyway, and we kept the plants—they are rather good at pest control.”

All the stories Bela told were surreal, and Elena hated them as much as they intrigued her. Because each one somehow humanized the daughters, whom she had previously seen only as distant and ruthless employers, then as threatening variables. She did not want to think about Daniela’s interest in flowers, or Cassandra pulling relatively harmless pranks, or of Bela’s fond smile as she spoke of them.

Each story sowed horrible, tangling threads of emotion in her chest.

She did not get to dwell on it overly much, though, as a voice interrupted her internal monologue.

“Sisters!”

A coil of buzzing flies formed quickly into a grinning face, Daniela’s eyes bright and mouth stained with crimson. She stood beside them, both Bela and Elena’s attention snapping to her, whirling around on the bench to regard her. She looked frenetic, halfway feral as she stared Elena down.

“Bela,” Daniela called, voice high and lilting, bloodied hand extending towards Elena. “You brought the baby here?”

Flinching under the intensity of the other redhead’s gaze, Elena felt rather like the fly about to be caught in the trap. She couldn’t even find it in herself to react to being called a baby. Instead, she just cringed as she waited for the filthy hand to make contact.

But instead, Bela swarmed to stand defensively in front of her, a low buzzing rumble falling from her as she gazed at Daniela. “She is mine right now, sister,” she hissed, voice lower than it had been a moment before, making all of the hair on the back of Elena’s neck raise. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Immediately, Daniela balked, hand falling to her side to fist in her dark dress. “But Bela,” she whined, the tone of a spoiled little sister, matched by the frustrated stomp of her foot. “I want to spend time with her too! It’s not fair!”

“You will only scare her like that, Dani,” Bela said, reaching out to grab Daniela’s hand and dragging it close to her face so she could get a whiff of the blood on her hands—it was fresh and sticky red. Elena stared when the eldest’s tongue lapped at it thoughtfully. “Besides, it seems you’ve already had your fun, sister. I liked Magda.”

The redhead’s pout disappeared quickly, giggling when Bela licked her hand like a cat. “She’s fine. I just had a little taste. Now she won’t run her mouth again.”

Bela dropped Daniela’s hand, eyes narrowed but sighing. “If you want to spend time with us, go clean yourself up—face and hands, Daniela. With soap!”

“Yes!” Daniela visibly hazed with excitement again, unable to hold her form fully. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere!”

Then she was gone, flying away to parts unknown.

Bela sighed, raking a hand through her hair as she watched her go, before she turned to Elena. “I’m sorry, sister, it seems our private time is going to be interrupted by a pest.”

“Well, that’s just rude. You haven’t even said hello to me yet.”

The two of them stiffened at another new voice.

Cassandra peered at them from behind the obscuring leaves of a heavy monstera, which she patted with an affectionate hand. However, her eyes were keen as a hunting hound’s. She bore none of the violence Elena had seen on her the night before, a noticeable spring in her step as she advanced. She was smirking as she approached them.

“Cassandra,” Bela audibly groaned, running her hand down her face. “You’re not supposed to be around Elena.”

The brunette hummed innocently. “I just came to enjoy the greenhouse, sister. How am I responsible for the whims of fate bringing us all here?”

“You’ll end up in the cellar again,” Bela said pointedly.

Cassandra just gave a loud, theatrical yawn.

And Elena—

She buried her hands in the hem of her dress, overwhelmed and struggling to keep up with the emotional whiplash of the three daughters one after another. Dinner was one thing, but stumbling upon them in the wild was something that sent her inner maid into fight or flight mode—six months of getting into the habit of avoiding their presence for fear of death would leave a lasting impression, after all.

“Fine,” Bela growled, settling primly on the bench next to Elena, a little too close. “But don’t even think about coming within six feet of her—Mother will have your head.”

Cassandra just smiled infuriatingly at them. “Aw, you’re all fired up for the little one. How cute.”

Bela’s voice was sharp, tone harder than any she had used with Elena. “Cassandra.”

“Yes, yes, Bela,” Cassandra waved her off, slumping on the floor precisely six feet away, legs tucked up and chin propped up by her hand. Her eyes remained on Elena, though, ignoring Bela’s bristling. “You look better, baby sister.”

Elena floundered for what to say, caught up in the return of a more playful Cassandra versus the soft-handed one that had massaged her aches and pains away the night before, disarmingly affectionate. She wanted to scowl at her, but instead settled for a suspicious frown. “I’m…good?”

“And so verbose,” Cassandra snickered, voice slipping back into that flirtatious register. “Has Bela been taking care of you?”

She wasn’t oblivious to the implication in the words, her and Bela wearing matching scowls.

She could never quite understand Cassandra’s angle—whether she was flirty for the sake of being flirty, or for knowing it made Elena uncomfortable, or if there was some genuine thread of intent in it. The thoughts made her anxious, so she forced it out of her brain with difficulty.

Her answer was short, cagey. “We had breakfast.”

If she was at all inclined to share the incident with anyone, it certainly would not be Cassandra—and Bela did not speak up regarding the smashed bowl either, only staring aggressively at her sister, emboldening Elena’s reply.

“I did hear some very interesting gossip in the halls on my way over,” Cassandra replied, expression knowing. Her lips quirked, but there was something feral about it—no blood between her teeth, but it was the self-satisfied expression she only got through violence. “Dani made quite the mess of the little maid and their loose tongue though, it was quite the spectacle.”

Bela hissed out a long, testy sigh. “And you did not think to stop her?”

“And spoil our little sister’s efforts? That would be awfully rude of me, Bela,” Cassandra chortled. A hard gleam came to her eye, a familiar heat that Elena had seen at the dinner table—moments before she smashed Mălina’s face into it with blazing, protective fury. “Besides, she deserved it.”

At that, Bela relaxed infinitesimally, though the frustrated air was still about her. “Will she still be of use?”

“Only if she needs her tongue to do her job,” Cassandra replied, preening at her sister’s growing exasperation. She flapped her other hand, waving away the concerns. “Roxana’s sorting the staff out, sister. I wouldn’t dream of stealing you away from the little one so soon to sort out boring staff rotations.”

Bela seemed a little surprised by that but also a little pleased. Elena wasn’t oblivious to the way the eldest leaned slightly into her, like Elena’s body heat was pulling her into her orbit. “Good.”

But Cassandra’s smile only grew, as did the prickle of anxiety in Elena’s chest when her attention shifted back to her. “Unless,” she continued as if Bela had never spoken, eyes hot and promising, “you’re ready to spend time with your superior big sister?”

Elena felt Bella stiffen next to her, the buzzing like a million wings beneath her skin.

“Superior?”

If she had learned anything, it was that the Dimitrescu family were made up of territorial, hierarchical creatures. They embraced their pointless titles built on order of birth, strength and perceived power. So Elena’s heart began to beat double time when Bela swarmed off the bench beside her, standing tall and tense, like a vengeful spirit made corporeal.

Cassandra seemed to have no interest in the eldest, and if her position on the floor might have been perceived in any way as submissive, lesser, the quiet smile on her face wiped it away. It was the expression of challenge—of a beast who willfully stepped beyond the borders, to try to claim another’s territory as their own.

Elena sat pinned under her dark stare, behind the cover of Bela’s body, and knew startlingly that she was the territory—the possession.

“I hope she hasn’t bored you,” Cassandra continued, eyes for Elena only. “Bela’s not as fun as I am, right? If Mother had left you with me, I would have shown you something exciting.”

Resolutely, she did not want to know what Cassandra found exciting—blades and blood and bodily harm, she was certain.

Bela shared her thoughts, apparently, dropping an aggressive snarl. A few flies crawled from her wrist, buzzing loudly in the air around them. “Your idea of excitement would give her nightmares, Cassandra.”

Her tone was terse, warning—red flags and alarm bells.

Elena pulled into herself tighter, arms hugging around herself as she watched two predators posture.

“I do love keeping good girls up all night,” Cassandra retorted heatedly, eyes lidding like a lazy cat’s as they met Elena’s own. Amusement danced in them, but something deeper too. She snapped her teeth slightly. “Although bad girls are even more fun.”

Bela’s growl layered, growing further as more flies began to drift in angry patterns in the air. “Cassandra.”

Elena felt the sound in her bones, rumbling like an angry dog over a bone moments before it tried to snap at the hand trying to take it. It made her limbs lock out of fear, skin prickling with awareness, something primal in the back of her head wanting to bare its throat. As she was reminded that for all of her soft touches, Bela was very much her mother’s daughter. 

“I’ll steal you away if you ask nicely,” Cassandra continued, undeterred, ignoring the warning. “Would you like to play with me, little one?”

That was it.

Elena felt the change in the air, the way the word play hit Bela’s consciousness and rippled through her body; muscles stiffening, teeth bared, flies beginning to peel away as she surged forward.

Cassandra swarmed away with a deep cackle, just in time for the sickle that materialized to slice harmlessly through the cloud.

With a shout of frustration, Bela swarmed after her. 

Elena did not have time to fully process the flash of blades between clouds of flies, the snarls and the cackles, before a very unwelcome intrusion made her jerk sharply and freeze once again in her seat.

Daniela returned in a burst of flies, settling into the vacated spot beside Elena and clapping her clean hands in excitement. Her face was wet, water dripping down her collar—like she’d plunged her face into the sink to clean it. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Elena stared, eyes wide as Bela tried to slice Cassandra’s head off, only for the blade to be countered in a rain of sparks. “Shouldn’t you stop them?”

“Why?” Daniela asked, looking almost envious. “I’ve got my money on Cassie.”

Despite herself, that surprised her enough to turn her head back to Daniela—who was watching the fight with great interest, cheering when Bela reached into the cloud of flies and somehow yanked Cassandra’s form back into being by her hair.

Elena blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Bela’s really mad,” Daniela grinned. “But Cassie fights dirty.”

Sure enough, a fistful of dirt was thrown in Bela’s face, making her release Cassandra on instinct as she sputtered to wipe it away. Then, seizing the lapse in her guard, the brunette swarmed back over her older sister. One hand grasped Bela by the back of her head, tilting her neck up, the other hooked the sickle sharply at her throat and tried to slice.

The blonde shrieked, dispersing into her own swarm and reappearing feet away, rage painted across her every pore.

“I am going to drag you to the cellar myself,” Bela screeched, the usual calm demeanor giving way to a beast made material beneath her skin, eyes dark and mouth stretched in a too-wide snarl.

Elena stared in wide-eyed terror as they clashed again. “They’re going to kill each other!”

“Only a little,” Daniela said, leaning over heavily to flop into Elena’s unguarded lap and watch with interest, ignoring the stiff-limbed panic of the girl beneath her. She cheered when Bela knocked Cassandra’s sickle from her hand, clattering loudly on the floor. “Get her, Cassie!”

Bela let out a horrible, feral noise—the righteous anger of an older sister who was very much pissed the hell off by being ganged up on. 

“Daniela,” Bela growled, swinging her blade through Cassandra’s chest, who just swarmed around the blow with an unhinged laugh. “Don’t encourage her. And get off of Elena!”

Elena startled at her name, sitting up straighter.

Daniela just giggled, reaching up for Elena’s hand and coaxing it into her hair, until the younger girl began to awkwardly pet her head like a giant cat. The long soft strands contrasted with the bristle of the undercut.

Her nails caught a ridge of scar tissue close to the scalp, and Elena stiffened as Daniela let out a low, shuddery moan and melted into her. “Oh.”

Abruptly, Bela’s head reeled back to them, freezing mid-assault. 

Cassandra capitalized on the mistake, knocking the sickle out of her hands and then kicking the back of her knee out until she collapsed forward. She caught Bela’s hair on the way down, yanking her back so they could glare at each other.

“Don’t get distracted now, sister,” Cassandra purred, voice dark, throaty. 

The response was a furiously buzzing swarm, melting out of her hold and surrounding Cassandra’s back. The brunette cackled as the bugs bit at her skin, not even trying to swat them away, even as thick black blood ran down bites on her cheek and neck. “Oh,” Cassandra shuddered, tone matching Daniela’s, “I do love it when you lose control.”

The answer was more vicious bites, blackened blood oozing all over and running into her dark dress. 

A few of Cassandra’s flies peeled off of her skin where Bela’s nipped, tangling with her sister’s in midair—drones on either side falling to the ground, twitching. The brunette turned, reaching through the swarm like Bela had done and yanking.

“I love you, sister,” Cassandra said affectionately, bringing them nose-to-nose as she stared up into Bela’s blackened eyes. 

The blonde snarled back.

Then, smiling and utterly unrepentant, Cassandra slammed her forehead forward until it met Bela’s nose with a crack.

Elena squeezed her eyes shut, cringing away as the eldest swore and thick black blood poured down the front of Bela’s dress. The force of the blow rattled through her, as if she had been struck. She hardly paid any attention to Daniela, who whined in her lap when her hand stilled in her hair. Instead, she channeled all her energy into not throwing up on the spot.

The resulting tussle was worse, as Bela and Cassandra gave up on their swarm and just descended into a pile of claws, teeth and pulled hair. The sort of lethal catfight that only sisters could have, except much, much more violent.

“Are they really going to kill each other?” Elena whispered, green around the edges and trembling to the soles of her feet—she wanted to run far, far away from the ferocious violence of it all, the scent of blood and dominance heady in the air.

Daniela grinned like she was the fool to be worried. “They won’t die.”

That did not make her feel remotely better.

The fight continued, bulldozing a couple of plants and spilling dirt everywhere. At one point, Bela pressed Cassandra into the dirt head first and sunk her teeth deep into the younger sister’s throat—only to release her in disgust when a high, throaty moan burst out of her. Which Cassandra then used to her advantage to headbutt her again, then toss her sister over her shoulder and rub her own face in the dirt like a naughty dog.

The mess would have continued, were it not for Lady Dimitrescu stepping into the ring.

“Girls,” Alcina bit out. “That is quite enough.”

The two girls froze, mid-assault.

Cassandra pulled her teeth away from her sister’s arm, blackened blood around her mouth. Flies coated her own arms, already repairing the holes all over her—though unable to fix the holes in her dress or the blood soaking it. In exchange, Bela slowly released the fist wrapped tight around her younger sister’s hair, hurriedly wiping blood off her own face. Her nose had already set back, but she couldn’t hide how filthy she was.

Undeterred, Daniela booed. “Mother, you interrupted the best part!”

Bela made a show of smoothing her hair down and adjusting her ruffled dress, as if it would hide her state. “Good morning, Mother.”

Cassandra wisely said nothing.

Golden eyes sliced across the two of them, hard and unforgiving. “Need I remind you of the dangers of roughhousing in the greenhouse?”

The two daughters dipped their heads down, wincing. “No, Mother,” they echoed together.

Daniela snickered at the display, sitting up so she could whisper into Elena’s ear. “They’re in trouble.”

“You are supposed to be a good influence, Bela. I expected better of you,” the Lady snapped, teeth bared as she stared down at her eldest—the child she usually held in such high regard, now blood-covered and grimy as a beggar. “You have disappointed me.”

Bela flinched as if struck. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Ignoring her, the Lady turned her eyes to Cassandra, condemning. “And you are not supposed to be anywhere near your baby sister without me present.”

Cassandra grimaced, but stubbornly held her mother’s eyes. “Bela said I could—”

“That’s not what I said—”

“Silence!”

The two girls ducked their heads under her attention.

The Lady continued, an angry rumble in her tone. “I trusted you all to behave around your little sister, to set good examples. Would anyone care to explain to me why you are fighting in front of her like beasts?”

Elena was surprised when both girls fell silent, stubbornly holding their tongues and turning their heads away from the Lady and each other. She half expected them to start trying to accuse each other, but instead—nobody breathed a word, not even Daniela. They just suffered the long, terse silence, unwilling to break rank.

When nobody spoke, the Lady grew visibly more irritated, lips pulling into a scowl. “Well?”

She surprised herself with her own complacent silence, even when the Lady’s glowing eyes passed over her.

Elena expected both girls to be dragged kicking and screaming down to the cellar for some nebulous punishment that would have them returning blood-stained and limping. She expected the return of the angry, feral creature the Lady could become, to press that physical weight of her emotions down on them and make them bare their throats in obedience.

The sisters received neither, instead Alcina reached down to pick them both up by the hoods of their dresses like naughty cats, bringing both to eye level with a low rumble in her throat—the two rumbling back, eyes wide open. A long, wordless exchange passed between the three of them. Eventually, shoulders slumped and throats were bared. Only then were they dropped safely to their feet.

Instead, the Lady let out a long, frustrated sigh. “What am I to do with you, girls?”

Though Bela had her head ducked like a chastened child, Cassandra had come alive once again with a cheeky grin—the contrast between the responsible eldest, unused to being in her mother’s bad books, and the trouble-making middle child, who almost never left them. “You could join us for tea, Mother?”

Daniela perked up with interest at Cassandra’s words. “Oh, please, Mother! We haven’t had tea together in forever!”

“If you have finished your work for the day, Mother,” Bela said slowly, quietly—and Elena was struck by how young she looked in that moment, scolded, nervous to seek out her mother’s approval once again. “Perhaps tea would be nice?”

The Lady visibly softened under the pleading eyes of her daughters. “Well, how could I possibly say no to such sweet requests from my darling daughters?”

The girls all brightened, even Daniela swarming out of Elena’s lap with an excited shout.

Only for them to swiftly groan when the Lady smiled, not at all nice, and swept her hand over the trail of destruction. “But first, I expect you to clean all of this up.”

Elena found herself carried in the Lady’s arms to the tea table, then seated in her lap.

If asked, she resolved not to tell anyone that she felt comfort in the hold—her nerves were still raw, jumpy from the violence and the snarls, and there was no safer place to be than in the arms of the most powerful woman in the house.

Daniela joined them at the table, vibrating with pleasure at being given the ‘best seat’ at her Mother’s right hand side; an upgrade which had Bela staring in displeasure until the Lady snapped at her to continue cleaning up. Apparently not being involved in the brawl had skyrocketed Daniela’s value in the Lady’s eyes, or rather downgraded Bela and Cassandra’s. 

“I missed you, my love,” Alcina said to Elena, pressing her lips to the crown of her head. “Have you been good?”

She was struggling to find words, the violence and lack of punishment sitting like a stone in her stomach. Elena tried to say something, but her mouth refused to move, to pick distinct words out of the tangled web of her thoughts. Instead, she just settled on a quiet mmhm.

“I hope your sisters didn’t scare you too much,” the Lady said, tucking her sideways instead so she could peer more closely into Elena’s eyes. Her hand ran up and down her back, soothing, as if she was a bristling cat. “Though I don’t approve of them fighting in here, these things do sometimes happen. I fear having something new dangled before my sweet girls has lit a fire in them, not seen since they were much younger. Isn’t that right, Daniela?”

The redhead tittered, ignoring the ire-filled glares directed at her as the two other sisters continued to sweep dirt and pick up crushed plants. “We used to fight all the time. But it got boring after a while. Then we started hunting maids instead!”

The Lady cleared her throat—perhaps regretting letting Daniela speak when she felt the girl in her arms stiffen. “We are territorial, possessive creatures by nature. You know this, do you not?”

Elena forced herself to give a jerky nod.

“My girls, sweet as they are, are not immune to it. I cannot hold their actions fully against them, they are what they were made,” Alcina said, words carefully considered and entirely confusing, for Elena still did not know truly what they were. “Occasionally, the need to reassert one’s position can become overwhelming, so I forgive their little spats. Though they usually do a much better job at squabbling without damaging my property.”

Cassandra and Bela, working together now to right a toppled iron bench, both had the decency to look embarrassed.

“That said, you were never in danger—they would not dare hurt one so precious. Do you understand?”

Daniela nodded excitedly, eyes bright and slightly feral. “I would’ve protected you!”

Elena just chewed nervously at her bottom lip, said nothing.

“That’s a bad habit, dearest,” Alcina thumb gently tugged Elena’s lip from between her teeth, soothing over the indents. “I would like to hear you answer me.”

It took a moment to gather her thoughts, but she croaked a soft reply. “I understand, Mommy.”

“My smart girl.” Lips ghosted against her forehead. “Now, are you going to be good for me during tea time?”

Elena had a visceral reaction to the word tea, a flood of anxiety and tingling in her limbs—would she be made to drink it now? Worse still, would she be forced to drink it from the bottle again? Was this another elaborate scheme to humiliate her?

Catching sight of the burgeoning panic on her face, Alcina was quick to reassure her. “Now, now,” she drawled, reaching up to run a hand through Elena’s messy red waves. “It will be perfectly normal tea. Chamomile for you, I think—it is rather calming.”

Her nose scrunched. “I don’t want it.”

Her answer was an amused, if somewhat warning smile. “What have I said about wants and needs, baby?”

The pet name was a deliberate choice designed to reinforce their roles, and they all knew it. 

Elena huffed, voice coming out petulant. “I don’t like tea.”

The forced consumption had made her dislike worse, turning it to hatred—medicinal or no, it didn’t matter, the thought of it turned her stomach. Elena would rather have water, or even nothing. Anything was better than stupid boiled leaf water.

In the face of her stubbornness, Elena expected the Lady to puff up and make more threats, force the division more clearly between them in the way she often did. But instead, a dangerous gleam came to her eyes, a sort of ill-intent that made the hair on the back of Elena’s neck stand up.

“I suppose Mommy can be generous with you,” Alcina said slowly, the words strung out like she was puzzling something together. The tone raking over the raw edges of Elena’s anxieties. “I did procure a few special treats for my sweet little one from the Duke today.”

Daniela perked up with interest, stampeding through the moment. “Did you get anything for me, Mother?”

“He kindly informed me you had already ordered a great number of things, Daniela, darling,” the Lady said, attention dividing to her other daughter. “Do you truly need another gift?”

The redhead grinned, every inch the spoiled former youngest. “Yes!”

“Mother may have purchased something for you,” Alcina admitted, lip quirked at her daughter’s excitement. She tapped her cheek pointedly.

Immediately, the redhead surged upward to press a sweet kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Please, Mother! What did you get me?”

A satisfied expression came to the Lady’s face. “You will see. I have asked the maids to deliver it to the library for you.”

“I love you, Mother!” Daniela said, hazing with the force of her exhilaration. “I’m so excited!”

The Lady held her down with practice, large hand reaching out to press the literally floating girl back into her seat, an indulgent smile on her face. “You may have it after tea time, darling. For now, I would like you to be patient and sit with the little one and I.”

“Yes, Mother! Thank you, Mother!”

Alcina turned her attention back to Elena, lip quirked. “Now, little one—would you care for a treat?”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the unfortunate reality was that Elena had always been curious—often to her own detriment. “What is it?” she asked slowly, echoing Daniela’s sentiment with a spoonful more of doubt.

The Lady pinched her cheek slightly, her smile enhancing the fine wrinkles on her face. “Mommy very kindly procured some of the finest hot chocolate available, just for my sweet little girl. Would you care for some?”

Elena brightened immediately, then realized what she’d done tried to wipe the traitorous expression off her face.

The amused tilt to the Lady’s smile assured her that it had been noticed. 

She knew it was a dangerous game to show genuine excitement with the Lady and her daughters—it was all fuel to the fire, material to be cataloged and used against her later. But the truth was: hot chocolate held memories of home and warmth, a time she longed desperately for. 

Hot chocolate was far too expensive, it had to be imported, which meant markups that made the average household balk. Most children grew up on tea, if they were lucky. But her parents had scraped and saved, rationing a small tin of it for special occasions, birthdays and holidays—halcyon days that made her heart warm.

Just for a moment, she was a girl made of mourning, heart gored open with grief once again.

Elena nodded, too quickly—then stopped, cleared her throat, trying for a moderate tone. “Yes, please, Mommy.”

The Lady smiled again, but it held a familiar edge. “Come to Mommy, then.”

Elena, sitting in her lap, cocked her head in confusion.

Daniela giggled next to her, eyes sparkling when Elena caught her gaze. 

“Here, little one,” the Lady slowly, purposefully tapped her cheek; the same place Daniela had just—

Oh.

Elena knew, then, what the price was.

Her thoughts raced once more, fear and embarrassment and anxiety and yearning—

Before she could think better of it, she leaned painfully upward and pressed a quick kiss to the Lady’s cheek. 

Elena could feel the Lady’s pleasure as she sank back down, feel the way she rumbled like a big cat presented with its favorite meal. The arms around her tightened slightly, pulling her closer into the Lady’s gravity. “Sweet girl,” Alcina purred. “What am I to do with you?”

Despite the way her hands were coiled nervously in her dress, Elena felt brave enough to ask. “Give me hot chocolate?”

The Lady leaned down, pressing a soft kiss in return to her cheek. “As you command, darling.”

Elena sat to the left of the Lady, thankfully free of her lap for once.

It was an affront which Bela and Cassandra, now clean and perched on the opposite side of the table, seemed quite annoyed about—eyes dancing between Elena, a grinning Daniela, and the stern-faced Lady. The two youngest being in their seats clearly rubbed them the wrong way.

“Now, girls,” Alcina said, once beverages and snacks had been served, catching the heated looks across the table with a reproachful one of her own. “I do not want a repeat of today. If you are going to fight, do so privately. Otherwise you will be setting up residence in the cellar for the foreseeable future. Do I make myself clear?”

Bela seemed chagrined at that, head ducking to stare down at herself in her tea cup. “Yes, Mother.”

Cassandra took an obnoxiously loud slurp of her boiling tea, then she set it down and gave a jaunty grin at her mother’s exasperated face. “Of course, Mother.”

The Lady hummed, eyes tight, as if she did not quite believe them. Highly likely where Cassandra was concerned.

Elena paid the family little mind, her attention focused solely on the sweet and reassuring aroma from the mug in front of her. She was pleased that it was a real mug, taller around the sides than the tea cups—not a bottle or some other childish vessel. And it was full of liquid gold, warm but not too hot, topped with thickly whipped cream.

She picked the mug up a little too eagerly, rattling dishes and elbows on the table.

It tasted like heaven, richer and sweeter than anything she had ever tasted. The cream sang across her tongue, and she was pretty sure she moaned indecently as she drank it. It did not taste like the home she remembered, but it was warm and wonderful and made her eyes slip closed in memories all the same—her mother’s gentle laugh, her father’s gruff smile, flowers on her birthday, hot chocolate on a winter night.

Slowly she opened her eyes, smiling and heart bursting.

In the ensuing silence, she registered the staring.

The Lady reached out with a handkerchief to wipe cream from her nose and lips with a long-suffering sigh, but her eyes were not on Elena—they were cataloging the reactions of her three eldest daughters. “We will be working on her manners in due course, girls.”

The words did not ease the intensity of their looks. Daniela in particular was whining lowly, lip caught between her teeth and hands fisted in the tablecloth. 

“Daniela, darling,” Alcina called, a little sharp. “Drink your tea.”

Slowly, jerkily, Daniela released the shredded ends of the tablecloth and reached out to pick her tea cup up. The crimson-tinged liquid within sloshed, some spilling over the edge and staining the white cloth red. It splattered down her chin and the front of her dress, but she didn’t react. Her eyes still burned over the rim.

The Lady sighed, eyeing the shredded and stained cloth with resignation. “I suppose we must work on your table manners, too.”

Cassandra laughed, low and throaty, only to fall silent under the Lady’s heavy gaze.

Bela did not react to any of it, back straight and shoulders level as she moved her eyes to look anywhere but at Elena. She took a slow, sedate sip of her tea and moved like a noble statue. Her ears were slightly pink.

“I take it the purchase was well worth it, then,” Alcina said, once she was satisfied, eyes shifting back to Elena. “Does it please you, dragă?”

She paused guiltily, the mug halfway back to her mouth. “Yes, I—it’s very good, thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, little one,” the Lady preened, reaching out to tug gently on a strand of hair close to her ear. “Though do try to withhold the moans, if you would. Your sisters are rather…easily distracted.”

She flushed to the tip of her toes, wishing the earth would swallow her whole.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Elena’s hot chocolate mug regretfully ran dry.

This was accepted with minimal grace and zero table manners, as she spent far too long trying to chase the last dregs from the mug and mostly succeeding in smearing it on her face. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the Lady, who shook her head and forced her to hold still as she scrubbed her face clean with a handkerchief. 

“You truly are a child, constantly making a mess of yourself,” Alcina sighed, good-humored, as Elena whined at the rough treatment. “You’re as bad as your sister.”

And it was embarrassing, especially as Daniela loudly giggled—perhaps overlooking or just not caring that it was her the Lady was insulting, it was hard to tell with her. But the feeling was tempered by pleasant, happy memories melting like chocolate on the back of her tongue.

Content with her cleanliness for the moment, the Lady patted her on the cheek and then turned back to engage her daughters in conversation.

The discussion was surprisingly sanitized, sparing any gruesome details for her sake. Instead, they spoke of matters of wine, research, books they had read and paintings they were working on. It was disarmingly boring, going largely over her head. She let it wash over her like white noise, feet swinging absently under the table as she languished in the luxury of being ignored. 

Not overly hungry but slave to a sweet tooth, she examined the snack selection.

There were small tea sandwiches with layered meats and salad, which she avoided entirely out of fear of unknown meat. There were also scones with small dishes of marmalade and butter, which she ignored. Finally, her eyes alighted on an assortment of goodies—sugar cookies, rich pastries, slices of lemon cake. 

Her mouth watered with temptation, but she hesitated to reach out.

The Lady was not paying her any mind, caught up in conversation with Daniela, who was trying to wheedle some more information about her ‘gift’. Her eyes wandered between the spread and the empty plate in front of her, debating. Elena didn’t know if she was allowed to serve herself, didn’t want to provoke her ire—

She jolted when a hand snatched her plate.  

Confused, she watched as it was piled high with pastries, cookies and cake. Then, it was set back in front of her.

Her eyes darted over, but Cassandra pointedly ignored her, eyes on Daniela as she gestured wildly.

Elena picked up a sugar cookie, biting into it with gusto.

The sweet treats reminded her of when she had first arrived at the castle, whip-thin and hungry around the eyes. Between washing dishes and chopping vegetables, the older maids used to ply her with ‘special treats’ or ‘burned’ batches, a ruse just to fatten her up. Though it had only been six months, she grew to consider them friends, almost family, up until recently—

The ferocious, raw edge to her thoughts was still there, stalking like a hungry beast in the shadows under the table. But for the first time in many days, with sweetness on her tongue and the warmth of the greenhouse soaking into her bones, she chose to pull the tablecloth over those thoughts and let them rest. 

She shoved a pastry in her mouth whole in recompense.

At the end of their impromptu tea party, Elena was unsurprised when the Lady lifted her out of her chair.

Daniela had buzzed off like a crow after something shiny, excited to see what the promise of a gift held. Cassandra had disappeared off to do whatever it was she did, presumably spend time in the cellar or bothering maids. And Bela, the responsible one, had gone off to do her own work. So, it left herself and the Lady once again. 

She squirmed in discomfort as she was settled on her hip. Her stomach was too-full, a mixture of hot chocolate and a disgusting number of snacks. Elena only stopped whining when she was shifted, curled up like a baby in the Lady’s arms instead—and for once, too full to fight the feeling, just allowed herself to languish there. 

“Greedy little thing, I suppose you don’t need lunch then,” Alcina laughed, but there was nothing mean in it. She seemed overly pleased. “You look happy, sweet girl. Did you have fun?”

Elena said nothing in the face of that, unable to deny it but not wanting to give her the satisfaction. 

But the Lady kept staring at her with expectant eyes, waiting for her review.

So she reluctantly succumbed. “…The food was good.”

The Lady laughed, louder than she had in a while—louder than she could recall, startling and genuine in its clarity. It was a sound at home, comfortable, booming in the quiet castle. “Little mouse,” she chuckled fondly. “If only I had known you had such a sweet tooth…”

Ordinarily that edge in her voice would have sent Elena spiraling.

But, stomach laden and somewhat sleepy, she just closed her eyes. If she listened close, she could hear the Lady’s steady heart beating. No mere vampire indeed.

“You may recall,” the Lady said eventually, breaking the silence that fell between them as she climbed the stairs to her wing. “I procured a few items from the Duke today. Would you like to see what Mommy prepared for you?”

With the Lady, the unknown represented danger, variables to their routine.

But they both knew the choice was an illusion—if the Lady wanted to present something to her, she would do so no matter what anyone else’s thoughts were on the matter. And if it was humiliating? Well, Elena either accepted it complicity, or the Lady punished her and forced her to accept it anyway.

Elena’s eyes opened, suspicious, trying to read the lines on the Lady’s face—and finding only a coy smile.

“Fine.”

The response was a pleased hum. “Smart girl.”

The Lady’s wing was the largest in the castle, but much of it had been sealed off over the decades.

To be fair, much of the castle itself had been sealed off—even with the steady supply of servants and a foreseeable eternity in residence, there were only so many rooms that the four women of the household would need. So, many rooms were locked off or boarded over, collecting dust over the decades.

For this reason, Elena was understandably surprised when she was not returned to the Lady’s bedchambers. Instead, she was carried across the hall to a door that bore the familiar Dimitrescu sigil, set in ornate and expensive filigree—the sort that could only be opened by the key the Ladies possessed. It marked the door of importance, though she had never heard of the room being in use.

The Lady unlocked the door with a shining key, then stooped inside.

And whatever Elena may have expected—

The reality was worse.

“This is my gift to you, sweet girl,” Alcina said, smiling at her stunned silence as she presented the room to Elena like a shiny prize. “Mommy has spared no expense in preparing it for you.”

The room was big, lit by soft warm lamps and a roaring fire. A canopy bed sat in one corner, low railings around the sides, as if to keep an errant child from tumbling off the edge in their sleep. Near it was a bookshelf and a desk covered in orderly art supplies. Lastly, in the corner, there was a section of softly padded floor and rugs surrounded by interlocking wooden gates, containing an absolutely astonishing number of toys.

It was a child’s room.

Elena froze in the Lady’s arms, wide eyes scanning from left to right, dizzy as she took it all in. “What is this…?”

“Surely Mommy can’t keep you locked away in her room forever,” Alcina replied, closing the door behind her and locking it. She had a peculiar smile on her face, almost proud, as if it was all perfectly normal. “Even pets require enrichment, darling. I can’t have my daughter idling in bed all day waiting for Mommy to entertain her, much as I do adore you.”

She still sputtered, struggling to form coherent thoughts. “No. I’m not a child.”

Ignoring her protests, the Lady carried her close to the fire. There was a rocking chair set beside it, much too large for Elena, but the perfect size for the Lady to settle in. “You have been a very good girl today,” Alcina advised, arranging Elena across her thighs, peering carefully down into wide eyes. “Are you going to ruin it?”

Elena ducked her head, chewing at her lip as her thoughts raced.

She knew what the Lady wanted from her.

But how much could she be forced to give up? To accept the room as hers was to accept the role that the Lady kept pushing her into, to accept the delusion. Could she accept another boundary breached? Could she allow another wall to be broken? How many times could she be pushed down before she stopped trying to drag herself back up again?

Elena felt awfully like a cat on its ninth life, claws dug in as it hung from a precipice over a deep chasm. Could she land on her feet if she let go? Or would the Lady be waiting at the bottom to drown her with intent, to reshape the bones of her into something new?

“Is Mommy’s gesture wasted on her ungrateful little girl?” Alcina coaxed after a long silence. She pried Elena’s teeth from her lip with her thumb, then forced her to open her mouth. “Speak, little mouse.”

At that, Elena shrunk.

Perhaps she was not the cat hung over a ledge, but rather the foolish little mouse, dangling above open jaws.

“No, Mommy,” Elena whispered in defeat. 

Alcina’s answering smile was too sharp. “Then what do you say, child?”

The ease Elena had felt earlier that day was long gone. Instead, something terrible had clawed open her ribcage and climbed inside, carving into any lingering softness and devouring it as penance. “I’m sorry,” the words croaked out of her unwilling throat. “Thank you, Mommy.”

The Lady let go of her jaw. “I do not appreciate having my kindness thrown in my face,” she said, pulling Elena closer until her ear rested against the Lady’s chest, listening to the steady thud of her heart. “This is not a punishment.”

It very much felt like one, but she dare not say that out loud.

Elena’s skin burned hot and cold, heart racing like she had run a marathon. Her breathing was coming a little too quick now.

“This is a safe space for you, little one.” Alcina’s words rumbled through them both. “I want you to feel at home in this room. It is yours.”

Elena wanted to scoff, but the sound died in her chest as the Lady held her tighter still. The hold was uncomfortably tight, domineering. It was as if she wanted to physically imprint her presence onto Elena’s body, so her words could sink deep inside and take root. She tried to protest the treatment, but was ignored.

Her throat constricted tightly, voice muffled from where it was pushed into the soft skin of the Lady’s breasts. “Am I going to stay here now?”

“Of course not,” Alcina answered immediately—and Elena did not know whether to be relieved or distraught. She pressed her chin to the top of Elena’s head, breathing her in. “Mommy is no fool, a fraction of obedience does not mean she can trust you. But you can spend time here supervised.”

Elena huffed, frustrated but unsurprised by the sentiment. They both knew that if she had even the slightest chance of escaping, she would be halfway to the village by now. Cassandra could attest to that. 

Undeterred by the sulky sound, Alcina continued to hold her like a teddy bear, squished close and squeezed a fraction too tight.

Something about the restraining grasp made Elena’s stomach pit and churn. She tried to reach up to press the Lady backwards, to escape the overbearing hug, but her limbs were locked to her sides. Instead, she tried to wriggle herself free, something primal in her brain telling her to escape.

“Stay,” Alcina commanded.

Elena whined, an animal noise low in her throat, but stopped moving.

For an eternity, she was held captive to the Lady’s perfume, her strong arms and the softness of her skin. The dizzying combination of this, the heat of the fire and the brightness of the room made her feel strangely lightheaded, and somewhere along the way she began to sink deeper into the grasp rather than trying to escape.

She was held for longer still, time moving thickly.

Eventually, her breathing slowed and her eyes closed—not quite asleep, but loose limbed and pliant, heart plodding calmly along.

Only then did Alcina’s tight hold ease, allowing her a modicum of freedom which startled her into opening her eyes, blinking unsteadily up at the Lady. 

“Feeling comfortable, little one?”

Elena made a soft noise in response, but said nothing.

“Good.”

A large hand carded through her hair, the scratch of her nails on the scalp soothing. The touch was gentle, twirling long, wavy red strands around her fingers and smoothing the wild flyaways.

Elena allowed herself to be patted like a dog, a traitorous part of her enjoying the attention—it felt good, much as she hated herself for admitting it. 

Eventually the Lady spoke again, words sending a spike of dread down her spine like ice. “Mommy has a job for you.”

Her words came out suspicious, sulky. “What do you want?”

Alcina’s face shifted, warning, the hand in her hair curling. “Would you care to try that again?”

“What can I do for you, Mommy?” Elena amended, tone carefully flat.

“Mommy did not bring you here just to hold you, though it was quite nice,” Alcina said at length, letting go of her hair and instead leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth—a motion that made Elena freeze, relaxing only when the Lady leaned away again. “Be a good girl and pick some friends for Mommy.”

Her breath caught. “F-Friends?”

“Mmhm.” Her chin was seized, tilting her head deliberately towards the corner occupied with baby gates and stuffed toys. “A sweet little girl like you needs some friends to keep them company, yes? Mommy would like you to select some to bring back to her room.”

Humiliation was the first feeling, followed sharply by a hateful, deep longing—

The Lady’s words rang true, in a twisted sense. She did want friends. Desperately, longingly, she missed the days of having people who cared for her, who she could speak with as equals, laugh with without threats of punishment or blood on their face. She yearned to simply have someone close to her that didn’t demand her humanity in return.

So, the childish stuffed toys were a cruel imitation. 

Elena swallowed the angry lump in her throat, eyes wet. “I don’t want any.”

“You know how Mommy feels about your wants,” Alcina retorted, firmer—forcing Elena to look back at her, taking in the hint of tears in her eyes with clinical interest. “You will be good for Mommy, won’t you? Or do I need to take my stubborn girl over my knee again?”

The threat made her face sour further, skin flushed. The memory of the way the Lady’s palm bit into her skin made her shiver in memory, trapping her lip angrily between her teeth to hold back her instinctive, angry reply. Not even her real parents had done such a thing to her before, and she cringed remembering it.

“Well?”

The expectant, threatening tone made her head hang. “Fine.”

Elena could handle picking some toys out if she must—anything to avoid the bruising force of her blows, the humiliation of her hands on naked skin. 

“Watch your tone,” Lady Dimitrescu retorted sternly, rising to stand and taking Elena with her.

She wisely kept her mouth shut, scowling as the Lady carried her over to the corner. Rather than stepping over the safety barriers, a paltry move for someone her height, she simply set Elena down on her butt on the other side and smiled down at her like it was all a game. 

“Go on, then. Choose carefully, sweetheart.”

Elena scowled up at her in reply. “Okay.”

She tried to stand, intending to go peruse the rows of toys—however, she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, forcing her swiftly back down before she could really begin.

“None of that,” Alcina said, patting her head. “Your feet are still injured, you don’t want to undo the progress, do you?”

She stared up at her. “But how am I supposed to—”

The responding smile was too wide, that familiar mocking tilt to it. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Slowly, carefully, Elena tried to arrange herself on her knees, swallowing a hiss as she did. The soft rug and padding beneath eased the pressure of her body weight, but the lingering wounds from her escape and punishment still throbbed uncomfortably. It became obvious that the ban on standing had been more power play than genuine concern, as the Lady allowed her the humiliation of her pained, awkward crawl.

Elena dragged herself slowly and carefully to the other side, gritting her teeth as she moved to sit heavily instead. Row upon row of stuffed animals with beady little eyes stared at her, waiting for her to make her choice.

Without consideration, she picked up the first thing her hands made contact with. “This one.”

The Lady crossed her arms. “Now, now, how can you know that’s the one if you haven’t even played with it?”

“I don’t care,” she insisted, squeezing her hand around its fluffy neck in a stranglehold. “It’ll do.”

“Little mouse,” Alcina asserted, a thread of warning in her tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Play with it.”

Elena stiffened, staring down at the fluffy cartoon lion toy held in her hands. It had a smiling face, a bright red bow around its neck with a matching gem in the center. Her adult brain could not comprehend the childish request, no matter what the Lady requested of her. She was wholly unsure how to play. She just turned it over awkwardly between her palms, wiggled its arms a little and fiddled with the fluff on its tail.

“It’s…good.” Elena slowly set it in her lap, looking back at the Lady for approval.

The look she received in response was a little amused, but she received a nod. “Good girl. Now, I expect you to pick at least two more. Perhaps the fox?”

Her eyes ran along the army of toys, before finding the large fox plush within reach. Seizing the easy out, Elena scooped it up and held it at arms length, staring at it. It was bigger than the lion, but no less soft, perhaps more so. It was almost the length of her torso, would dangle childishly were she to carry it around. She knew instantly why the Lady wanted her to choose it.

Just to ensure the Lady couldn’t complain, she made a show of flopping its long tail around and touching its triangle ears, no matter how awfully the motions made her stomach churn. 

“Okay?” she asked, glancing at the Lady over her shoulder.

Alcina smiled larger now, eyes alight with something strangely bright. Elena got the sense that she truly enjoyed watching her stilted attempts at playing, and not just because it humiliated her.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised. “One more—choose carefully.”

Elena set the fox aside, eyes scanning through the remaining toys.

At the far end, a series of porcelain faced dolls sat. Elena cringed away from them on instinct despite how childish that was. They creeped her out, bringing back bad memories. While foraging in the woods once, she’d stumbled upon a tree full of them, all strung up in little nooses—it had terrified her out so bad, she’d had nightmares of dolls with knives and ropes hunting her for weeks. 

Decisively, she turned her back on the dolls, ignoring the way their glassy eyes peered through her. 

Returning to the soft toys, she considered them. There were animals of every kind and size, all standing at attention beneath her cursory gaze, waiting to be chosen. She almost reached for a generic brown teddy bear when, out of the corner of her eye, something grabbed her attention—she reached out for it instead.

A stuffed, cartoon wolf stared back at her with bright yellow eyes set in dark fur. It had a sly little smile, like it had been mischief making. The expression was what drew her to it—absurdly, it reminded her of Cassandra’s self-satisfied smirk when she had successfully annoyed one of her siblings. A comparison she knew would infuriate the brunette.

Elena considered it, tilting its head this way and that, an involuntary smile on her face. Then, satisfied that it would be her own private joke, she set it pointedly down with the others.

“Well done,” Alcina praised, stealing Elena’s attention from the toys back to her. “Would you care to pick any more?”

“No,” Elena answered quickly, relief palpable—then amended. “Thank you.”

“Come here, then. And bring your new friends to Mommy.”

Uncertainly, she glanced at the three toys, then back up to the Lady—who just stood and watched her mentally try to puzzle through how to get herself, and the three toys, over to the Lady without standing. It was a little awkward, but she sighed and draped the long fox around her shoulders, then grasped the arms of the other two in each hand.

The crawl back over was awkward, stopping more than once to fix the fox when it slid, or readjust her grasp on the other two. But after some pain and humiliation, she finally sat herself down heavily in front of the gate on the other side.

The Lady leaned down, patting the top of her head once again with a fond expression. “You did well.”

Elena ignored her, holding her arms up to offer the toys.

Alcina plucked her up by her armpits instead, settling Elena into the crook of her elbow and holding her close to her front. She saved the fox when it began to slip from Elena’s back, instead dancing its face in front of Elena’s. “Would you like to go back to Mommy’s room now, sweet girl?”

Elena scoffed when the fox was teased in front of her, leaning back to try and get some space. “Yes.”

“Then,” the fox darted forward, nose nuzzling gently against Elena’s. “Why don’t you ask your new friend nicely?”

Mortification welled like a physical thing in her gut, familiar but unwelcome. “What—?”

The Lady’s eyes shone like honeyed gold. “Go on.”

“Please,” she bit out, staring back into its beady eyes. “Can we go?”

The fox’s head tilted this way and that, their noses rubbing. Then, it nosed at her lips lightly, a motion that made her startle and look up at the Lady, who gave her a smirk. “You can ask nicer than that, sweet girl.”

Her stomach clenched, fingers fisting tighter around the plushies still in her hands. Then, slowly and reluctantly, she eased forward to press a kiss to its velvety nose. “Please can we go back to Mommy’s room?”

Elena squeaked as the fox was carefully arranged back around her neck like a prize.

The Lady’s answering smile was far too satisfied. “Come along, little one.”

Returning to their room offered Elena a few moments of hard earned reprieve.

The Lady had intended to put her down for a nap, by her own admission. She had just taken off Elena’s house slippers and socks when the pervasive need to use the bathroom made itself known, and Elena had to beg and plead to be allowed to use it instead of her diaper—a victory won only when she pressed a kiss to the Lady’s cheek, as she had earlier that day.

Elena did have to suffer the removal of her clean diaper, not permitted to remove it herself. But that was a small price to pay for the freedom to use the real bathroom unaided. Even after she had relieved herself, she enjoyed a few blissful minutes just to sit and try and rearrange her thoughts, chaotic as they were.

She had all of five minutes to herself in the bathroom before the Lady came to retrieve her. She was carried back to the bed, the stupid fox toy pressed into her arms.

Elena scowled, trying to reject it. “Do I have to?”

The Lady just pressed firmly, overpowering her with ease and forcing her to wrap her arms around it until it was tucked to her chest. “You know Mommy’s answer.”

At least it proved of some use when the Lady hiked the bottom of her dress up to fasten a new diaper. Elena pressed the red fluff to her face to hide her embarrassment. A wobbly sound bubbled in her chest, uncomfortable and sullen.

“I’ve just gone,” Elena protested, squirming. “Why do I have to wear it now?”

The Lady gave her a warning pinch on her thigh, not harmful by any means, but enough to make her yelp and still. “Because you are a child, regardless of whatever silly ideas you have in that head of yours. Must Mommy remind you of your little accident?”

The reminder was cruel, raking against the frayed ends of her nerves and the horrible memories. It had only been a day, and though the rest of the family seemed to act as if it was no big deal, for Elena it very much was. It was something not even a lifetime of trying would allow her to forget. The memories sat like hot coals in her stomach, anger sinking its teeth into her.

She squeezed the fox’s neck hard enough that, were it real, it would have snapped—she imagined that it was Lady’s neck between her hands, and squeezed a fraction harder. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course not,” Alcina agreed, dragging her dress back down and sitting her up. She caressed her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. Mommy doesn’t blame you, you are simply too young to be without one.”

That was not at all what she was trying to say, but it was very much typical of the Lady to take it as such.

Whatever she wanted to say in response to that was wasted, they both knew it. 

Instead, Elena deliberately turned her back on the Lady, shuffling up the bed and burying herself sulkily into the pillows. Though the linens must have been changed, they still smelled overwhelmingly of the Lady’s perfume. Feeling petty, she shoved a few out of the bed in annoyance, her toys going with it—she hoped it would annoy the Lady, so that she could experience a fraction of how she made Elena feel.

“Be nice to your friends, little one,” the Lady’s words were amused rather than angry. “Has Mommy upset you?”

Elena huffed in response, turning over onto her belly to bury her face in a pillow, arms up and shoulders hiked around her ears. In that position, she blocked out the world entirely. The Lady said something, but it went purposefully unheard by her.

A moment of silence.

Footsteps advanced on her deaf ears.

A hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, a knee perching on either side of her thighs.

Elena froze, heart racing and breath hitching. “M-Mommy?”

“You forgot something, sweet girl,” Alcina leaned in close, nuzzling her hair out of the way so she could breathe in the soft scent of fear from the back of her neck. There was a rasp to her voice that hadn’t been there before.

The moment was tense, the air heavy with something primal, oozing down her spine and making her shiver.

“Give Mommy your wrist,” Alcina purred, the hand between her shoulders skimming slowly up, tracing the length of her right arm. 

Elena did not fight when her arm was pulled from beneath the pillow, just sunk her teeth into her lip and submissively allowed herself to go slack. All the while, the Lady’s hot breath fanned out across her neck like a promise. She shut her eyes, waiting for a bite.

It never came.

Instead, the clasp of the headboard tether snapped around the link on her wrist with a quiet clink.

A single kiss was placed against her neck, then the Lady lifted away. “Sleep well, darling.”

Elena said nothing, heart racing.

It took her far too long to get to sleep afterwards.

Chapter Text

When Elena next stirred, she was surprised to find herself alone.

By nature, she had always been somewhat of a light sleeper—often waking up in the dead of night as the house creaked or her father snored. It had only grown worse in Castle Dimitrescu, when one had to be constantly aware. Recently, that awareness had been lost to the medicinal tea, the way it filled her head with fuzz and left her struggling to keep her eyes open.

But the Lady had not given her any tea before Elena fell asleep, and so when Elena awoke there was nothing to steal the strength from her limbs, nothing to keep her asleep. So, perhaps earlier than was intended, her eyes opened and found the room empty.

Blinking away the lingering sleep, she rolled onto her side, scanning the room. There was no sign of the Lady or her daughters. She had been left unattended, but for the red fox she found tucked into the blanket next to her—swiftly tossed to the foot of the bed in disgust. It felt easy. Too easy, too careless, too deliberate.

Suspicious, she called out. “Mommy?”

Then, embarrassed by calling the title to an empty room, she fell quiet.

There was nothing—no distant footsteps, no buzzing of flies, just…silence.

Elena waited for a few moments, dragging into minutes, but there was no answer to her call. The thought made something nervous churn in her stomach, a bubble of anxiety and excitement.

A bad idea crystallizing, Elena slowly eased herself up into sitting, blankets pooling at her waist. 

She studied her wrist cuffs, finding that the Lady had only leashed one. The memory of the shackling made her shiver, skin at the back of her neck prickling. But she turned her right wrist this way and that, studying it. The Dimitrescu sigil shone in the lamp light, a mark of ownership that made her frown, but she focused on studying the way the clasp hooked into her wrist cuff. 

With a clumsy left hand, she went to work on the clasp. It was similar in mechanism to one that could be found on a dog leash, except the metal was studier and there was a large, tightly coiled spring inside. There was no discernible key hole, but it did not budge at all when she tried to unclasp it.

“Shit,” Elena cursed, twisting it further to try and find any hints.

There was nothing, though, and no matter what she did it would not move. Even brute force failed to shift it. It must have some sort of stranger mechanism, some trick she couldn’t figure out. Both Bela and the Lady had been able to unclasp it with ease, she recalled, so why couldn’t she?

Frustrated, Elena shuffled up the bed, shoving the remaining pillows out of the way. She followed the tether up to the headboard, then sat up to try and peer behind it and see where it was anchored in the wood. There was nothing that stood out, except for the faint glimmer of what might have been a bolt or a hook, but it was too dark to tell. 

Elena leaned heavily against the headboard, doing her best to dangle her arm down. But no matter how she contorted, she couldn’t reach. Even trying to use the tether as an anchor for leverage gave no joy.

The door opening shocked her back to reality.

Elena froze, a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Alcina’s voice was dry, unamused. “Having fun?”

Elena sucked in a sharp breath, dropping away from the headboard to land unsteadily to her knees, then allowing them to crumble beneath her as she sat down instead. Her eyes shifted down, to her hands twisting anxiously in her lap. “Mommy, I—”

A disappointed sigh, the sound of footsteps. “Quiet.”

Elena fell silent, stiffening as a large hand reached for her in her peripheral vision; she did not turn her head, frozen as a statue.

A hand wandered curiously around her neck. It pressed over the bandaged bite on her neck, but she felt little pain. It curved curiously over the column of her throat. It lovingly brushed over her pulsing artery. Then, long large fingers pushed up, tilting her head to the ceiling.

Towering over her, the Lady’s eyes were molten. “You failed my test, little mouse.”

Her heart raced. “I—”

“Shh,” Alcina soothed, hand grasping around her neck with ease. “Mommy must teach you something.”

Cold fear flooded through her, like she had been plunged deep in a raging river.

Her breaths were harsh, lungs too big and too full in her chest. She was open mouth panting, hearing fading to static and color seeming to flood from the room for a few horrible moments. All her focus was tunneled on the hand around her throat, on the power in the hold, something primal in her recognizing that all it would take was one little squeeze—

Her throat worked furiously, an animal noise of desperation slipping out. “Please, don’t—” 

“Be quiet,” the Lady repeated, less nice this time. Her thumb dug slightly into Elena’s carotid artery, feeling the throbbing fear deep in her veins. “And listen to Mommy.”

Elena’s mouth snapped sharply shut.

“Your defiance gets you nowhere, Elena. The sooner you realize that, the better,” Alcina said, the usage of her name sharp enough to snap Elena to attention. Locked in the hold, Elena had nowhere to look but up into her eyes, the way the pupil had dilated to almost eclipse the gold, except for the finest ring that blazed down at her. “Your place is here, with me. Do you understand?”

Despite her fear, Elena bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood.

Like a shark scenting the water, Alcina’s eyes glowed at the scent of it in the air. 

“A visual lesson,” the Lady said aloud, more to herself than Elena.

Then, her free hand reached down to grasp the tethered wrist, pulling it upwards so the clasp was visible clearly to them both. She released Elena’s neck, allowing the girl to gasp and suck in desperate breaths. “Watch,” she said firmly, nudging her chin so she was forced to look at it, wide-eyed. 

Slowly, she unclasped the tether. 

Elena watched, wide-eyed.

There was no secret mechanism, no trick, just the ripple of muscle in her forearm—just pure, supernatural strength that Elena could never hope to replicate. She would have been better served trying to gnaw her way out like a dog. 

Alcina witnessed the crushing defeat bloom across her face, the way it welled like tears in her eyes.

Satisfied, she dropped the wrist and tether both, letting them fall helplessly to Elena’s lap. “I do admire your stubbornness, truly. It’s a trait your sisters and I share, only befitting of a Dimitrescu. But it serves you no good against me.”

The words were simple, truthful, uncompromising in sentiment.

Elena knew that the Lady was deluded, crazy, sought something she was not prepared to unpack—but, more importantly, she had the power and determination, the stubbornness, to back her decisions up. 

Frozen in defeat, Elena just sat there, staring glassy-eyed at her lap, without the support of the hand at her throat to keep her head high. She wanted nothing more than to plunge herself back into the calm waters of her own mind, where nothing could hurt her, but she felt the presence of the Lady at her side like a creature waiting to drown her beneath the tides.

She bit her lip, hard. 

Her vision swam and she ducked her head further, eyes shadowed by long strands of hair, a curtain of red separating her from the outside world. Her hands clenched so hard in her lap, the nails dug into her skin. But no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. Hopeless, helpless, the words were the same—nobody was there to help her, save her, she was alone.

A trembling, wounded noise slipped from her.

“Shh, sweet girl. I know.”

A hand stroked through her hair—it was soft, gentle, nothing like the fierce grip around her neck, and the hot-cold rush made Elena swallow a sob. Her head was spinning, she was so dizzy, whiplashed by it all.

“Mommy just wants to take care of you,” Alcina whispered, voice careful and so soft; an insidious tone. “I will give you everything. You will be safe, fed, taken care of. You will have all the family you could ever hope for. Is that such a bad thing?”

The words were claws, piercing deep into the fears deep into her darkest thoughts; into the long broken parts of her, into festering wounds and torn stitches. They sought to reshape her into something new, scary, like she was wet clay that just needed coaxing. And Elena knew what she was doing—

Despite herself, she leaned into the touch, a shuddery breath rasping from her chest.

“Shh, I know,” Alcina repeated, continuing to run her hand through her hair. The other hand was unbearably cautious, tender, asking more than insisting Elena turn her head. “It must be so scary.”

Elena felt rubbed raw, barely able to string a coherent thought. She let the Lady turn her head.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, Alcina stooped carefully down to her level, as if she was bending to address a frightened pet—choosing to ignore that she had been the one to frighten it. Her face was soft, sympathetic. “You have had such a rough time, haven’t you?”

And the words broke her. 

The tears came thicker and faster, distorting the Lady’s face until she could delude herself into believing she was looking at someone else. She was Alice down the rabbit hole, the world upside down; she had taken a potion to make her small.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything besides cry heavy and heart rending tears.

“Here, little one,” the Lady offered, so, so tender. “Come to Mommy.”

The arms in front of her opened, not forcing, not pulling, not yanking—offering.

Elena, in a moment of weakness, succumbed.

“Mother?” 

Alcina waved her eldest daughter inside, still humming gently.

Bela stepped quietly through the door, staring at the sight before her with undisguised concern—her youngest sister curled up in her mother’s arms as she paced, rocking her softly. Elena was shaking like a leaf, face pressed into her mother’s shoulder and hands clutching the dress like a lifeline.

“You both missed dinner,” Bela said carefully, quietly. “I was worried.”

“Your sister needed my attention,” Alcina said, hand settling on the back of Elena’s head and running through her messy hair. “I’m afraid she’s a little overwhelmed.”

Bela digested that slowly, frowning. “Should I call for a meal to be brought up?”

“Are you hungry, little one?” Alcina asked, trying to coax Elena into looking at her. She stubbornly kept her head buried into the Lady’s shoulder, saying nothing, as she had for half the evening. Alcina pressed a kiss to the side of her head, then returned her eyes to Bela. “Something simple, darling. I don’t think she’s likely to stomach much tonight.”

“Yes Mother,” Bela replied, turning to leave—then lingering by the door, uncertain.

Alcina caught her hesitation. “Speak, dearest.”

“Will she be okay?”

“She will be,” Alcina replied, stroking Elena’s head fondly. “She’s just learning her place here.”

Elena was a creature running on base instincts, unable to harness her usual fight or flight.

The Lady spoke softly to her as she clutched her tight, voice low and lilting but largely going unheard. She was deliberately deaf, choosing not to think or feel too deeply—it left her almost unresponsive, tears long since cried out, terror and panic succumbing to exhausted grief and bone-deep numbness.

Running only off of primal needs, she was a selfish creature that sought nothing but comfort like a lifeline. She said nothing, did nothing, wanted nothing. All she craved was the warmth of another, the solid reassurance of arms around her, no matter who they came from. And so, she allowed herself to be held.

The Lady spoke softly to her as she paced, running her hand soothingly down her back. “I am so proud of you, sweet girl.”

Elena soaked her praise and her presence in, touch-starved and desperate. It was reassuring, comfortable, and that was all her current self cared about.

“Mommy will take care of you,” Alcina continued, murmuring into her hair, voice soft, crooning—the same words she had been whispering over and over again, a broken record sputtering sweet platitudes. “You’re safe. Mommy’s got you.” 

Hollow and utterly defeated, Elena just lay in her arms for what could have been minutes or hours.

She barely reacted when Bela entered the room, just sat trembling in the safety of the Lady’s arms and allowed herself to be protected—not fully cognizant of what she needed protection from, but comfortable in her ability to deliver it. The Lady’s constant use of the word safe was taking root in a primal way, ringing somewhere in the back of her brain, stored away for later.

Elena did take notice when the maids arrived with food—but solely because the Lady attempted to deposit her on the bed.

She resisted being set down, clutching the Lady’s dress tight enough that the tear-stained fabric stretched slightly between her fingertips. Her throat worked, voice not quite coming out right no matter how hard she tried. Instead just a low, protesting sound.

Something about the sound struck Alcina, a flare in her eyes unseen to Elena—but audible, palpable in the deep rumble she made in her throat in return. Tucking Elena tighter into her side, the Lady called out to the maids on the other side of the door, a threatening leave it and go that was swiftly heeded by thumping footsteps, running down the hallway. 

Satisfied, Alcina sat heavily on the bed with her instead. “You make a mess of me, truly.”

Elena said nothing in response, just allowed herself to be arranged in the familiar hold—perched across the Lady’s thighs, pressed into the soft curves of her body. The sigh she let out was relieved, though there was still tension written in the way Elena clutched onto her.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Alcina drew Elena’s face back from her shoulder. “Sweet girl,” she said, persisting through the whining, until their eyes could meet. “Mommy must collect your dinner.”

She shook her head, cheeks puffy and tear-stained, eyes red as she blinked unsteadily. She wasn’t hungry, but her words faltered, flat when she tried to force her tongue to obey. It took a long time, but eventually she coaxed her brain and her mouth to work as one, voice coming out croaky, thready. “No.”

Ordinarily, that sort of protest would have the Lady sharpening, pressing her advantage and forcing Elena to confront whatever she was trying to defy. But they both knew that it was more plea than demand, driven by genuine need.

Eventually, after a rare moment of indecision, Alcina reached out, cupping Elena’s cheek, careful not to irritate the angry skin. Her expression was syrupy, utterly fond. “My precious little girl. I adore you.”

Elena blinked slowly back at her, heart squeezing for reasons beyond her comprehension. Free of the heady perfume and comfort of her neck, her awareness was slowly returning, almost reluctantly, dueling with the part of her that wanted to live forever in the warmth and quiet. She still felt a few inches to the left of her own body, but cognizant enough now to realize who she was clinging to.

Shame and embarrassment flushed through her, distant but insistent.

It was swiftly replaced by fear, as the door was pulled sharply open, startling them both.

Alcina puffed up at Elena’s sharp jolt—hot, protective rage flashing over her face, a low snarl rumbling in the room, quieting only when the door opened wide enough to show a familiar face peeking through.

“Mother?” Daniela peeked through the cracked door, eyes wide and worried.

The response was a rumble, teeth flashing. “It is polite to knock, Daniela.”

A hand pressed down on Daniela’s head, shoving her sharply downwards so a brunette one could fill the space. “Apologies for the interruption Mother,” Cassandra said, deliberately casual, though her eyes never left Elena. She wiggled a wine bottle and glass in her free hand. “A few screeching birds mentioned you might need a hand.”

Bela lurked quietly behind them, no less concerned but looking very hesitant to have bothered her once again. All the same, she had a silver tray in her hands. “I tried to stop them, Mother.”

“Come, daughters,” Alcina sighed after a moment, eyeing all three of them with reproach, but swiftly returning her attention to the girl in her lap—who was pale, eyes wide. That made her teeth bare again, a threatening hiss in her tone. “Slowly.”

Daniela was the first to push through the door, headbutting Cassandra who stumbled slightly, swearing with a groan and a disgusting shiver—one that made Bela’s nose wrinkle, pushing the middle sister inside a little roughly and then sealing the door behind them both. The three of them approached carefully, slowly, under the watchful eye of their mother.

Sitting sideways in the Lady’s lap, Elena shrunk back at the procession of the three of them, pressing closer into the arms around her. The fear had ebbed, shock fading to recognition, though her heart still raced—a primal acknowledgement somewhere in her hindbrain, reminding her that she shared a sealed room with not one, but four apex predators who could rip her apart on a whim. 

Alcina growled when Daniela, vibrating with interest and concern, moved a bit too swiftly—the sound sharply reminding Elena who it was that sat at the top of the food chain and that she was devoted solely to protecting her, even from her own daughters. That, more than anything, made Elena relax a little. She released one of the hands from the Lady’s dress, instead finding one of the hands set on her waist and curling her fingers tightly around it.

The Lady made a pleased noise, dropping a kiss on her head, nuzzling pointedly into Elena’s neck as she stared at Daniela. The redhead made a half-whined noise of protest, but halted in her advance.

“Hey, little one,” Cassandra purred, the first to dare address her, ignoring her mother’s warning sound as she stepped closer. “Rough night?”

Bela audibly smacked her free hand over her eyes. “Cassandra.”

Elena stared wordlessly back, unable to muster herself to find a reply that could encapsulate everything she felt. She wasn’t that in touch with herself yet. Words were…hard. So, stare she did.

The brunette, undeterred and caring little about sugar coating, just winked at her in response. She wiggled the bottle of Sanguis Virginis in her hand. “Wine, Mother?”

Alcina clearly wanted to say something in response to Cassandra’s words, but held her tongue. Her tone came out terse, warning. “If you would be so kind, daughter.”

While Cassandra busied herself with uncorking the bottle and pouring a heavy-handed glass that would make the servants aghast, the eldest of the sisters offered the silver tray in her arms. “Dinner for the little one, Mother. May I?”

“The table please, darling,” Alcina said, pressing a kiss to Elena’s cheek and lifting her up again. “Come, sweet girl.”

Rushing to make herself useful, Daniela crouched by the fireplace as her family moved around the room. She prodded the soft embers, placing more tinder and kindling, stoking it until it began to catch and burn anew. Victorious, she turned to seek her mother’s praise, only to find her attention fixed on Elena instead.

Pouting, she slithered into the armchair opposite the one the Lady and Elena had settled in together, throwing herself firmly into Cassandra’s lap. “Mother!” Daniela called, ignoring the brunette’s protests beneath her in the way only a spoiled younger sibling could. “Can we stay? Please. We’ll be so good!”

“What do you think?” Alcina asked, tilting Elena’s chin up to her, genuinely seeking her opinion. “There would be no safer place than here, with your darling sisters and I.”

Her head still a little muddied, but a little more responsive now, Elena blinked back up at her. Her brain was torn between absolutely do not want and memories of all of them: being tucked like something precious in Bela’s lap, Daniela’s body curled warmly around hers, Cassandra’s soothing hand on her back in the dark. She chewed absently at one of her fingernails as she thought.

With her better judgement still not fully working, Elena made a decision.

A small, slow nod. 

“Very well,” Alcina agreed, almost immediately drowned out by Daniela’s excited cry—and Cassandra’s swear when her elbow flew up, clocking her once again in the face. She sighed, aggrieved. “Quietly, Daniela.”

With Cassandra’s hands seizing her wrists to stop them flailing, Daniela just buzzed excitedly and grinned far too wide. “Thank you, Mother,” she whispered theatrically, voice trembling with excitement. Her eyes then turned to Elena, deliberately smoothing her smile into something smaller, more genuine. “Thank you, baby sister.”

Surprised and unsure how to take being addressed, Elena just leaned more heavily into the safety of the Lady’s arms and continued to chew nervously on the edge of her fingernail, trying to string her thoughts together into something coherent. They were slow to connect, mostly revolving around embarrassment and despair.

“That’s a filthy habit, darling,” Alcina said, pulling the hand away from Elena’s mouth, ignoring her whine. “Shh, you’re fine.”

Bela leaned forward from her own perch, the vanity seat she had dragged over looking more like a piano bench underneath her smaller frame. She lifted the lid of the tray and set it aside. “Perhaps some food, sister?”

Elena said nothing, eyes flicking between the offerings with disinterest. She couldn’t find the desire to eat, stomach hollow and empty; especially not with four pairs of eyes on her. Instead, she just turned her head pointedly away.

Unsurprised, Alcina reached out herself, bringing a spoonful of soup to hover at Elena’s closed lips. “Open your mouth, dearest.”

Elena stared at it as if she could make it evaporate with the power of her mind alone, deliberately twisting her head further away, squirming slightly in the Lady’s hold. She was not hungry. Even if the food smelled nice, it held no interest. She wasn’t sure what she wanted—to sink into a pit and never return, quite possibly.

“Elena,” Alcina said slowly, carefully—again, the usage of her name enough to snap the girl’s attention back to her. Her tone was moderate, but the request was a little more pointed than it had been all night, coaxing, very much parental. “Open your mouth for Mommy.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Elena opened her mouth.

The soup was…okay, warm and seeping through her limbs and the strange cold that had pervaded her. But it tasted like nothing on her tongue, just taken and swallowed by instinct, only because it was offered to her. She was not completely out of it, but her brain hadn’t yet channeled any attention to her taste buds.

Satisfied as Elena slowly swallowed the soup down, Alcina reached out with her other hand and took a sip of her wine in return. 

Cassandra, who had successfully fought a wiggling Daniela into some semblance of order which involved a half-headlock, lifted her own glass to her lips, swirling it—where she had gotten that glass and when was something Elena did not have the brain power to spare to consider. “Cheers, Mother,” she grinned cheekily, then downed it in one gulp.

Alcina set her glass down, licking her lips and let out a tannin-dry sigh. “At least appreciate it, Cassandra. Don’t waste it.”

“I do appreciate it, Mother,” Cassandra retorted, snorting when Daniela snatched the empty glass and upended the dregs from the bottom. She gave a dreamy sigh, a distant, admiring look in her eye. “I remember this one—Ioana, if memory serves? Mouthy, sarcastic, blonde? We spent weeks together before I was through with her. She sang so well. She tastes as good as I remember.”

Bela had the good sense to shut that line of conversation down before the Lady had to. “Cassandra,” she sighed. “Not in front of our sister.”

Thankfully Elena didn’t have the capacity to sink deep into that line of thought, still exhausted emotionally and unable to find the energy to spiral about the implications of that. Instead, she just opened her mouth again when coaxed and allowed another mouthful of soup to be fed to her.

That was how the feeding went, the girls talking softly among themselves, sometimes trying to engage the Lady or Elena but with middling results. All the while, the Lady alternated between sips of wine and feeding Elena. The bowl was almost empty when Elena shook her head, refusing the rest of it.

“You did well,” Alcina praised, setting the spoon back in the bowl draping her hand over her stomach instead to keep her in place. “Such a good girl.”

Elena shuddered, skin prickling as the hand absently caressed her stomach. She didn’t say anything in response, tongue tangled and throat squeezing when she tried. Just sat there wrapped in her arms, stomach heavy and full, and allowed herself to marinate in the gentle passes of the Lady’s thumb.

“Girls,” Alcina said, drawing the attention of the table. “If you all are amenable, perhaps we could retire to the Hall of Ablution. Someone needs a bath and I find myself oddly…sentimental tonight.”

The words gave Elena’s thoughts a little pause, remembering whispers about what happened in that room. The memories made her skin burst out in chills, which were chased away by the Lady’s soothing hand and lips on her cheek.

Cassandra, who still had Daniela splayed comfily in her lap, grasped a few strands of red hair and gave a theatrically loud sniff, followed by a very fake gag. “I don’t think someone has washed their hair this century,” she said solemnly—then jolted with a groan when Daniela turned around, catching Cassandra’s hand in her teeth hard.

“I’ll have the maids prepare it, Mother,” Bela said, excitement obvious across her face, completely ignoring the mini fight breaking out between her two younger sisters. She swarmed quickly towards the door. “Excuse me!”

Alcina contented herself with petting Elena’s hair like a dog, allowing the bickering to unfold—at least until Daniela bit down hard enough to draw black blood between her teeth, and Cassandra gave a filthy moan that had even her grimacing in disgust.

“Girls,” she snapped. “Go get ready for the bath.”

They paused, untangling themselves and smiling innocent smiles at her. “Yes, Mother!”

Like much of the castle, the Hall of Ablution was objectively beautiful.

Elena stared around in interest as she was carried inside, noting the expertly carved statues and paintings all along the walls. But the most interesting part was the middle of the room.  There was no pool of blood, as she had heard rumors about—instead there was just a large pool, enough to seat at least a dozen people, filled to the brim with steaming, fragrant water. 

In the time since the daughters had fled and the Lady had scooped her up to carry her down towards the room, Elena had managed to piece herself back together somewhat. Enough that the embarrassment and despair that lingered in her chest had grown wider, pervading her limbs, but also somewhat replaced by discomfort and worry.

Especially when she caught sight of Cassandra and Bela, already submerged up to their shoulders in opposite ends of the bath, concealed beneath the murky water. Then to Daniela, who was floating on her back without a care—utterly oblivious to, or more likely entirely uncaring of, the fact that she was naked and baring far too much to the world. 

She sat straighter at the sight of them, fists clenching into the Lady’s dress.

Cursed with higher brain function once again, Elena’s only-child mind could not fathom the idea of a communal bath. She hadn’t shared a bath with her family in her memory, not since she was a baby. Disregarding the ones she had shared with the Lady, the concept of it made her confused. She couldn’t reconcile why her fully grown, adult daughters would want to join them.

“Why are we here?” She asked, voice hitching uncomfortably, low and raspy from crying. 

Alcina felt her stiffen, holding her firmly but not tightly, enough to keep Elena from dropping out of her arms and running were she so inclined. “Easy, darling,” Alcina replied. “It is late, and we are all due a bath. Pay your sisters no mind. Although their manners leave something to be desired at times, they will keep their hands to themselves.”

The words were clearly for the girls, not her, because Cassandra just clawed teasingly in the air while Daniela splashed loudly as she rolled over to smile at them.

“But…”

“It will be fine, trust Mommy.”

She didn’t, not really, not now that she had come back to herself—embarrassed about clinging to her, of bawling her eyes out like a child, and yet somehow still unable to fully let go of her dress. But she didn’t have a choice.

There was some seating on the far side of the hall, and the Lady set her down there. Then, ignoring Elena’s squeak and sharply averted eyes, she went about removing her dress—tear-stained and stretched at the neck, it would likely not be saved, and so the Lady simply kicked it off and left it there without any care to preserve it.

Elena ignored the giggles from the bathtub, keeping her eyes shut as she heard more cloth hitting the floor. Then, hands settled gently on her wrists—the removal of the cuffs startling her into opening her eyes, then swiftly shutting them again when she caught sight of parts of the Lady she was not supposed to see. 

“Arms up,” Alcina said, ignoring her turmoil. Then, when she failed to do so, coaxing them up herself in a familiar motion. 

The removal of her dress was not surprising, but Elena scrambled to cover herself all the same—far too aware of the eyes piercing into her from the girls in the bath. The Lady paid her daughters no mind however, focusing solely on removing the bandages and sticky adhesives from her wounds. The one on her shoulder in particular received a hum of approval, the skin mostly healed and not even stinging when it was prodded at.

Eventually, Elena dared to crack open an eye, making a noise of distress when she found Daniela open-mouth gaping at her.

Cassandra caught her alarm, frowning, then reached out—shoving Daniela’s head under the water and holding it there, ignoring the bubbles and the kicking. “Come on in, little one, the water is lovely.”

Rather than showing any care for her daughter being actively drowned, Alcina just picked Elena up, naked skin to naked skin, and carried her towards the stairs into the water. “Behave, girls,” she said to Cassandra as she waded into the water. “I’d hate to have to deal with two messes in one night.”

Elena made a choked, half indignant and half embarrassed sound. 

Alcina chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You are my messy little girl, I expect nothing less. They,” she said, attention on Daniela, who had been released and resurfaced, coughing and spluttering, “are a constant work in progress, much to my dismay. Breathe, darling.”

Bela took some pity on Daniela, where Cassandra just cackled. She reached over, smacking her sister solidly on the back through the water, grimacing at the stream of water pouring from her lungs as she coughed. “Must you be so rough?” she asked Cassandra.

The brunette gave a coy grin. “I could be rougher, if you like?”

Bela ignored her, smacking her sister’s back one more time.

Daniela hacked loudly, wiping her mouth and shaking her head like a dog—whipping water over both Bela and Cassandra, who shrieked about getting their own hair wet. Then she scrubbed her tongue. “Ew, the water tastes like soap, Cassie.”

Elena shied away from the three daughters, their antics and their nakedness, instead clinging close to the familiar bulk of the Lady. A fact which the woman herself seemed overly pleased by, reclining at the side of the bath with Elena set across her thighs, one arm draped and covering the width of her belly easily.

“Here,” the Lady said, reaching out to a small basket set to the side and retrieving a washcloth. “Let Mommy see your face.”

Reluctantly, Elena tipped her chin up, allowing her to wet the cloth and carefully scrub at her cheeks. The skin was still red, puffy and raw, and she whined as the Lady scrubbed softly at the long-dry salt trails. 

“I know,” Alcina said gently. “You’re a wreck, my love.”

She did not need to be told that, Elena knew that bone deep.

Still, she said nothing, just allowed herself to be cleaned with what threads of dignity she had left—not many, considering the events of the day and her current position. Once her face was clean, the Lady reached back into the basket, pulling out soap and lathering it in the washcloth, making her intentions clear.

Elena squirmed, mortified at the idea of being washed like a child in front of the daughters. She opened her mouth to protest, squirming to leave, but the sound died in her throat when she felt a kiss pressed to her cheek and the arm around her belly squeeze her tighter.

“Hush,” Alcina forestalled the welling tantrum. “It’s nothing I haven’t done for your sisters.”

She caught the way the other girls cringed, Cassandra in particular—despite delighting in her mother’s affection and loving to make inappropriate comments, she seemed strangely shy about the concept of being treated like a child. It was rather hard to imagine her being manhandled in the same way, Elena’s mental picture of her was much closer to a grouchy stray cat, fiercely independent and stubborn, but returning for affection on her own terms.

Still, it didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach when the Lady ran the washcloth across her skin, intent on cleaning her fully. It was familiar, businesslike motions, not even overly discernible under the murky water that gave them some modesty. But it didn’t mean she didn’t lock up and squeak with alarm when they drifted between her thighs—not at all sexual, but not comfortable for an adult either.

A kiss pressed behind her ear, reassuring. “Shh, Mommy’s got you.”

Despite herself, the familiar words made her shoulders relax traitorously—something about the mantra that had been whispered to her all night hooking deep into the back of her brain, the seeds of suggestion flourishing in ways that chafed horribly. But she did allow the rest of the cleaning, then the swap to washing her hair, with only the racing of her heart as a sign of how she felt.

It actually lulled her a little, so she was startled when the Lady sat her up after rinsing the conditioner out, instead beginning to gently coax her off of her lap. “Mm?”

The Lady laughed. “Silly girl, you’re all clean now. Go play with your sisters.”

That earned the interest of all three, who had already cleaned themselves and were instead reclining in the water. Daniela in particular surged forward in excitement, only for Cassandra to grab her ankle and drag her backwards, forcing her to take a seat again.

Elena eyed them with undisguised concern, leaning further into the Lady.

“Go on, Mommy must get herself clean,” Alcina said, a laugh in her tone, giving Elena the softest push towards her sisters. “They won’t harm you.”

Elena did not want to leave her, as absurd as it felt to acknowledge to herself—but like a mother bird pushing the baby out of the nest to learn how to fly, she was nudged from her lap and into the water. For the briefest moment she dipped beneath the surface, feet seeking the bottom and only finding more water as it cleared her head—then, a large hand steadied her again, and she reluctantly began to tread the water.

After being carried for so long, it actually felt somewhat good to use her muscles, working through stiffness she didn’t know she had. The instinct to swim coming second nature, after a moment of shock. The water was much warmer than the rivers and reservoir she learned in, much easier to tread without currents or unknown creatures lurking beneath the surface.

Daniela was vibrating with interest as Elena swam, and the unrestrained excitement on her head made Elena fill with dread.

Her eyes darted between Bela, who sat in one corner, arms crossed beneath the water and hair wet around her shoulders from roughhousing with her sisters. She was deliberately not looking at Elena, deliberately casual—though, it was obvious she was watching out of the corner of her eye.

In the other corner, Cassandra sat, casually holding Daniela back by a hand in her hair. Her eyes were lidded though as she looked at Elena, and whether it was tiredness, relaxation or flirty suggestion was up in the air. “Come here, sister.”

She glanced between Bela and the other two daughters, indecision warring—especially when Bela turned and hissed something she didn’t catch at Cassandra, something that had the brunette grinning with sharp teeth, Daniela snickering next to her. She felt absurdly like a dog with two sets of fingers being clicked, forced to choose.

Whatever her choice, she feared the repercussions, so she just treaded water and stared between them with wide eyes.

Eventually, Daniela swarmed out of Cassandra’s hold and to her rescue, spraying water everywhere on insect wings. “Here, baby sister,” she said, holding out her hands. “Come with me!”

Although the concept of entrusting herself to Daniela made her uneasy, Elena took the easy out. Despite her excitement, her fellow redhead was surprisingly gentle as she took Elena’s hands in her own. Then, treading backwards with deceptive ease, Daniela pulled her towards the other two girls, swimming them into the middle instead of either corner.

Perching on the bench in the water, Daniela tried to seat Elena next to her—only for both of them to swiftly realize that without the boost from the Lady’s thighs, she was just a hair too short, the water lapping at her mouth.

“It’s okay,” Daniela beamed, pulling gently on their linked hands. “Big sister’s here!”

Elena found herself tugged forward, only then realizing what Daniela intended when she was settled into the redhead’s lap—her naked front to Daniela’s and far too close. She immediately let go of Daniela’s hands, seizing her shoulders, putting deliberate space between them. Only pushing more when Daniela seized her waist to steady her.

“Dani!” she protested, cheeks flushing darkly.

“Hands to yourself, Daniela,” Alcina reminded, a possessive rumble in her voice, midway through wiping her makeup off. “Or you’ll be losing them.”

Immediately, the hands shifted respectfully from Elena’s waist to rest at the edges of her shoulders. “Yes, Mother!”

Despite her words, the thread of interest in Daniela’s eyes was obvious, as was the way they had faded to a familiar ochre. Even as Elena watched, her pupils continued to expand, swallowing up all but the thinnest ring of color around the edges. Still, the redhead exercised a frankly respectable level of self-preservation and restraint, and only leaned her head forward so they could breathe each other’s air.

“You’re so cute,” Daniela whispered, giggling, nose brushing hers carefully. “I’m glad you’re my little sister!”

Elena flushed even darker, if that were possible—next to the predatory gaze of Cassandra and the respectful attentiveness of Bela, the open and unrepentant adoration of Daniela’s words and her face shook Elena in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Another way that daughter resembled mother, despite everything.

She didn’t know what to say to it, either. Her tongue tied, brain faltering. “Thanks?”

If she noticed the awkward fumble, Daniela didn’t seem inclined to mention it. Just continued to stare at her like she couldn’t believe Elena was real, was in her lap, was touching her skin—

Something spiked in the air, rippling across Elena’s skin like something physical—she didn’t have the receptors for it, but she knew the feeling well, and it made her quaver immediately, throat bared, an instinctive movement learned by observation.

“Sister,” Bela commanded immediately, swarming closer, lip curled in distaste. “Enough.”

The spike of something primal in the air hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Lady, and something deeper and heavier settled in the room, a low rumble that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. But she made no move to intercede, just held a washcloth in her still hand and stared across the water with heavy, reproachful eyes. 

Elena found herself tugged bodily out of Daniela’s lap by Bela—the dark-eyed redhead reaching out by instinct, a protest on her lips like a growl. Bela snarled back, correcting.

Without a second thought, Cassandra appeared with a sigh, plunging Daniela’s head back under the water and holding her there—a moment, two, all the while bubbles burst in the water. Then, she was allowed to surface again, coughing and spluttering once more.

“Apologies, Mother,” Cassandra said, giving Daniela a hefty smack on her back, far too hard to be solely to help get the bathwater out of her lungs. “Our little sister forgot herself for a moment.”

Daniela whined when Elena was carried away, but Cassandra just flicked her nose. “Say sorry, Dani.”

“But I didn’t—”

Cassandra leaned in this time, rumbling something of her own, something primal that made Daniela’s pupils thin. “What did I say?”

Cowed, Daniela glanced sullenly at Elena. “Sorry, sister.”

“And to Mother,” Cassandra prompted, looking slightly amused by her sister’s frustration.

The redhead whined, louder this time, but the intensity in Cassandra’s own gaze forced her to back down and turn her head away. “Sorry, Mother.”

Satisfied with the correction delivered by her daughters and the safety of the youngest in the eldest’s arms, Alcina returned slowly to cleaning herself, though her eyes continued to glow gold. “Accepted,” she rumbled, the overwhelming pressure in the room easing slightly. “But do remember yourself, Daniela. She is mine.”

Elena had whiplash, a familiar feeling, and allowed herself to be carried by Bela towards the safety of the blonde’s preferred corner of the bath. Though it was mortifying to be naked in her lap, the blonde did not seem to care in the slightest, arranging her respectfully. This time, she was settled with her back to Bela’s front, thankfully free of any intense gazes.

Although it had only been the once that morning, Bela’s lap felt oddly…welcoming. Though nowhere near as comfortable as her mother’s, she offered a similar feeling of safety. A palpable one too, because she could feel the dual gazes of Cassandra, who looked annoyed, and Daniela, who looked heartbroken, but neither one made an attempt to encroach farther than a few feet before Bela’s snarls warded them away.

She did jump slightly when Bela touched her head, but it was soft, gentle—carding through her wet hair, trying to bring some order to the flattened red mane, playing with the slightly curled ends. It felt…nice. Comforting. 

Before she knew it, the last few hours caught up with her and she leaned back into her, allowing the blonde to smooth her bangs out of her face and smile indulgently down at her. Then, she was gone, sleep sinking its claws in her once again.

Chapter Text

“Are you back with me, sleepy girl?”

Elena blinked awake slowly, eyes bleary, unsure of exactly when she had fallen asleep. Her hair was still half-damp and wild around her shoulders, and some of it stuck to her fist as she aggressively scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes with her knuckles. 

Undeterred, fingertips continued to gently trace her thigh, drawing a shiver out of her as they thumbed at the smooth flesh between her wounds—they were healing fast, faster than they had any right to, and the smaller cuts were now just soft pink lines. She squirmed at the ticklish touch, but was stilled by a firm hand on her belly.

“Mommy?”

“Shh,” Alcina soothed, hand returning to her thighs once she stopped squirming. She kissed a fresh bandage wrapped over the lingering split in her knee. “Mommy is just taking care of you.”

Elena relaxed a little, though it did not stop the frantic sound of her heart. “What happened?”

She recalled being in the bath, the warmth of the water and Bela’s lap both, the gentle hands in her hair—

“You fell asleep on your sister,” Alcina said, smiling indulgently from between her knees. Her eyes were honey-colored, looking at Elena like one might look at an adorable kitten that had pawed itself to sleep. “It was rather sweet.”

She flushed as red as her hair. “I…didn’t mean to.”

“No need to be embarrassed, darling, Bela was quite pleased,” Alcina replied with a knowing smile, lifting her thigh a little higher to study the cuts at the back of her thighs. They were mostly healed, and she gave a pleased hum. “I was reluctant to interrupt you, but you said some truly adorable things when Mommy retrieved you.”

Elena jolted, unable to recall being moved or speaking. “I—what did I say?”

“Nothing of importance, sweet girl,” the Lady replied, annoyingly vague as was often her prerogative—though there was a tilt to her smile that was entirely too self-satisfied and pleased, a look that made Elena’s stomach twist. She pressed another kiss to the back of Elena’s thigh, right over a fresh pink line. “You’re healing well.”

Her eyes darted back to the Lady, abruptly processing that she was naked but for the oversized white towel still wrapped around her. A towel that had slipped a little too far to be strictly modest due to all the coaxing, and that the Lady made no motion to re-cover her.

She tried to shift, but couldn’t get far with the hands on her thighs. “The towel—”

“It’s nothing Mommy hasn’t seen before, sweetheart,” she reminded her, lip quirking, but the Lady took a rare moment of pity on her and reached up to gently tug the towel back down and offer her the illusion of modesty. She ignored Elena’s jump when she patted her inner thigh afterwards. “Such a shy little girl.”

Elena chewed on her bottom lip, eyes casting around the empty bedroom. “Where are the ladies?”

“Your sisters,” Alcina corrected pointedly. “You will refer to them as such.”

The word made her stomach curl with discomfort, despite how many times she had used it. Though it was nowhere near as mortifying as Mommy, using it felt like reasserting that relationship—so far, she had only used it with the girls, when it was to her advantage or when she had no choice. Using it with the Lady felt like acknowledging the strange dynamic of their family.

She hesitated a bit too long, the words catching in her throat. 

Alcina straightened from her crouch between Elena’s knees, standing to lord over her. “Speak, child.”

Her eyes darted back to the Lady, trailing slowly, reluctantly up her towering form. She found herself pinned beneath the embers burning in her golden stare, flaring brighter the longer Elena went without replying. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good girl,” Alcina retorted, though her eyes still held some heat. She held Elena’s gaze. “When Mommy asks you a question, she expects an answer. Do you understand?”

She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself, tone coming across sulky. “Yes, Mommy.”

Only belatedly did Elena have the capacity to regret the motion, taking note of the dark shift in the Lady’s eyes as she climbed onto the bed, draping herself over Elena—not bringing her full weight down, but just enough to pin her there. She hovered inches above her with a casual menace, weight braced on her forearm, hand tangling in Elena’s hair and tugging it to force them to make eye contact.

“Listen to me,” Alcina said firmly, carefully, as if speaking to a naughty child. “You will not roll your eyes at Mommy again, little girl. Understood?”

Her earlier distress threatened to come rushing back, familiar panic roiling in her veins. When her eyes closed, she could still feel the ghost of a strong hand around her neck. So, she forced her eyes back open, biting at her lip to swallow back the wounded noise that threatened to slip out. She was paralyzed by the possibility of punishment in that tone, shrinking but unable to squirm. The air between them was heavy, tense, sealed in by a curtain of long, inky hair.

When no immediate response came, her free hand came up to gently caress Elena’s cheek. A large thumb stroked from the corner of her mouth, tugging her teeth from her lip. “Elena,” her name oozed from the Lady’s lips. “Mommy grows tired of repeating herself. Answer me.”

It took her far too long to remember how to speak, but eventually a high, nervous noise escaped her. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Alcina praised, but made no move to release her. “And?”

Elena stared, throat working nervously. “…And?”

Rather than being angered at her cluelessness, the Lady seemed amused. She leaned in closer, their noses brushing, so close that they were breathing the same air; all Elena could see was her golden eyes and the crease of her crow’s feet when she smiled. “What should good girls do when they do something wrong?”

Her mind raced, thoughts slow to catch up—

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” she said after a long moment, eyes closing to shut out the sharp stare and disregard the warm breath mingling with her own. Her voice wavered, weak, wobbly. “I didn’t mean to, I…I was just—”

The hand on her cheek shifted, carefully covering her mouth to silence her rambling. 

Elena’s eyes snapped back open, staring up at the Lady, who was smiling down at her. The expression held a familiar, strange quirk to it that sent a warning chill down Elena’s spine. 

“Shh,” Alcina hushed, leaning down further to press a kiss to the back of her hand, their noses brushing; a motion that made Elena gasp against her palm. “Your sisters will be here soon. What do you think they will see?”

The thought of the impending return of the three daughters made anxiety thrum in her veins. She registered the Lady’s words with a racing heart, trying to see herself as they would—naked but for the towel, hair askew, pinned beneath the bulk of the Lady and blushing deeply; a mess, simply put. 

She tried to squirm, making a noise of protest under her palm.

“Smart girl,” the Lady hummed, pressing her body weight down harder until Elena was forced to still, breathing unsteadily out of her nose. The Lady drank in with a mocking little smile. “Are you going to be good for Mommy? Do you want her to get you ready for bed?”

Mouth still covered and hair grasped in a tight fist, she couldn’t do much beyond giving a positive hum.

Satisfied, the Lady slowly leaned back, easing back on her hips to stare down at Elena—ruffled by the treatment, hair loose and messy around her shoulders, a flush disappearing beneath the towel draped over her chest. After a moment, she let go of the hand over Elena’s mouth.

“Convince me.”

Elena looked blankly up at her, confused. “…How?”

Alcina smiled, sharp and full of bad ideas, plucking pointedly at the edge of the towel. “Ask Mommy to get you ready for bed.”

All of her breath left her lungs. “I—”

“Quickly, now,” the hand in her hair drew back slightly, playing with the wet ends, twirling them around large fingers with deliberate casualness. “Your sisters will be here soon. Or would you prefer an audience?”

That concept made her jolt, but the Lady stilled her, waiting with an expectant expression.

Elena had become used to being forcibly diapered and dressed like a child, as much as it shattered her ego to admit it. But being forced to ask for it was cruel, awful—a familiar but no less mortifying punishment at this point. It was another boundary she would be forced to break herself, another concession given.

But in the end, she had no choice. The Lady had no qualms with the alternative, would probably delight in it—so Elena’s fate was in her own hands, in words that made her cringe, trembling like a startled rabbit, something dark twisting deep inside of her once more.

“Please,” she begged, the single word hard to speak, panic forcing it from her chest in unsteady bursts. 

Alcina cocked her head like a curious cat, eyes blazing. “Please what, sweet girl? What do you need from Mommy?”

Revulsion coiled in her stomach—at the Lady, at the circumstance, but more importantly, at herself.

“Please, Mommy,” she begged, low and shameful, stuttering over every word. “Would you please get me ready for bed?”

“I suppose I may consider it,” Alcina murmured, smiling, but made no move to do so. 

Confused and anxious, Elena squirmed beneath her. “Please.”

“You’re adorable when you beg, darling,” she acknowledged, leaning in once more to press a lingering kiss to Elena’s cheek, then whispering lowly in her ear. “But Mommy wants something else from you now. Can you take a guess?”

The possibilities in that sentence terrified her, and her stomach dropped down into the cellar. She felt her eyes widen, body stiffening with fear. “I-I don’t know?”

The hand in her hair let go, and instead Alcina tapped her cheek pointedly.

That was—

Much better than what her traitorous brain conjured up, and the relief had her sagging.

Turning her brain off, she leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek once again. Then, dropping quickly backwards, eyes closing so she didn’t have to take in the pleased smirk, begged once again. “Please, I’d like to get dressed now.”

A laugh rumbled through Alcina, but it was pleased, light and happy.

“Sweet girl,” a kiss was dropped to the tip of her nose. “Come, then. Let’s get you ready.”

“Mother!”

Freshly changed and dressed, Elena was sitting on the bathroom vanity having her teeth brushed by the time Daniela burst through the door to the Lady’s ensuite, hair dripping all over her dark nightgown. 

“A moment, darling,” Alcina said, kissing the top of Elena’s head and leaving the toothbrush in her mouth. 

Daniela giggled as the Lady lifted a towel from the rack, dumping it on top of her head and drying her hair with aggressive zeal. “It seems I’ve got two children who need help,” Alcina sighed, but it was good-humored. “I admire your enthusiasm, Daniela, but I expect you to dry yourself properly next time. Or shall I send Bela to help you next time?”

At that, the redhead protested viscerally. “No, Mother! I can do it myself!”

“Good,” the Lady released the towel on her head, satisfied that she had squeezed the worst of it out of her hair. She patted Daniela’s head, smiling at the way she leaned into the touch like a puppy seeking attention. “Now, be a darling and go wait in bed for us. Your sister and I will be there shortly.”

“Yes, Mother!”

In an instant, she swarmed away.

Elena startled when the Lady turned back to her, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth with a tut. She flushed darkly when the slightly crooked bristles were waved in front of her face—she hadn’t even realized she was chewing on it.

Alcina’s eyes crinkled. “You shouldn’t be teething on that, silly girl.”

Her stomach sank at the word teething, her old friends humiliation and mortification flooding through her. She opened her mouth to try and garble out a denial, but all that resulted in was toothpaste foam spilling down her chin.

As always, the sight made the Lady’s lip quirk even as she cleaned her up. “See, this is why you need Mommy’s help.”

Surprisingly, Elena found herself free of the Lady’s lap and her restraints for once—though it was not necessarily better.

The girls were scattered around the bed like guard dogs, all dressed for bed but seemingly having no intention of sleeping. Instead, with Cassandra reclined languidly on her left, Bela perched carefully on her right and Daniela sprawled happily across all of their thighs, Elena felt very much restrained all the same.

Unconcerned with her predicament, the Lady left her to the care of her daughters as she sat at her vanity, running a brush through her hair and applying a series of creams to her face to prepare herself for bed. 

Elena fiddled anxiously with the familiar fox plushie that had been forced into her arms by the Lady. The other two plushies were being studied by an amused Cassandra, who had claimed Elena’s usual spot in the bed like she owned it—something that made her face sour, then made her frustrated at herself for being annoyed by it. 

“You make such interesting faces,” Cassandra purred, meeting Elena’s half-glare with dark, fluttering eyelashes. She wiggled the lion in Elena’s face, a smirk tugging her lip. “These are cute, baby sister. Friend of yours?”

A familiar feeling of indignation rushed through her—she didn’t want it, hadn’t chosen it for any particular reason, but having it childishly coaxed in her face and the word friend dripping off of Cassandra’s lips with mocking made her puff up with anger.

“Mine,” she said, snatching it out of her hands, scowling as she clutched it closer. “Not yours.”

“Oh,” Cassandra leaned in closer, studying her like she was a delicious appetizer. “Look, sisters, the little one has some bite.”

All eyes descended on her, even the Lady’s through the reflection of her vanity—four sets of predatory gold, scrutinizing her angry flush and death grip on the lion plushie. The interest in the room skyrocketed, tension thick.

Abruptly, Elena realized what she had done with horror.

She dropped the lion plushie into her lap as if burned. “I didn’t mean to—”

Cassandra reached out, hand cupping the curve of her cheek. A polished black nail traced along the seam of Elena’s lips like a talon, dragging the bottom lip down slowly until they revealed the blunt edges of a canine tooth. She flashed one of her own in a smirk, the edge far sharper. “Don’t be shy, I like it when my prey has teeth. I can show you how to use them, if you’d like.”

Something sparked to life in Elena’s shoulder at the reminder, the scarring mark on her neck throbbing with a heartbeat of its own at the memory of sharp teeth piercing the skin. Her nerves lit up like a live wire, and her breath froze, mouth opening unconsciously as the thumb began to toy with her tooth, breaching the loose seal of her mouth.

Her heart raced, loud enough she was sure all of the girls could hear it threatening to burst from her chest.

Cassandra’s eyes were blown out, dark and full of promise. “Do I make you nervous, sister?”

The finger in her mouth pressed down, hard, shifting from her tooth to her tongue. Elena’s eyes slammed shut at the casual touch, a shiver working up her spine. Her throat worked hard, tongue twitching. Cassandra allowed her no leeway. Instead Elena could only whimper, salivating under the dark gaze and firm touch. 

From her vanity, the Lady made a low, warning snarl. “Enough.”

Cassandra ducked her head as if chastened, but was unable to hide the self-satisfied smile on her face. She obediently pulled her hand back and reclined back into the pillows instead, ignoring Daniela’s whining and Bela’s scowl. She sucked her spit-slick thumb into her own mouth, winking at a wide-eyed Elena.

“Remember our discussion, Cassandra,” Alcina rumbled, eyes narrow as she slowly resumed applying a thin cream to her face. “Otherwise we’ll be reliving our time in the cellar together, yes?”

At that, Cassandra had the decency to wince. “Yes, Mother. As you say.”

Alcina huffed, but said nothing else.

“It’s not fair,” Daniela grumbled, coiling like a jealous serpent over all of their legs, gripping Bela’s calves so tight between her hands that the eldest hissed through her teeth down at her little sister.

Cassandra lapped one final time at her thumb, pointedly. “Jealous, Dani?”

Bela reached behind Elena, smacking Cassandra solidly on the back of the head—studiously ignoring her deliberate moan—and then hissing down at Daniela. “That’s enough, you two.”

Daniela hissed back, swarming into a new position—this time on her belly between Elena’s legs, face pressed into her soft stomach through her nightdress, arms wrapped around her hips in a hug. She inhaled deeply, voice muffled but petulant. “You smell so good, baby sister.”

Elena startled out of her statue-like state, the fox in her arms slipping to drape itself over the back of Daniela’s shoulders. Their colors almost matched, and both were equally floppy. “Thanks?”

“You’re so warm,” Daniela praised again, nuzzling closer and completely uncaring about being pelted by a plushie. “Play with my hair again.”

It was a demand, not a question.

Elena was getting better at following those, reaching out and setting her hand on Daniela’s head after only a few moments of hesitation. The simple touch, her fingers carding through her hair, were enough to make the girl in her lap melt, squeezing her around the middle tighter like Elena was the plushie.

“Mother,” Daniela groaned, shivering as Elena’s fingers brushed through her hair, smoothing the ends over her back and fingers massaging close to her scalp. “Can we keep her forever?”

Elena paused at the request, heart skipping a beat.

“…Don’t ask silly things,” the Lady retorted after a moment, eyes sliding over them in the mirror—and Elena did not miss the lingering look that Bela and the Lady shared, something ambiguous in it that made her skin prickle. 

Daniela cracked an eye open, whining. “You stopped.”

Unsettled, Elena slowly continued to rake her trembling fingers through the girl’s hair, mind whirling. She knew what it felt like to be talked around, could taste the conspiracy thick in the air even if she was missing some of the pieces. What would it mean to be kept forever, she wondered, and the words rang true with something Cassandra had said to her, the echoing for now in the face of her humanity—

Some of the fear must have shown on her face, because Bela leaned into her shoulder, her hand gently running up and down her back. “You’re okay.”

Her tongue still tingled and her mind still surged, but with the hand on her back and arms around her, Elena sucked in an unsteady breath and forced herself to relax. Bela was calm waters, warm hands and careful smiles, and there was a piece of Elena that didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Eventually, the Lady finished her own preparations and joined them on the bed.

She reclaimed her spot on the right, dragging Bela into her lap instead. It was a sight that made Elena stare strangely. Though she knew logically the Lady was affectionate with her daughters, she had never seen her be so with Bela—it was hard to marry the vision of Bela as the responsible miniature ruler of the Castle with the red-faced girl who relaxed in the cage of her mother’s arms.

Misinterpreting her stare, the Lady patted her head. “Don’t be jealous, little one. You have to share Mommy’s affections sometimes, if you recall.”

“I wasn’t—”

Cassandra nudged her, smirking. “You can climb into my lap if you’re jealous.”

“No,” Elena denied immediately, giving her a dirty look that made Cassandra cackle, eyelashes fluttering. Then, more for the Lady’s benefit than Cassandra’s, tacked on a token, “Thank you.”

“You could sit in mine?” Daniela offered innocently, still in Elena’s lap—she had shuffled restlessly some time ago and now laid on her side, head pressed across Elena’s thighs and curled up like a cat, the lion plushie and red fox wrapped in her arms.

A little kinder to Daniela than Cassandra, Elena gently patted her head. “I’m okay, Dani. Thank you.”

Daniela just melted further into her, making a happy sound at the attention. She stealthily rubbed her cheek against the soft skin of Elena’s thighs, focusing in on a strip where the hem of her dress had shifted to bare a flash of skin.

Elena swallowed a gasp, shoulders tensing when Daniela’s lips brushed ever so slightly against her skin.

The motion remained unnoticed as a knock stole the attention of all the Ladies, Daniela included. The Lady bid them entrance, and three pairs of gleaming eyes alighted on the group of maids as they entered, pushing a familiar dining cart. 

Elena found herself pulled into Cassandra’s side, a low rumble caught in the brunette’s throat.

The Lady smiled, amused by the posturing. “Be nice to the help, girls.”

The brooch on the lead maid’s collar confirmed her status as a senior maid, but Elena did not need to see the insignia to know her role. It was obvious in the way her shoulders stayed square and back straight, despite being under four predatory pairs of eyes and within the metaphorical dragon’s den. Though, she could not quite hide the fine trembles in her hands or tightness around her face.

The senior maid dipped into a bow, voice and eyes low. “Your evening nightcap, My Ladies.”

Alcina seemed amused by their fear, rather than offended. “On the side table, if you would.”

“Yes, My Lady,” the maid replied, taking a serving tray of wine glasses and a bottle of wine from the cart—Elena recognized the label as one of the normal house vintages, not the over-embellished Sanguis Virginis bottle. 

She was joined by Gabriela, whose hands shook as she carried the familiar, polished silver tray behind her. 

Daniela was hawk-eyed as the two maids approached, her head lifting from Elena’s thighs, practically vibrating with barely-restrained interest. “Mother,” she said, voice low, lilting, full of bad ideas. 

“No, darling,” Alcina replied, reaching out to pat her head. “There is to be no snacks in Mother’s bed tonight.”

The senior maid faltered, throat bobbing heavily, but ultimately managed to skirt the bed without being grabbed by a dark-eyed Daniela. Her hand did betray her a little when Daniela made a show of pretending to jump towards her, snapping her teeth. She jumped, the glasses and bottle of wine clanking, ringing awfully and swaying, but ultimately not falling.

The sound made Bela’s eyes narrow. “Careful, Maria.”

“Yes, of course, Lady Bela,” the senior maid said, cringing—they all knew if she had dropped them, she would have been dragged to the cellar by her hair already. “My apologies.”

Without further incident, Maria managed to place the glasses and bottle down on the side table. She carefully filled each glass with wine, the pour carefully executed under the Ladies’ watchful eyes. Once done, she tucked the serving tray under her arm, bowing respectfully once more, then backing up towards the cart without a further word.

That left Gabriela to approach, who was pale as the grave, hands trembling awfully. 

Daniela sniffed the air with considerably more interest as Gabriela followed in Maria’s trail, prowling a little closer as if she was going to try and jump her instead. The motion panicked Elena, who despite everything still cared for Gabriela—soft spoken, mousey, kind—and did not want her to end up just another vintage in the cellar.

She reached out urgently, snatching the hem of Daniela’s dress. “Big sister?”

Daniela froze, head turning so fast that were she a normal human she would have given herself whiplash. She peered at Elena, eyes wide and vibrating with pleasure, focus now tunnel-visioned on her instead. “Yes, baby sister?”

She could feel the interest of the Dimitrescu family and the maids on her, especially as Gabriela shuffled quickly to the bedside table and placed the covered tray down, bowing and stepping away despite the fact nobody was looking at her. Her eyes found Elena’s over Daniela’s shoulder, relieved, grateful.

“I—” Elena didn’t really know what to say. So, despite her reservations, offered the only thing she could. “Could I sit on your lap now?”

The answer was a swarm spilling around her, dragging her swiftly from Cassandra’s arms with the flutter of hundreds of excited insect wings—the sensation made her skin crawl, but she kept her thoughts off of her face. Especially when Daniela reformed behind her, braced against the cushions, her hands gripping Elena by the hips and dragging her backwards.

“Yes,” Daniela purred, excitement and something more layered in her tone, tempered only by the presence of her family in the room. “Come here, baby sister. Let me hold you.”

Elena allowed herself to be arranged into her lap, lifted easily by Daniela’s superior strength. “T-Thank you!”

Daniela just purred again in response, literally this time—a layered, rumbling sound deep in her chest that moved through both of them. She wrapped her arms around Elena, looping around her waist and squeezing her like a teddy bear. Her legs came to rest on the outside of Elena’s, the length of their calves pressing together. Her head dipped into the crook of Elena’s neck, chin resting over the bandaged bite, though she felt no pain.

“Is this okay?” Daniela asked, and Elena was surprised to hear a thread of nerves behind the excitement.

Elena wiggled slightly, tugging on one of the arms to loosen the hold so she could breathe slightly. “It’s good.”

The other Dimitrescu women observed the exchange with interest, and Elena was amused to note that Cassandra looked a little put out by Elena being stolen and by the fact that she wasn’t asked to hold her. In a rare moment of playfulness and daring, Elena reached down to grasp one of Daniela’s hands, linking it with her own and pulling it up to press a kiss to the knuckles—she smirked over the top of them at a scowling Cassandra, watching her eyes darken.

Perhaps it was ill-advised to mess with someone like Cassandra, especially when she could still vaguely taste her dark nail polish and could feel the press of her thumb on her tongue. But she relished in the way Daniela coiled tighter around her, protective and over-excited. She knew that there was nothing that Cassandra could do to take revenge right now—and, childishly, she stuck her tongue out.

“Mother,” Cassandra said, surprise turning into a leer, eyes black but for the thin inferno around the pupil. “The little one needs to be taught a lesson about respect.”

Elena startled at the words, hastily smoothing her expression as she looked innocently up at the Lady. 

The look on the Lady’s face was amused, darting between them—an expression shared by Bela, who smirked from within her mother’s arms directly at Cassandra.

“Do you now?” Alcina asked, reaching her free hand out to cradle Elena’s cheek.

And though her heart thudded in her chest, she knew that the Lady’s whims could be bent to an extent through affection. Not always, but when she was in a good enough mood—and the light expression on her face told her now was a good time. Though it made her uncomfortable, Elena knew she had the advantage. So, carefully, she turned her head and pressed a kiss to the Lady’s palm. “No, Mommy.”

“Clever girl,” Alcina smirked, fondness in her eyes. She tapped Elena’s cheek once, then let go. “Be nice to your sister.”

“Mother!”

The Lady made a noise of disinterest, looking far too satisfied. “Is there a problem, darling?”

Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, Cassandra wisely chose to back down—there was a grudging respect on her face as she met Elena’s eyes, but it was swiftly buried as she leaned in close to her ear to whisper, ignoring Daniela’s protective growl. “Next time you stick your tongue out at me, you better be prepared to use it.”

Elena swallowed reflexively, but said nothing; her inability to not poke the bear would be the death of her, of that she was certain.

Still, when Gabriela and Maria were dismissed from the room, taking the cart with them, she felt a victorious glow of pleasure. All joking and playfulness aside, she felt relief—she may not have much power among the family, but she had saved Gabriela from what could have been a death sentence, and she felt no shame in that.

“Thank you, darling,” Alcina said, allowing Bela to shift from her lap so she could pick up the largest wine glass, pressing it into her mother’s hand. Bela then passed out the others, one to Cassandra and one to Daniela.

Elena did not earn a glass of her own, but she glanced over to the still-covered tray with barely concealed dread.

“Would you like a sip, baby sister?” Daniela asked, distracting her. She offered the wine glass, which was held in their joined hands. “It’s very tasty, this one’s one of my favorites!”

She eyed it suspiciously, glancing between the wine and the Lady—trying to ascertain whether this vintage held any blood in it. “I don’t know…”

“You may, if you like,” Alcina agreed, smiling at her hesitation. “It is a dessert wine, so your sweet tooth might find it rather pleasing. Though it is rather strong, so only a sip.”

Emboldened, Elena nodded slowly. “…Okay, I’ll try it.”

Delighted, Daniela’s hand raised with her as she slowly brought it to her lips, taking a small sip—it was thick and sweet on her tongue, and she let out a pleased hum as the notes hit her, sweet berries, spices and something like caramel on the back of her tongue. It made her palate sing, warmth spreading through her. She made a soft, pleased noise.

Daniela giggled at her, then leaned further into her shoulder to bring the glass to her lips, right where Elena had placed her own. She drank a few sips, then leaned back licking her lips. “Good wine is better shared,” she said, kissing Elena’s cheek. 

Elena shivered, but allowed it. “It was good.”

“Thank you.” Bela, who had left the safety of the Lady’s lap to sit cross-legged in front of them, smiled as she studied the glass in her own hand. “It was one of the first vintages Mother ever let me try my hand at. I’m glad you like it.”

“You made it?”

Alcina hummed. “Our dearest Bela is quite a dab hand when it comes to wine.”

“I had an excellent tutor, Mother,” Bela replied, a little shy but wearing a radiant smile.

Cassandra drank hers heavily, no delicate sipping. “Very good, sister,” she praised, lapping some of the crimson remnant from her lip. But her eyes were not for Bela, they were heavy on Elena, glimmering with the possibility of revenge. “But what about the little one’s drink? Surely she doesn’t want it cold?”

Elena gaped at her, betrayed. “What? No, I—”

“An excellent point, daughter,” the Lady said, smirking over the top of her own wine glass—the look was mocking, amused, growing in size when Elena’s head whipped back to her. The look was a stark reminder that no matter how much she enjoyed Elena’s rare affections, sometimes her suffering was even richer. “Come here, sweet girl.”

Daniela’s arms stayed stubbornly wrapped around her, and Elena shrank backwards into the hold. “I don’t need it!”

“Oh, such backtalk,” Cassandra continued, hand planted on her chin, the picture of wide-eyed disbelief. It was betrayed by the grin slowly unfurling across her face, the red between her teeth making it look almost feral. “You dare raise your voice at Mother?”

Elena was going to wring her neck.

She stared at Cassandra heatedly, imagining a thousand different ways she could eviscerate her. She may not have had any super powers, but she prayed to any deities listening that she would develop the power to set things on fire with her mind. It would be so worth the punishment.

Cassandra smiled widely back at her, then winked.

“Do we need to have our little discussion again, Elena,” Alcina said, firm, cutting through the tension that swelled between them and jerking Elena’s attention sharply back to her with the usage of her name. “You know how Mommy feels about repeating herself.”

Elena shuddered at the reminder and slowly, regretfully began to climb her way out of Daniela’s arms—ignoring the way the redhead whined and pouted, reluctant to let her go so soon, but similarly forced to bend to the Lady’s will and release her.

“Is it at least in a teacup?” she asked, hopeful, as she eased her way into the Lady’s lap.

The answer was a blithe smile. “Don’t be silly, messy girl.”

Sure enough, when the Lady set her wine down to uncover the silver tray, Elena was unsurprised to find the bottle sitting there awaiting her. However that did not make her rising shame and anger any less potent, especially when she heard the distinct sound of a snicker behind her. She regretted ever saving Cassandra.

“Be a good girl for me,” Alcina said, readjusting her so she was sitting sideways in her lap, facing her smiling sisters. “I expect you to drink all of it.”

She knew it was a deliberate action, chosen to maximize her humiliation, because it forced her to turn around instead of the much easier route of letting her keep facing in the same direction. The girls all knew it too, based on the way Cassandra’s eyes gleamed and Daniela giggled. At least Bela was blank-faced, but her eyes were studying Elena, her mother and the bottle with single-minded intensity, the wine in her hand forgotten.

Elena’s face must have been redder than her hair, and she began to squirm—at least until the Lady pinched her thigh, making her squeak and fall still again. She shut her eyes, feeling tears building behind them. 

“Shh,” Alcina soothed, kissing her forehead. “Lean back.”

Whining with displeasure, she leaned into the crook of her arm. It was a familiar pose, curled up with her cheek coaxed to rest on the top of the Lady’s chest. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to make eye contact with anybody if she was going to be forced to drink the tea in front of them. She coiled up slightly more in shame, hands balling up into angry fists in her dress.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised, heedless of her thoughts. “Now, open your mouth for Mommy.”

She felt the insistent press of the bottle at her lips, and had the briefest thought to deny it. Perhaps to knock it out of the Lady’s hand, seeing as her wrists were unbound for once. But she deliberately let the thoughts slip away. She was slowly and painfully learning the value of when to resist and when to cede to the family’s whims.

The Lady made a pleased noise when Elena opened her mouth with minimal fuss, allowing the nipple of the bottle to be pressed between her lips. She smiled even further when Elena sealed her mouth to preempt any embarrassing spills, beginning to slowly drink it of her own volition.

“See, darlings,” Alcina said loftily, as if this was something that was done in front of company regularly. “Your baby sister is such a good girl for me.”

Daniela vibrated with interest, shifting closer to study Elena over her mother’s shoulder. “Could I try, Mother?”

Elena opened her eyes, panic clear across her face despite the slight glaze in her eyes. The frantic beating of her heart was like a drum in her ear, erratic next to the calm, steady thump of the Lady’s against her ear. She loosened the seal of her mouth a little to protest the idea, but the Lady just used the opportunity to push it deeper into her mouth, smiling indulgently down at her as she squeezed a mouthful directly down her throat.

“Not yet, Daniela,” she said, gently brushing strands of hair away from Elena’s face as she coughed and spluttered. “She needs time to get used to it first.”

Cassandra swirled the rest of her wine in her glass, then downed it with a smile. “Cheers, little sister!”

Already halfway through the bottle, Elena was rapidly weakening, body beginning to go limp. But she fought against the medicinal tea long enough to catch Cassandra’s eye in her peripheral, glowering at her despite her humiliation. 

The answer was another smirk.

Elena huffed through her nose, closing her eyes once more and leaning more heavily into the Lady. She hated that some moments she genuinely liked Cassandra and then other moments she wanted to kill her—she was not a person who had ever committed violence, but Cassandra seemed to bring out the worst in her. The bite mark on her neck twinged slightly, as if in sympathy.

But eventually, her frustration gave way to exhaustion, then to numbness, and she barely registered the Lady pulling the bottle from between her lips and pressing something else in before she fell into a deep sleep, surrounded by warmth on all sides.

Chapter Text

Elena stirred slowly, reluctantly.

The pillows were soft and comfortable beneath her, and she nosed further into them with a little hum. She kept her eyes closed, wholly unwilling to be awake. She vaguely processed the familiar weight of Daniela wrapped around her back like a boa constrictor, slow breaths puffing against her neck. The weight of her was oddly nice, comforting. She sunk into the feeling, head fuzzy and limbs heavy.

She dozed for what may have been minutes or hours, somewhere pleasant between awake and asleep. But eventually Daniela shifted, wedging her knee a little further between Elena’s thighs and driving her attention downwards, whimpering at the sensation of a wet diaper pressing into her.

“Finally awake?” Alcina asked, cupping her cheek as her eyes fluttered.

Elena blinked slowly, the cogs in her brain taking a moment to begin to turn—and she realized abruptly that the pillows were not pillows, but that somehow through the night she had buried herself face-down in the Lady’s chest. Startled, she tried to sit up, but was pinned by the heavy body draped over her back, her arms too weak to push herself up and instead just weakly fisting in the Lady’s nightdress.

She squirmed against Daniela’s weight, trying to speak—only to realize there was something in her mouth.

Dual sources of distress overcame her; fear and discomfort welling in her chest and making her cry out, muffled against the obstruction.

“No, little one,” the Lady’s thumb shifted, pressing the object back between her lips when Elena tried to spit it out. “Leave it.”

Elena shook her head unsteadily, going cross-eyed to try to see what it was, mostly succeeding in making herself slightly dizzy. It was bright blue and pressed strangely against her lips. More importantly, it had a bulb-like protrusion that was pressed between her teeth and tongue, muffling any attempts to talk. It felt squishy and strange, too thick for her to bite through.  

She worked her jaw, tea-addled thoughts taking far too long to piece together what it was. But when they finally caught up, she jerked her head to the side and spat it out before the Lady could stop her.

Alcina sighed, picking up the pacifier from her chest. “What did I just tell you?”

Elena remained unmoved by the sharp tone, too busy whining in discomfort and embarrassment. She tilted her head this way and that, lips pursing when the Lady tried to push it back into her mouth. “Stop,” Elena whined, voice sleep-thick and slurring, muffled as she turned to push her face deeper into the Lady’s chest instead. “I’m not a child.”

“And yet you consistently prove the opposite,” Alcina retorted firmly, attention shifting over Elena’s shoulder. “Daniela, darling. If you would?”

Elena gasped when hands caught her cheeks, forcing her head to tilt back so she couldn’t dodge away from the pacifier. She tried to shake Daniela off, but was too weak. Even on a good day, she had zero hope of overpowering any of the sisters—and today was not a very good day.

“Be good,” Daniela murmured sleepily, nuzzling affectionately behind her ear. 

Despite her struggles, the pacifier was pushed back through her lips. Her eyes swelled with frustration as it was forced between her clenched teeth, but she was unsuccessful in her attempts to spit it back out again. The Lady just sealed her palm over her lips until she stopped struggling, breathing harshly through her nose, humiliated tears slipping down her cheeks.

“You’re safe, Mommy has you,” Alcina murmured soothingly, echoing the same soundtrack she had the night before. She wiped away the tears with deceptively gentle hands. “I am so proud of you.”

Elena hated the strange curl in her chest at the words. The weight of affection instead of anger made her skin prickle, ran counter to what she expected and disarmed her so efficiently that she did not know how to process it. She pushed at the Lady’s chest, desperate for space to recover. She felt suffocated, overwhelmed but unable to voice it.

The Lady held her tighter, unwilling to let her go. “Shh, it’s far too early for waterworks and tantrums, darling.”

She struggled a little more, weak kicks and pushes, but was unable to get free. All she could do was protest, muffled by the pacifier and tremulous from the tears. “Mmgh!”

Cassandra yawned at her mother’s side, stretching her arms high above her head and then leaning to flop more bodily onto Bela with a groan—startling the still sleeping sister awake with a disgruntled noise. Her hair was a mess, eyes lidded. “Mm, the baby’s so noisy. Is she always like this?”

“She’s just a little upset,” Alcina brushed more tears from Elena’s face, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “She’ll be fine soon enough.”

Bela sat up, rolling a floppy Cassandra off of her and blinking away any traces of sleep. “Can I help, Mother?”

“Would you care to pick your sister’s attire for the day?” Alcina replied, smiling with thankfulness at her eldest daughter. “I think something comfortable would be best.”

That made Bela’s eyes light up, followed by Daniela’s—who sat up eagerly from Elena’s back to stare at her sister as she swarmed off towards the wardrobe that held all of the ‘baby’ clothes. Her head swiftly turned back to her mother, pleading. “Me too! I want to help!”

“You’re all too noisy,” Cassandra groaned theatrically, face down in the pillows. 

“Of course, Daniela, go help your sister.”

Elena sucked in a sharp, relieved breath when Daniela swarmed off of her back. She capitalized on the opportunity, trying to scramble free from the Lady. She managed to wiggle halfway off before she was swiftly captured by the armpits. The Lady adjusted her like a doll, shuffling herself to sit up against the pillows and then arranging Elena into a familiar position across her lap.

She shuddered in revulsion as it pushed the diaper into her, eyes watering with indignant tears she refused to let shed. She dug her teeth sharply into the pacifier to swallow them back. Her rational thoughts were returning, awareness heightening as adrenaline and fury flushed the lingering drugs from her system.

“That’s it, sweet girl, no need to cry,” Alcina cooed, lip quirking at the dour look she got in response. 

Elena huffed, but reluctantly kept the pacifier in her mouth despite every part of her screaming to remove it. The Lady would only push it on her in new and creatively cruel ways if she spat it out now, this much she knew. Though knowing that did not make it any easier.

The Lady reached up to touch the pacifier, ignoring her flinch. “It suits you.”

She seemed content when Elena didn’t make a move to spit it immediately back out. She hooked her index finger into the ring at the front, wiggling it slightly side-to-side. Whether it was to test her or make fun of her, she hummed in pleasure when Elena allowed the violation with nothing more than another irritable huff.

“Very good,” Alcina praised, tugging the ring gently to bring Elena’s eyes to meet her own. “I expect you to keep it here until Mommy takes it out. Understood?”

Elena’s brow furrowed, studying the lines in the Lady’s face and set of her shoulders. As always, her captor remained hard to truly read. Was it just a power play, or did she truly intend to make Elena carry it around all day? Was it just another shove onto a slippery slope in pursuit of something worse? Or did the Lady just enjoy making her upset?

As always, she had so many questions and infuriatingly few answers.

Elena realized belatedly that the Lady was still waiting for her answer, the intensity building in golden eyes making the hair at the back of her neck prickle. She quickly nodded—teeth digging into the pacifier tightly when the Lady made no move to release the ring, struggling to keep it cemented in her mouth.

It was like a switch flipped, ferocity fading to fondness. “Clever girl. Are you ready to get up now?”

Her stomach grumbled, a reminder that the soup she’d had for dinner and the bedtime tea weren’t the most robust meals. Breakfast seemed like a heavenly idea. But unfortunately she had a more pressing concern, her hands coming down to clutch the hem of her dress in anxiety, eyes skirting away.

Observing her discomfort, the Lady lifted the hem of her dress, ignoring her squeak. “Poor thing,” she made an understanding hum. “It’s okay, Mommy will get you cleaned up first.”

Though it was never a process she enjoyed, the concept seemed excessively daunting with the present company in mind.

Her eyes darted self-consciously to Cassandra, still sprawled, now with a pillow over her head. Then to Daniela, who had at least five different outfits in her hands and was explaining to a bemused Bela in extreme detail why each one was absolutely essential, but then changing her mind every time the eldest tried to pick one.

Did the Lady mean to do it here? With an audience?

She shook her head sharply in denial, making a low, wretched noise.

Though she did want to free herself from the disgusting sensation pressed into her lower half, she wanted to do so privately. Regardless of the fact that the girls had seen her naked, seen the diaper, seen her in far more situations than she ever wanted to think about—this was worse. It felt like she stood at the precipice of a new world of torture, and the possibilities in that terrified her.

The Lady read the distress building in her eyes. “It’s nothing to be nervous about, little one. Pay your sisters no mind.”

Elena shook her head aggressively, thoughts racing, adrenaline rocketing through her. She debated the merits of trying to run, despite knowing she wouldn’t get anywhere and it would just make it worse. Fight or flight thrummed in her chest like a living thing, demanding action.

The Lady caught the frantic look in her eyes, her arm barring swiftly over Elena’s thighs and locking her in place. When she made a noise of distress, a gentle kiss was pressed to the crown of her head. “Mommy may be persuaded to change you elsewhere. Are you going to be a good girl for me today? No more crying or tantrums?”

Surging with relief, she nodded far too eagerly despite any reservations—she would kiss the ground the Lady walked on if it spared her the cruelty of the alternative. Perhaps she was bargaining with the devil, but sometimes a deal was better than none at all. 

And the devil smiled back, all teeth. “Mommy takes promises very seriously. Do you give your word?”

Elena did not like the implication in her tone, it spoke of promises with weight; things written in oaths that promised very real consequences if one broke them. It was a tone that gave her second thoughts, hesitations. But all she had left was her pride, what dregs remained. If she had to prop her shaky barricades up with such promises, then she would do what she must.

Cautiously, she reached out and caught the Lady’s hand in her smaller one, curling tight around a few of her fingers. The motion was childish, gentle, sweet as she could stomach. Then she squeezed, watching the edge fall away from the smile, ice ease from the Lady’s eyes.

And perhaps she had to dig her teeth deeply into the pacifier to stomach her own actions, gnawing at it like a tense dog. But with a slow squeeze and widened eyes, she nodded pointedly, as if sealing a pact.

“My, my,” Alcina hummed, smiling indulgently, honey-colored eyes on their joined hands. “You are learning well, sweet girl.”

A small curl of self-satisfaction thrummed in her chest. If she was to be a daughter, she would prove that she could learn by observation. She may not be able to outmaneuver the master, but the Lady accepted the inelegant manipulation with a fond smile.

Alcina laughed at her smug smile. “Come along, then.”

And when she shifted from the bed to stand, taking Elena with her, it felt a little like victory.

She was in hell.

“Come, sweetheart, don’t look so upset,” Alcina coaxed, massaging the furrow between her eyebrows with her thumb as she smothered a laugh. “You asked for this, did you not?”

Elena gave her a blank stare back, too annoyed to be upset and unable to say the vulgarities that she desperately wanted to because the pacifier was still cemented between her teeth—though she was making solid work at trying to wear their imprints into the overly tough rubber. 

The child’s playroom was no less offensive than when she had last left it. Perhaps more so, because there were brand new additions to the room that had appeared overnight. One in particular was the source of her ire, and she stared at it like it was a torture rack.

“The Duke works wonders when sufficiently motivated, as he should for the amount of my lei that goes to his coffers,” Alcina explained, catching her wary look. “He does have a knack for timing, I must admit. I did not think we would require the use of this for some time. Fortuitous, no?”

Elena liked the Duke. More than once he’d shared meals with her or given her work to do for coin. For many years, he had been a jovial presence in her life, willing to give strangely accurate advice. Up until recently, she still spent the majority of her paycheck with him. But now, she was never giving him money ever again.

Because really? Where did he even get this stuff?

“Remember your promise,” Alcina cautioned, watching the emotions war across her face. She set Elena down on the brand new changing table, basically a short elevated bed covered in thick padding, above a set of drawers and cubbies. “Be good.”

The implied or else was delivered with a kiss on her cheek.

Elena scowled, but lifted her arms to allow her dress to be pulled over her head with as much dignity as she could muster—which was not a lot. She covered her chest up again, twisting the pacifier nervously between her teeth. But the Lady did not seem to take offense, pausing to study her with an amused little smile as she coiled up over herself like a bug.

Rather than changing her immediately, the Lady began the familiar routine of checking over her wounds. She started with the bite mark on her shoulder, peeling off the sticky adhesive and studying the wound below.

“Remind me to punish that daughter of mine one more time,” she growled, running her fingertips over raised pink scars. They tingled where she traced, making Elena shudder. “It’s healed nicely, but you are not to allow your sisters so much as a taste, am I clear?”

Shying away from her intense gaze, Elena nodded—she had zero intentions of a repeat performance if she could avoid it.

A kiss was pressed over the marks. “Good girl.”

Ignoring Elena’s self-consciousness, the Lady moved down her torso and further, removing the remaining bandages as she went. Her healing was better than expected, enough that the Lady decided she did not need any more bandages, only applying a thin layer of tingling cream to help the scarring. Even her feet were declared healed enough, which made Elena wiggle her toes with excitement, eager to test them out.

After all of her wounds were tended to, the Lady instead turned her attention to the much more pressing need. Her diaper was removed, making her sigh through her nose with relief. She was then cleaned and a fresh one fixed over her hips, something she reluctantly found pleasant, but only because it was miles better than the cold and wet one.

Once done, the Lady helped her down. “Slowly,” Alcina coaxed, easing Elena to stand, bare feet finding the soft rug. Her knees wobbled, but held. “Any pain?”

Elena shook her head mutely. She was a little unsteady, but it felt good to stand, stiff muscles enjoying being used for the first time in a few days. She allowed the Lady to hold her hands for balance as she found her feet, stretching her calves and feet carefully, groaning low in her throat at the pleasant sensation.

“You seem happy,” Alcina mused, watching closely. “Perhaps I will take you on a walk today.”

Elena’s head perked up, intrigued but suspicious.

A walk sounded amazing, but the snow outside was still too thick to dare for an outdoor walk. She knew a leisurely stroll through the castle was much more likely, and during the day time that virtually guaranteed running across staff—a possibility that terrified her.

Her emotions dueled inside her chest, but she did not get to dwell on them overly long before a knock came at the door. The sound startled her, and her knees buckled slightly in surprise. 

Alcina caught her by the elbows, chuckling. “It’s okay, Mommy will always catch you.”

She truly had a way of making comfort sound menacing.

The door pushed open. It could only be one of the daughters, they were the only ones who would dare to enter the room without waiting for  an invitation. Point proven when Bela stepped inside carrying a bundle of clothing. She paused briefly at the sight of Elena on her feet, head tilting.

Elena was sharply reminded of her nakedness. Flushing, she shifted behind the Lady’s leg to try and cover herself up.

“Come here, Bela,” Alcina permitted, waving her in. “Your sister is doing a lot better, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

She stayed mute, eyeing Bela like one would a circling shark.

The eldest sister seemed to pick up on her worry, walking slowly and carefully closer, a kind smile on her face. It made her features light up, strangely normal without her preferred dark lipstick or blood painting her face.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, sister,” Bela said, stopping a respectful distance away. She held up the clothing. “Daniela and I picked something for you, would you like to get dressed?”

Elena went to nod, but a hand came down to her mouth instead, hooking into the pacifier ring and pulling it from her lips. The suddenness of it took her off guard, suddenly feeling like there was too much space in her mouth. She looked up at the Lady in askance.

She received a smile. “Answer your sister.”

Blinking, she refocused her gaze on Bela, tongue feeling weirdly clumsy. “I—yes, please.”

She expected the Lady to reach out and take the clothing, but instead she stepped to the side, leaning down to coax Elena forwards with a hand between her shoulders. Surprised, Elena stiffened, bringing her arms up to cover her chest once again.

“Come, darling,” Alcina beckoned, eyes on Bela. “Your sister could use your help.”

A bright look slipped across Bela’s face before it was swiftly buried in a neutral, calmer expression. Her eyes shifted to meet Elena’s, genuine and straightforward in their intent as she held the bundle of clothing. “May I?”

Elena had been dressed by her the day before, of course. But it felt somehow different being asked. 

Again, she thought of Bela—calm, steady, who loved her family intensely but buried many of her thoughts behind an air of neutrality. She could barely recall what her teeth against Elena’s throat felt like at dinner, instead her memories swelled with soft hands combing her hair away from her face, with the secret of the broken apple bowl she’d kept between them, of the passion in her voice as she spoke about her plants and her sisters.

And so, despite her reservations, Elena allowed herself to be disarmed. “…Alright.”

The pleasure was clear across Bela’s face, but she kept it reined in, stepping closer to Elena. She placed the clothing on top of the changing table, then reached out to her. “Is this okay?”

It wasn’t, not really, but Elena allowed Bela to coax her arms away from her chest, the touch respectful and gentle. Bela’s hands found her wrists, thumbs smoothing soothingly over faded bruises, then raised them up so she could pull a simple white shirt over her head. Bela straightened the shirt, then helped her shrug into a loose cardigan, rolling the cuffs slightly when they slipped past her fingertips.

“Almost done,” Bela said, kneeling slowly and running her hand from calf to ankle like one might with an easily-startled horse. 

Elena’s legs tingled with the touches, muscles jumping, but allowed herself to be moved. First socks were rolled on, slippers set aside so Bela could work a pair of pants up her legs. She tried to help her, but the Lady made a warning noise, so Elena busied herself by lifting the hem of the cardigan to study the soft wool with interested fingers. Finally, once her pants were properly secured, she toed into the slippers and wiggled her feet a little.

When it was done, she peered down at Bela, who was still knelt by her feet and studying the slippers to make sure they fit. “Thank you, Bela,” she said unprompted, voice soft and a little shy, feeling strangely vulnerable.

“You’re welcome, sister,” Bela said as she rose, eyes bright and smile radiant. Then, she glanced up at her mother, smile dipping a little bit into something more restrained. “Thank you, Mother, for allowing it.”

Alcina chuckled indulgently, leaning down so she could kiss Bela’s cheek. “Thank you, darling. I am blessed to have such a wonderful daughter.”

Bela’s shoulders hitched upwards a little, but her face was almost childishly pleased. She said nothing, but leaned into the affectionate kiss, sneakily reaching her arms up to hook around her mother’s neck and drawing her into a hug instead. Something the Lady returned with a small chuckle, lingering to whisper something into her ear.

Elena observed the casual affection, surprised. It was a small reminder that the Lady’s touches were not solely borne of some unique obsession, but that she truly enjoyed lavishing all her children with praise and affection behind closed doors. And that no matter how twisted the circumstance, Elena now lived among them.

“Now,” the Lady announced, drawing back and extending a hand to Elena. “Mommy must get herself ready, then we can see about breakfast, hm?”

“Daughters,” Alcina announced with great love and annoyance. “Get out.”

For the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes, Cassandra and Daniela both abandoned any pretense of primping in the mirror, cackling as they swarmed out of the Lady’s ensuite like pests. Elena, face washed and teeth brushed, patiently kicked her feet, fiddling with the bracelet restraints that had been cleaned and placed back on her wrists.

The Lady huffed aggressively, but patted her thigh gently. “Go join your sisters, little one—maybe then Mommy will be able to apply her face in peace.”

Surprised but pleased, Elena seized the opportunity to stretch her legs. “Okay.”

She slipped quietly from the vanity, padding back into the bedroom. There she found Cassandra whispering conspiratorially with Daniela—the eldest was nowhere in sight, having gone to arrange breakfast, leaving her two mischievous sisters to run amok.

Daniela noticed her first, lighting up. “Mother’s finally let you free! And you’re walking,” she swarmed closer, crouching to peer curiously at Elena’s slippers, prodding at her feet. Her head tilted, curious. “I didn’t know you could do that?”

Elena wiggled her toes, nodding absently. “Mommy’s finally decided I’m healed enough.”

“Mommy, hm?” Cassandra purred, circling them like a large cat. 

She froze, ice flowing down the length of the spine, dread filling her. It was a fumble, a dreadful slip—force of habit and inattention driving the words, not genuine intent. All the same, she cringed underneath the sudden intensity of Daniela and Cassandra’s eyes. Not even a minute in the daughters’ company and she wanted to curl up under the bed and never come out.

She opened and closed her mouth. “No, that’s not what I—”

“Your Mommy doesn’t like liars,” Cassandra interrupted, orbiting closer to run her hand teasingly over her shoulders. “And neither do your sisters, do we, Daniela?” 

“No,” Daniela agreed, rising slowly from her crouch with a giggle. “Liars get punished.”

Elena whined low in her throat, backing up unsteadily. “Please, don’t.”

“Shh,” Cassandra cooed, draping herself over Elena’s back and dragging her wrists above her head, forcing her into a strange armlock and keeping her there with supernatural strength regardless of how hard Elena squirmed, making terrified noises. Cassandra’s eyes found Daniela’s, dark and amused. “Would you care to do the honors, sister?”

Daniela grinned, darting forwards with her hands like claws.

Elena shrieked when hands slipped under her shirt, digging into the soft skin of her belly and tickling over her ribcage and waist. She kicked her legs, turning side-to-side to try and squirm away, but found no escape. Daniela just kept up the assault, fingertips teasing her all over, cackling as she sobbed and gasped in her hold.

“Behold, baby sister,” Cassandra cackled in her ear, dodging her headbutt. “Your punishment!”

She shrieked louder. “S-Stop!”

Cassandra shared a grin with Daniela, the younger sister pressing harder into a spot on her side that made Elena’s legs tremble like they were going to collapse. “Not until you say ‘Mommy’ again!” 

Elena couldn’t stop her painful laughter or the tears welling in her eyes. Still, stubbornly refused to say it, fighting against the hold and the tickling hands as best she could. The terror had been replaced by disbelief, the punishment was absurd, utterly inconceivable— 

Daniela dug her fingertips into Elena’s armpits.

“Mommy!” The words burst out of her chest immediately, humiliatingly. “F-Fuck, stop!”

Almost reluctantly, Daniela’s hands withdrew from her shirt, raking teasingly down her torso. Then, with a pleased grin, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to Elena’s cheek, licking the salt from tears away from her cheek. “Aw, you gave in too quickly,” she complained. “I wanted to play with you a little longer.”

“She’s so much fun,” Cassandra agreed, releasing Elena’s wrists and catching her by the waist when her knees buckled. She nuzzled Elena’s head, dodging another headbutt. “See, was that so hard?”

Elena mentally screamed all the obscenities she knew, but was too red-faced and gasping for air to voice them.

Probably for the best, as the Lady emerged from the ensuite, makeup pristine and hair in perfect order. Her eyes found Elena immediately, then the other two daughters, pinning them all with a supremely annoyed look—though there was a calculating gleam to it that told her she had been listening to everything.

“Enough, daughters,” Alcina declared. “To breakfast, before I decide to punish all of you.” 

Elena had the unique pleasure of being able to walk to breakfast herself.

It felt only slightly more dignified than being carried, because she was still expected to hold the Lady’s hand like she was an errant toddler. But the small measure of space was nice. She felt more human like this, dressed in normal clothes and with her hair tidied into a careful bun. The only outward sign of captivity would be the restraints, barely visible under the sleeve cuffs, and the family trailing like lionesses behind her.

Thankfully, the only staff sighting was the flash of a dark bun haphazardly around a corner. Any other maids working were smart enough to make themselves extremely scarce at the sight of the pack of their murderous employers traipsing through the castle on their way to their family breakfast. 

But eventually Daniela and Cassandra grew bored by her meandering pace, swarming off ahead to join Bela in the dining room and abandoning Elena to the Lady once more. The air between them was calm though, the Lady holding her hand tightly and watching her with a small smile.

“I have plans for us after breakfast,” she mentioned into the ensuing quiet of the daughters’ departure. “Would you care to accompany Mommy to the opera hall?”

It was an illusion of choice, of course, but she somewhat appreciated the way it was framed as if seeking her approval.

Elena hummed. “The opera hall?”

“Mm, I thought I might introduce you to one of our family’s favorite pastimes.”

There were rumors that the Lady occasionally holed up in there for hours at a time, but Elena knew very little about what went on behind the closed doors. She imagined something musical, if the room retained some of its original intent. It seemed an innocuous enough request, though those were often the most damaging to her sanity.

Still, she knew there would be no saying no, and the weight of the promise to be good sat like a choke-chain around her throat. So, despite any misgivings Elena might have, she nodded. 

The Lady patted her head, then let go of her hand so she could push open the doors to the dining hall. She had to stoop to get through them, as she did many doors in the castle, and Elena felt a little…strange about it. She wondered what it must be like to have to duck your head so often in your own home.

“Come,” Alcina said, straightening and holding her hand out.

Elena, reluctant but resigned, placed her hand back in the larger one and allowed the Lady to lead her around the table. The other girls were already mid-conversation, discussing a new shipment in excited tones that made her heart skip a beat. She waited to be lifted into the waiting high chair, staring up at it like the devil’s throne, but no lift came.

She paused, staring up at the Lady. 

She received an expectant look back. “Go on, little one.”

Her stomach sank, but she perceived the test that lay before her—another trial by humiliation, either she forced herself to take a position she hated or she resisted. But to resist would be to fail, and to fail was to be punished. Elena did not think she could take another failed test so soon. Sometimes when she swallowed she could feel the weight of that hand around her throat, the fear and the horror. 

Some things begged action, and some things commanded her to sit on her hands and suffer. And though it was through a path of painful stumbles and punishments, Elena was slowly becoming cognizant of which was which. 

The clamber up was awkward, gripping the seat and scrambling on her better knee to find purchase. It was mortifying, much more than being forced into the chair. She was halfway through turning around when she slipped, a small squeak escaping her, but the Lady steadied her with a pleased hum.

“Very good,” Alcina praised, leaning down to adjust her position and slot the tray over her lap, making no move to bind her hands or feet. “I suppose you are taking your promise seriously, aren’t you?”

Her face and neck burned, and she set her teeth against her tongue for a moment to temper the words that really wanted to slip out. But slowly her vocal cords managed to make something resembling polite conversation, a short and terse, “Yes, Mommy.”

Even using the title raked on the edge of her nerves, especially when she caught Cassandra’s playful wink and Daniela’s giggle. She offered them a baleful look. 

Settling into her own chair, the Lady turned her attention to her sniggering daughters. “Enough, children,” she commanded, more affectionate than truly annoyed. “I wish for us to have a good day today, understood?”

Elena found herself chorusing yes alongside the other daughters, and for once whole-heartedly meaning it.

Chapter Text

Adela was still absent from breakfast service.

When a trembling scullery maid on her first service presented her with breakfast instead of Adela, Elena’s stomach knotted with unease. Perhaps she shouldn’t care with the state of how they had left things, but the anger in her chest had eased over time and left only something unsettled behind.

She considered the staff as they stood at the ready, trying to read the lines of their faces. Their expressions gave away nothing. They were all too experienced to show their thoughts on their faces, except for Ioana, the pale-faced scullery maid, who stared at them all like demons come to earth. 

“Eat, darling,” Alcina commanded, drawing her attention back to her breakfast. “I can hear your stomach growling.”

Elena flushed red when the girls giggled, but obediently picked up her spoon and began to scoop up her breakfast. It was thick porridge, laden with brown sugar and cinnamon, a banana sliced into small disks over the top. A suspicious glass of milk accompanied it all, and Elena gave it a wide berth.

The porridge was sweet and wonderful, but heavy and warm in her stomach in a way that made her slightly sleepy again. There was absolutely no decorum to the way she devoured it, exercising the rare right to feed herself with gusto. Once upon a time, her Mamă would have smacked the back of her head for the wolfish gorging. But here, nobody made a move to stop her. 

“Messy girl,” the Lady sighed as she reached out with a napkin to wipe Elena’s mouth, but it sounded utterly fond. “We really must address your table manners.”

Elena looked up from her attempts to scrape one last mouthful out of the empty bowl, whining in protest at the affectionate dabbing at the corners of her mouth. “Stop,” she grumbled half-heartedly, scowling a little. “I can do it myself.”

She received a pointed look. “Would you care to try that again?”

“No, Mommy,” she sulked, far too aware of her promise to be good. “Sorry.”

The Lady didn’t respond to her apology, just continued scrubbing at Elena’s cheeks until she was satisfied. However, it was clear the brief resistance was not forgotten when Elena was pinned under the weight of her attention, the glass of milk nudged closer to her like a test. “Be a good girl and drink it.”

She stared down at it, trying her best to keep her scowl off her face for fear of provoking the Lady. Reluctantly, she picked it up, staring at it like one might a live grenade. She sniffed it discreetly. The familiar herbal tang was absent and the color seemed normal, but she knew the Lady liked to play games, so that didn’t guarantee there wasn’t something in it.

Regardless, she knew there was nothing to be gained by refusing and everything to lose. So before her brain could work itself into a spiral, Elena set her shoulders like a soldier going to war and gulped it down by the mouthful like a thirsty child. When it ran empty, she slammed it down on the tabletop with a huff, panting slightly for air.

“Well,” the Lady observed, eyebrow raised but looking rather disgusted—something almost comical, considering that she and her daughters literally ate human flesh and blood. “That was utterly appalling.”

A glance showed Bela shared the sentiment, frozen with her fork close to her mouth and sauce dripping down her wrist, all the while Cassandra and Daniela looked close to hysterics.

She licked milk from her upper lip, a little embarrassed but feeling nothing untoward creep over her. “It’s just milk.”

“It’s a good source of calcium and other nutrients,” Bela said after a moment, setting her fork down and struggling to regain her own sense of decorum as she wiped sauce from her arm. “Sylvia assured me it is good for bone health.”

Elena flushed, realizing it was not the Lady who had arranged the milk. “Oh.”

“My, my,” Alcina recovered, looking utterly amused. “It’s as if you don’t trust us, darling.”

Wisely, Elena said nothing in response, and her silence only seemed to amuse the Lady more as she went back to eating her own meal with a smirk. 

As expected, Elena was held hostage in her chair while the rest of the women continued to eat and chat. Bored out of her mind, she fiddled with her spoon, twisting it between her fingers, studying the flower patterning at the bottom of the bowl just for something to do. 

Gifted the rare space for introspection, she thought again of Adela.

Counting back the days since their confrontation in the kitchen, the absence was stark. None of the serving maids had ever been gone so long—unless you were too sick to move or otherwise occupied, a server was expected to serve. That the inexperienced Ioana had served in her absence spoke volumes, and not for the better.

Elena worried her teeth against her bottom lip, her thoughts a chasm of guilt and concern

Despite everything, Adela had been her friend for longer than she hadn’t. If she was hurt or worse because she let Elena try to escape, she would never forgive herself.

“Sister,” Daniela called, briefly smoothing her thumb between the sharp crease of Elena’s forehead, startling her into dropping her spoon. “Are you okay?”

Elena hesitated briefly, opening and closing her mouth. What if she was being too cautious? It had only been two or three days, perhaps Adela was just sick or had been assigned a new task? It was plausible. Was she overreacting? What did she hope to gain by investigating? Elena’s position was tenuous at best, was there anything she could do?

Reading the concern and curiosity reflected in Daniela’s gaze, she held her tongue. “I’m fine, Dani.”

Daniela hummed, squinting at her tacked-on smile for a long moment, but ultimately went back to eating her breakfast.

She restrained herself from sighing with relief. 

Still, her worry burned low in her belly, begging her for answers. The Lady was ignoring her, conversing with Bela. But Elena’s eyes ran thoughtfully over the other side of the table, focusing in on Bela and Cassandra: if a maid went to the cellar, those two were always responsible—Daniela’s victims almost never lasted long enough to make it down there.

And Bela was objectively safer to try and dig for information from, but she was close-lipped and seemed far more likely to report to her mother that Elena was asking—and taking an interest in anything outside of the family felt like a dangerous game.

But Cassandra, who didn’t care about consequences or punishment, who snuck in to see her and told nobody—

“Hasn’t anyone told you staring is rude, little sister?” Cassandra purred, meeting her gaze with dark eyes of her own and a wicked smirk. Her tone turned salacious. “See something you like?”

Elena scowled theatrically back, wheels in her head turning.

The girls left first as the breakfast dishes were cleared away, swarming out while Elena was still being freed from her chair: Bela to her study, Daniela to dig through her pile of newly gifted books, and Cassandra just disappearing without a word.

Meanwhile, Elena found herself led by the hand through the halls, trailing a half-step behind in the Lady’s wake like a rowboat after a barge.

“Castle Dimitrescu existed many centuries before I came to inherit her,” Alcina mentioned, leading her through unfamiliar hallways and away from the main living areas. “The opera hall has not been used as such since long before my tenure, but it functions now as a music room for myself and the girls—the acoustics are excellent.” 

There was a thread of genuine happiness in the Lady’s voice as she spoke of it, a hint that the room meant more to her than she said.

Elena chased after that thread, curious. “I’ve heard that you spend a lot of time there…?”

The Lady didn’t seem surprised by her knowledge, but she did pause briefly to give Elena a look. “I would encourage you not to listen to all the senseless drivel that the staff seem to spout. But to answer your question—I do enjoy spending time there, yes.”

Elena accepted the mild correction, though she didn’t agree. When she had first arrived, she had put little stock into rumors—she had considered them bored, fearful mumblings. But then there were bodies served as sustenance, blood wine, girls carved apart for minor mistakes; all rumors proven to be true. So, she put stock in them now.

The castle held many secrets, and the staff were more observant than the Lady gave them credit for. 

But backtalk was dangerous ground, so she let it rest. “Do you play an instrument?”

“A number,” the Lady answered proudly, a peculiar smile on her face. “A luxury of time, dragă. It allows one to explore many hobbies.”

Elena took in the odd way she said that, filed it away somewhere in the back of her brain. It sat curiously next to her words in the private library—I am not anything so pedestrian as a vampire. Though she may not be, there was a sense of eternity in the way that she spoke, something larger than a single life could hold.

“I can’t imagine it,” she said, more to herself than the Lady. “To have time.”

Even before her parents passed, she seldom indulged in hobbies for the sake of leisure. There was always something to do: feed the livestock, help her father in his workshop, help her mother in the house. In the after, she rarely had the appetite or means to try. Then, coming to the castle—well, her free time was spent keeping to herself, keeping her head down; all for nought.

The Lady glanced back at her, oblivious to the turn in her thoughts as her hand squeezed tighter around Elena’s. “You are my daughter, there is nothing you cannot do or try,” she said in answer, eyes bright. “You will have all the time in the world.”

They were words of comfort, yet something terrifying in scope dripped in the gaps between things unsaid. 

Elena swallowed thickly and said nothing, allowing herself to be led without further complaint.

The opera hall was smaller than she imagined, yet still quite grand.

Under warm chandelier light, Elena sat in the Lady’s lap and ran her fingers curiously over the keys of the grand piano. She had never seen one in real life before, had only read about them in stories and heard them over the radio. The plinks of nervous fingers on the keys were inelegant, but the sounds were pretty.

“I taught all of my daughters how to play,” Alcina said, coaxing Elena’s fingers into a different position and then gently pressing them down so more clear, full-bodied notes rang out. She smiled then at the awed gleam in Elena’s eye. “I will teach you too.” 

There was no illusion of choice in that, she would be made to learn, regardless of her opinion. But it did not aggravate her the way it probably should. Instead, Elena found herself filled with curiosity and apprehension both—staring down at the ebony and ivory keys as if they were monsters waiting to devour her.

“What if I’m bad at it?”

The Lady guided her to play a few more keys, the notes ringing out loudly in the empty room. “Don’t be foolish. The only difference between being bad and being good is time and determination—you do not lack in either of those departments, darling.” She paused, pondering. “Though perhaps stubbornness is more apt than determination.”

Elena ducked her head, but the chastising appeared good-humored and she hoped it would say that way. Partially to stoke the Lady’s good mood and partially genuinely curious, Elena allowed herself to make an admission. “I think…I would like to learn.”

The Lady’s pleasure was immediate, obvious in the way she clutched her tighter. “Then, so you shall.”

She felt like she was making another deal with the devil, that the Lady would take her desire and twist it as she often did. But absurdly, the spark of interest in her overran her brain’s token resistance. She told herself it was motivated by self-defense. If she was to learn either way, she would rather learn through kindness than force—she had experienced far too much of the latter.

“Do you like music, little one?” Alcina enquired, leading her to play more notes, her hands wrapped warmly over Elena’s.

“I do,” Elena replied softly, lamely, a knot curling in her chest. “But I haven’t listened to music in…a long time.”

When he was still alive, she used to sit in her father’s workshop while he tinkered, listening together to a crackly old radio that only got one station. Sometimes, her mother would join them. Elena had fond, bittersweet memories of them dancing together to whatever song played, more than once letting dinner burn while Elena clapped for them to dance just one more time.

She ached to speak about them, to keep their memories alive. They said the second time you died was the final time somebody said your name. But she feared her parents would find no welcome company with someone who sought to subsume their roles so completely. So, she swallowed the grief and returned their ghosts to the museum of her heart, ignoring the way it squeezed.

“We must remedy that,” Alcina replied, oblivious to her momentary rush of emotion. She leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I imagine the musical pursuits are rather limited in that woeful village. Mommy has much to show you.”

“Like what?”

“We have an entire world of music to explore. Where could we possibly begin?” The Lady mused aloud, more to herself than Elena. However, a sly smile slowly unfurled across her face, unseen. “Something simple, I suppose?”

This time, she manipulated Elena’s hands to play a more distinct tune, one that was familiar—

Immediately annoyed, Elena tried to pull her hands away to cut off the rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but the grip on her hands tightened and carried out a few more notes. 

“Hush now, darling,” Alcina crooned, amusement clear in her voice. She turned Elena sideways in her lap instead, cupping her chin and peering down at her. “Do you not care for that one?”

Elena knew it was bait, swallowed back something vitriolic with great difficulty.

The promise she had made was a muzzle forcing her to keep her jaw snapped shut, to dull her teeth and tongue to something more palatable—or to give in to the provocation and the punishment that would follow. Despite herself, Elena held the desire for a good day close to her chest, relying on it to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“Don’t look so dour, silly girl,” Alcina chuckled, taking in the angry tick of Elena’s jaw with a smile. “Though it is rather adorable to see you pout, one must walk before they can run. Children’s songs are easy, repetitive, simple to learn—a good place for us to start. I can hardly teach you La Campanella before Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, can I?”

She couldn’t argue with the logic, much as she might want to. “I suppose.”

The reluctance in her tone made the Lady’s smile quirk a little more. “Worry not, I taught your sisters in much the same fashion. Though not all of them share passion for the piano. Bela is quite the prodigy, but Daniela plays the violin rather magnificently.”

Elena filed that tidbit away. “And Cassandra?”

“Competent with both, but unfortunately she does not have much interest in either.”

Perhaps it should have been surprising, but strangely Elena could see that. Cassandra was self-described as good with her hands, though often that was with a much more flirtatious tone. Any of the staff could attest to her uncanny skill with a weapon. She supposed some finesse transcended mediums.

“The girls sometimes put on a performance for me, so Cassandra’s talents do not fully go to waste,” Alcina continued. Contrary to her words, a secretive, fond smile slipped across her face. “She is rather an accomplished singer, though.”

Now that did surprise Elena.

“She is?”

“Truly,” Alcina agreed. “Though it seems to embarrass her.”

The idea of a red-faced Cassandra was far too intriguing for her to pass up, so Elena leaned further into the Lady, all signs of her previous annoyance forgotten. Her face was a little too eager. “How come?”

“Music puts into words what cannot be spoken, as they say,” the Lady answered, obviously amused by her interest. “Your sister has never dealt well with that sort of vulnerability, I’m afraid.”

And that made a little too much sense—Elena knew that feeling well.

A dark voice interrupted. “Are you filling the little one’s head with secrets, Mother?”

Elena jolted, arm jerking in surprise and slamming into the keys, a cacophony that made all of the women cringe. “Fuck.”

“Language, Elena,” Alcina chided swiftly, the usage of her real name making her spine stiffen, dread pooling in her stomach. A familiar look came over the Lady’s face, theatrical pondering with bad intent. “Must Mommy silence you again?”

She allowed herself to be cowed under the threat, dreading the return of the pacifier or the gag. Instead she turned her glare to Cassandra, who was standing an inch from them both—but in a rare show of disregard, she was not looking at Elena at all, too busy crossing her arms and glowering at her mother. 

“Oh, don’t be so coy, Cassandra,” Alcina retorted, catching her glower with an eye roll. “Your voice is quite charming, darling. And besides, your little sister is surely allowed in on a few family secrets, is she not?”

Cassandra’s eyes sharpened, stance shifting from something deliberately casual to something more intent, leaning forward like a cat about to pounce. “Is she now?”

“She already knows far worse about you, darling.” Alcina reached out so she could pat her daughter’s cheek. “Your singing voice is hardly top secret.”

Cassandra leaned into the affectionate touch like a stray cat, reluctant but soaking it in. She seemed annoyed still though, the talk of vulnerability clearly taken at great offense, giving her eyes a particularly vengeful glow. Her eyes turned pointedly to Elena. “And has Mother told you about her voice?”

The Lady’s face soured. “Cassandra.”

“We have copies of her records, you know,” Cassandra continued, undeterred. “She was very good.”

Greater annoyance flit across the Lady’s face. Her hand tightened on her daughter’s cheek, nails digging into the skin as retribution. “Enough, Cassandra.”

“Feeling vulnerable, Mother?” Cassandra retorted, unrepentant, purring a little as the nails dug deeper into her cheek. “I thought we were sharing family secrets?”

“Enough.”

A crackle of tension burst in the air as the Lady jerked Cassandra’s face back towards her, peering deeply into her daughter’s dark eyes. While sitting, they were almost at eye level. There was a sharp spike in the air, familiar but no less terrifying, especially when she was concentrated that close to the source.

The staredown held for a moment, then longer, and Elena fell utterly still in her lap as the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Eventually, Cassandra tilted her head up and away, eyeing the chandelier dangling above with an annoyed curl of her lip. And the Lady allowed her to pull away from her hand, looking satisfied and just a little pleased. 

“I was a singer,” Alcina said after a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Cassandra’s ear, as if the brief altercation had never happened. Her eyes were a little far away. But after a moment, she looked down at Elena. “It was a lifetime ago and far from here.”

And that surprised her, truly—and from Lady’s chuckle, it showed on her face.

It was hard to imagine a world in which Castle Dimitrescu was not lorded over by the Lady of the Castle. Even more so, she struggled to picture her as a singer in some distant place. How was that even possible? Elena couldn’t begin to imagine what her voice would sound like and the curiosity was overpowering.

“Would you…?” Elena started, then paused, catching herself.

The Lady raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting. “Full sentences, sweet girl.”

Her voice came out small, nervous. “May I hear it? Your voice, I mean.”

Something burst across the Lady’s face in response, so quick she almost missed it. Embarrassment, perhaps, or something akin to it. Whatever it was, it was swiftly buried beneath a smile—a small one, genuine and soft, as if she was pleased by Elena taking an interest.

“You hear it all the time, darling,” Alcina replied, deliberate, seemingly clawing back the moment of her own vulnerability. “You must be more specific than that.”

Elena huffed, rising to the obvious bait. “May I hear your singing voice, please?”

“I suppose, though I am woefully unprepared for a live performance,” Alcina said, clearing her throat. She turned her eyes to her older daughter. “Cassandra, would you be a dear and find Mother’s records?”

All of the irritation was wiped off Cassandra’s face, replaced by a restrained sort of excitement. A glimmer that shone in her eyes, like a rare treat had been dangled in front of her face and she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes, Mother!”

Chapter Text

Elena liked jazz.

It was a departure from the crackly orchestral music that usually played on her father’s old radio—yet, not wholly divorced from it either. The instrumental started off slow, sultry, all gentle piano and soft drum beats, layered with an instrument she would later find out was called a saxophone.

Elena found her head swaying, caught in the embrace of the rhythm as it built.

Cassandra seemed to share the sentiment, sprawled sideways in the armchair closest to the record player, tapping her fingertips along, eyes closed. She held the ancient record jacket close to her chest. If Elena strained her ears, she could hear the softest hums and thought to herself oh, the Lady was right about her voice.

Meanwhile Alcina sat rigid, unspeaking, a statue of a woman settled next to Elena on the sofa. A cigarette she hadn’t taken a drag from burned slowly down, forgotten, ash sprinkling carelessly over the carpet. Yet, despite her stillness, there was a curl to her lip—distant, fond, almost reminiscent. 

Then, the singing started—

Elena froze, surprised and yet not.

Immediately, she knew who the voice belonged to. It was low, somewhat raspy, yet somehow young and vibrant and familiar in a way she had been wholly unprepared for. Cassandra’s flippant tone did the voice no justice. It poured over her, a low crooning that sent pleasant tingles down her spine. 

“Wow,” Elena breathed, overcome.

Even the most stubborn part of her that fought tooth and claw fell lax, awed and stunned in equal measure, unable to deny the talent in that voice.

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine her mother and father dancing under the lamplight, could hear herself laughing as they pulled her in and span her into their circle. The lyrics spoke of love and longing and saying goodbye, and they nestled somewhere in the hollows of her chest, sank themselves deep, touched her in ways she couldn’t imagine.

She recalled the Lady’s words, music puts into words what cannot be spoken, and thought that perhaps music didn’t just make the singer vulnerable. The ripple of goosebumps across her arms made her shiver once again, swallowing thickly. 

“Mother’s spectacular, isn’t she?” Cassandra said, eyes on her. “This one is my favorite.”

“It’s beautiful,” Elena agreed, voice unsteady and a little too throaty. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

The Lady sucked in a breath, seeming to have forgotten how. Her eyes were shadowed by the brim of her hat, dark and wistful, a strange thing to witness on the face of one who was usually so stubbornly unreachable. “As a younger woman, I performed this in Paris. I did not think life could get any better.”

Elena’s gaze shot to her, surprised but curious. “Did it?”

“This life is mine,” she answered instead, decisively. The shadows slipped from Alcina’s face as she tilted her chin stubbornly towards the ceiling instead, suffusing her pale skin in warm light. “I do not practice regret.”

The words were characteristically obtuse, self-assured, a little haughty—but there was something else in them, a flicker of something more in the space between words. Elena was seized sharply by the desire to push, to understand how one went from crooning love songs in Paris to drinking blood wine in a castle and keeping captives. 

“Shh,” Cassandra commanded, turning the record player louder. “Don’t waste it.”

They whiled away the hours in the opera hall, listening until the record scratched, then setting a new one.

The Lady’s voice favored the slower and sultry tunes, songs about love and grief and broken hearts—but there were a few lighter ones too, deep cuts from far younger days, with a swinging sort of rhythm that made one want to tap their feet. 

Somewhere between a song about a dark-haired stranger and a jaunty instrumental tune, Daniela and Bela joined them, settling quietly on the carpet by the fire with their backs to the flame. Daniela had a hardcover of La Belle et la Bête cracked open and Bela absently balanced a ledger on her knee; neither one turned a page.

It gradually became clear why Cassandra said don’t waste it.

The girls lit up every time the Lady spoke. Her commentary was few and far between, but for girls who had lived their entire lives within the castle, they devoured each anecdote of the outside world like starving women—a venue on the Seine with the most beautiful view, wandering the streets of Kraków one snowy night, playing three encores in Bucharest when the crowd wouldn’t stop calling.

For the first time, Elena shared in their wide-eyed wonder.

She had never left the village, nobody did. They were insular, remote, and Mother Miranda’s sermons always spoke about the danger of the outside, how those from that world were to be shunned. But the way the Lady spoke of it was colorful, precious.

But all good things must come to an end, and midway through a song, a series of sharp knocks broke through the room’s peace.

Cassandra was up instantly, halting the record player with a hiss and hastily returning the record to its home. The other two girls shot to their feet too. Without waiting for a welcome, the Grand Chambermaid slipped inside; a move that would have spelled death were she anyone else.

Alcina’s eyes burned, the soft and open look on her face replaced with anger. “What is it, Roxana?”

“My Lady, apologies for the rude interruption,” the Grand Chambermaid said, the lines on her face tight with worry. She looked old, worn. “I’m afraid that a few of the staff are missing. With yourself and the other Ladies occupied, I’m afraid that they may have…seized the opportunity.”

Elena froze, limb-locked with worry, any trace of her ease forgotten.

A hiss. “Who?”

“Elizabeta, Lucia and Catarina—laundry maids, My Lady.” Elena’s traitorous shoulders relaxed. She could picture their faces if she thought hard enough, but she didn’t know them. “They attended their morning tasks as normal, but the others report that they did not return from the drying room this afternoon. We have been unable to find them.”

Lady Dimitrescu’s fingers drummed rhythmically on the arm of the sofa. “Girls.”

The daughters leapt into action immediately, presenting themselves before their mother like soldiers, shoulder-to-shoulder and smiling far too widely—an expression that could only be called feral. It was the face of a predator, any trace of innocent softness forgotten. Even Bela, usually calm and cool, bristled like a hunting dog eager for the chase.

Swallowing tightly, Elena looked over at the Lady. There she found a matching smile, sharp as a razor’s edge and filled with tightly-reigned fury.

“It is time for you to hunt,” Alcina declared, and the room rippled with something electric, heavy. “Go. Find them.”

The girls dispersed into clouds of buzzing flies instantly, cackling, and Elena heard the bone-chilling sound echoing loudly in the hallway as the witch hunt began. 

The Lady’s eyes swung back around, and Elena saw the ripples of goosebumps up Roxana’s arms no matter how she tried to stifle her reaction. She felt her own forming, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“As for the rest of the staff,” Alcina said. “Have them assemble in the main hall. Immediately.”

Roxana nodded, eyes closing in a brief, almost regretful moment. “All of them, My Lady?”

“Yes. It appears they must be reminded of the terms of their employment.”

It was like watching ants, all lining up in neat and orderly rows and waiting for the instructions of their queen.

Roxana commanded them into positions with a severe frown, barking orders when they were too slow to obey. The senior maids worked under her guidance, blocking exits and staircases with straight backs and hands clasped at the waist—those who were not needed came to stand at the head of the room with Roxana, the small few granted the liberty of giving the Lady their backs. 

Elena had seen this sort of procession only once before. 

Months ago, she had arrived at Castle Dimitrescu in a brand new uniform, surrounded by a dozen other fresh-faced young women. Roxana had lined them up, presented in the center of the room like a prize. The other maids had all stood at attention behind them, faces blank and uniforms perfect, not a single one daring to speak.

She remembered how it felt, seeing Lady Dimitrescu for the first time. Even before the Lady alighted on the landing to address them, her daughters prowling like beasts in her wake, something primordial in her knew enough to be afraid. Her hands shook for hours afterwards.

She wondered if the maids below felt that same terror now, blooming under the Lady’s condemning eyes. 

“It seems,” Alcina announced, voice booming in the silence and thick with fury, “that some rodents have seen fit to try and insult House Dimitrescu. To suggest that we are fools.”

Nobody dared breathe, not even Elena.

“We provide food, shelter, a place for you to prove your worth. In return, we expect something very simple: loyalty.”

There was a scream in the distance, piercing, horrible—not an unfamiliar sound in the castle’s walls, but never a welcome one. 

Elena was intimately familiar with fear, knew it like an old friend. Standing at the Lady’s hip, her hands curled into fists, she watched it ripple over dozens of faces at once. She honed in on the row of kitchen staff, gaze sliding over Gabriela’s shaking hands and Sylvia’s furrowed eyebrows, searching. But there was no Adela, and her dread continued to creep over her like a physical thing.

The Lady smiled.

The expression was more vicious than a snarl or a scowl could ever be. It was brutally confident, oozing casual menace—like a cruel queen holding court. It erased any trace of the softness she had shown in the opera hall, stomped on any vulnerability. Now, only Lady Dimitrescu remained.

“Daughters, if you would.”

With a bang, the main doors burst open, the two senior maids stepping hastily aside with tight bows.

Bela emerged first, face clean but hands dripping crimson.

Cassandra followed her, humming jauntily, wet blood streaming from mouth to neck. 

And last came Daniela, skipping in behind them both, drenched with gore from head to toe and utterly rapturous for it.

Elena’s breath caught in her throat at the sight—but not of the three daughters, who smirked theatrically at the attention. No, her eyes locked onto what they brought with them: the missing maids, streaking blood and viscera on marble floors as they dragged them center-stage. Bela’s sobbed silently as she was dragged by her hair. Cassandra’s continued to scream and thrash, grasping uselessly at the sickle in her belly. And what remained of Daniela’s was still as the grave.

“These ones have betrayed their contracts and our trust,” Alcina said, voice cold, callous. “Daughters, I leave them to you. Do as you like.”

Nobody in the room was under any illusions as to what the price of such a thing would be, least of all Elena.

But it did not stop her from jolting when Bela cast her captive to the ground, placing a foot on the back of her shoulders and staring out across the crowd of maids. Though Elena could not see her face from that angle, she could imagine the eyes—ice cold in their rage, brutal and lofty in their judgement, a message to all staff just who it was that they had betrayed.

Then, a sickle swung in her hand.

Elena closed her eyes, but she could not cast the sound out of her brain—the way the sobbing turned to gurgling, the splatter of blood rang out. Nor could she tune out the way Cassandra’s captive made a guttural, bellowing wail, calling tearfully for the fallen girl.

Her mouth tasted sour, stomach rolling as she fought down the nausea building deep inside. It was not the first body she’d seen in Castle Dimitrescu, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. But it did not mean she was accustomed to it. She clenched her fists to stop them shaking, biting her lip to keep the strangled noise from escaping her throat. Even so, she was powerless to stop the cold chills continuing to creep up and down her spine. 

By the time she dared to open her eyes again, two senior maids had stepped forward at Roxana’s command. They lifted an arm each, dragging the body slowly out of the room. Elena knew that it was destined for the cellar, to become another faceless body behind the Lady’s favorite vintage.

She was sure the horror on the staff’s faces reflected on her own, especially as Cassandra twisted the blade in the belly, provoking another bellowing yell. It made her close her eyes once again, twisting her head away from the grotesque scene.

“I suggest you all take the time to reflect on whether you wish to offer House Dimitrescu your loyalty,” Lady Dimitrescu commanded over the screaming, voice ringing out. “Any future attempts to disrespect us will be paid back twofold. Do keep that in mind.”

In another world, if the Lady hadn’t held some twisted obsession for her, that would have been the result of her first escape attempt. And Elena had never felt more of a coward than she did in that moment—as a disgusting sort of relief filled her, a gratefulness to have been spared that fate. 

It was a sharp, cruel reminder that no matter how sweet, how lovely, how gentle the women of the household could be for her, they were not good. They would never be good. They were monsters that tortured and killed as they pleased, and Elena now stood with them and not with the staff lined up in rows below. What did that make her?

She shrunk as the Lady’s hand outstretched, waiting.

“Come along, dragă. We’re done here.”

Elena silently allowed the Lady to lead her inside her playroom.

Nobody had been in to stoke the fire, so only embers lingered in the hearth. The room was darker, colder for it. The shadows seemed to press in heavily around them, even as the Lady lit the soft lamps and opened the curtain, allowing some of the afternoon light to spill inside. It did little to stop the chills breaking out across Elena’s skin.

Finally, Alcina settled herself in the rocking chair. “Grab a blanket and come sit with me.”

Helpless to resist the command, Elena retrieved a fluffy white blanket from the foot of the bed. She offered it to the Lady, but let out a startled noise when the Lady scooped her up instead, arranging Elena across her lap in a familiar hold.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised, tucking the blanket around her. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

A laughable sentiment—Elena had a long list of things to be scared of, and the top four carried the same last name.

She was painfully aware that she was shivering, cold in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. She tried to force the trembling to stop, but her body wouldn’t listen. It was running on more primal instincts, and no matter how soothing the hands running up and down her back were, it could not shake its reaction to witnessing such casual brutality. 

“Do you understand why it had to be done?”

Elena’s voice came out soft, hesitant. “…Yes.”

Castle Dimitrescu had its own rules, carved in blood on stone at the whims of its rulers. The maids that lasted long enough to learn them knew the value of obedience, of loyalty, of accepting their place in the hierarchy—those that did not learn them were made cautionary tales. Elena knew well that those maids had doomed themselves the moment they tried to run and failed. But that did not make the knowledge any easier. 

“You may think it cruel, but some lessons are best learned through suffering,” Alcina said, surmising her thoughts. She pressed Elena’s face into her collar, her voice rumbling through them both with how close they were coiled. “I believe you know this as well as I.”

Elena’s shoulders stiffened at the sharp reminder of just how she had come to where she now sat—a slippery slope full of fear, pain and humiliation. Her fingers twisted in the Lady’s dress, white-knuckled, torn between resisting or staying where she was. But her body chose the latter, pulling herself closer before she realized she’d done it.

She whispered, voice muffled, more guilty than angry. “It’s not the same.”

How could she compare her treatment to the blood spilled? Yes, she had been hurt and injured, but she had her life, or whatever farce of it she now lived. Those maids couldn’t say the same.

She dwelled heavily on words Adela had once said: there are worse things to be than theirs. Elena had seen the other side of the coin today, the brutal reality of a world in which they cared for her a little less. In the face of it, a small, guilty, cowardly part of her now admitted that the words weren’t entirely untrue—and she was reluctant to admit that slowly, day by day, fitfully, that part of her was growing.

The Lady rocked the chair backwards and forwards, patting her back. “Do not let their fate trouble you, sweet girl. Tears will not bring them back, and they certainly do not deserve them.”

Elena hadn’t even realized she was crying, soft and silent tears. It felt like she lost touch more and more with her body every day, like more control was wrestled from her in a way that had nothing to do with the drugs they fed her.

A plea came slowly, coaxed by expectant silence and gentle hands. “Why?”

The Lady had kept her carefully away from the blood-soaked reality, at least where she could. So why now? The contrast between the softness and brutality was sharp, gouging—the whiplash of spending pleasant hours together as a family only to turn around and force her to watch a display from the depths of her nightmares? It made her dizzy.

But the only answer she received was soft humming and the creak of the rocking chair.

It took a moment or two, but Elena’s brain strung together the familiar rhythm—one of the songs from the records they had listened to, one that the girls had swayed through, twitching as if they wanted to dance. It had a slow, almost waltzing rhythm to it, timed perfectly to the rocking. 

She should have chased her answers, pushed for more, but something about the motion and the soft hums next to her gave her pause. Something that had taken root deep inside of her. It was strange, condensing her chest and easing the lingering shakes, giving pause to the silent tears, until she just sat there and listened.

The family’s casual brutality should have driven her from the Lady’s arms in protest at the injustice. Instead, Elena found herself sinking ever closer, her traitorous heartbeat aligning with the one thumping beneath her ear, until she could scarcely separate them.

As quiet seconds strung out into minutes that felt like hours, she began to blink slower and slower, until her eyes refused to open again.

Only when her breathing evened out did the Lady smile, dipping to press a tender kiss to the top of her head. “It will all be worth it one day, dragă. I promise.”

“Mother?”

“Come in, darling. Quietly.”

Obediently, Bela stepped into her mother’s study, inclining her head at the woman sat behind the desk. 

Approaching on soft feet, Bela peered at the girl curled up in an armchair in front of the desk. A blanket was wrapped around Elena, her breathing slow but her forehead scrunched. Instinctively, the older sister reached out, smoothing her thumb gently over the furrowed brow until the tension eased. 

“She looks troubled.”

Alcina hummed, setting her pen down and closing the journal. She looked between her two daughters with a pleased smile, eyes fond at the sight of them together. “I believe today’s display left quite an impression on the little one—she’s been restless all afternoon.”

Bela digested that thoughtfully. “Was it too soon?”

“I don’t believe so. A statement needed to be made, and I would not waste an opportunity,” Alcina answered. “She reacted much better than expected. Dealing with a few nightmares is a small price to pay.”

“Do you think she’ll be ready soon?”

“It is not something we can rush, we only get one opportunity with her,” Alcina replied, shaking her head. “All things in good time, darling.”

Bela looked a little embarrassed at the soft chiding, attention diverting back down to Elena, studying the soft lines of her face. “Forgive me, Mother,” she replied. “I just worry for her. She’s so…fragile.”

“All the more reason for us to take care.” Alcina rose from behind her desk, the notebook she had been working in quietly forgotten. Instead, she crouched down beside the armchair, brushing a few strands of hair away from Elena’s face. Her lip quirked, almost playful. “I suspect we will have our hands quite full with her soon enough, Bela. I can only hope our home will remain standing by the time she is done.”

Bela laughed softly. “Surely she can’t be any more trouble than Cassandra or Daniela.”

“I wouldn’t discount her just yet,” Alcina smirked, though it was good-humored more than anything. “Your little sister does so love to surprise us, does she not?”

Chapter Text

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

Elena grumbled angrily, burying herself further into her pillow and keeping her eyes stubbornly closed.

“She’s adorable when she’s tired, Mother.”

“And rather cranky,” the Lady’s voice chimed in, sounding supremely mused. Her hand stroked Elena’s cheek, coaxing. “But she needs to wake up and eat her dinner.”

It took a few more soft touches and giggles at her expense to force Elena to open her eyes. She blinked slowly to try and clear her blurry vision. “Why’s there two of you?” she mumbled, mouth dry, tongue sticking.

Daniela laughed. “You’re extra silly today, sister.”

Elena squinted further, flushing as the two Daniela-shaped silhouettes condensed into the real thing, who was widely grinning, and a very non-Daniela-shaped fox plushie half-smushed beneath her. She jerked upwards, realizing she was in her high chair—and more importantly, that she’d been asleep cheek-down on the tabletop.

She rubbed her eyes. “When did I…?”

The Lady reached out, adjusting her cardigan back over her shoulders from where it had slipped. “Mommy carried you here, darling. You had quite the nap,” she said, shifting the stuffed fox from the tabletop and tucking it into Elena’s lap, ignoring Elena’s irritable huff. “You can go back to sleep soon, but you will eat first.”

Elena felt sluggish, surprised by the fact that it was dinner. She squinted at the grandfather clock in the corner, surprised to see the hands tick past eight-o’clock—a late dinner even.

“I bet the food tonight will be extra good, Sylvia always prepares something special when Mother threatens the staff,” Daniela announced, sounding utterly delighted. “She calls it a bribe.”

“Sylvia is a smart woman and a competent chef,” Alcina said haughtily. “There is a reason we’ve kept her so long.”

Elena only half-listened to their words, her eyes drifting around the table. She was surprised to find that neither Bela or Cassandra had joined them, and their absence bothered her more than she cared to admit.

“Be nice to your friend, little one.”

Her eyes snapped up to the Lady, catching her amused golden gaze, then back down—to her hands, which were twisted far too tightly around the fox in her lap. She released it in an instant, holding it up accusingly by the scruff instead, embarrassed. “Why’s it here?”

“You looked lonely,” Daniela answered, eyes gleaming. She gave a sly smile, voice lowering, as if she was about to impart an earth-shattering secret. “I know it’s your favorite. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Cassandra or Bela.”

Elena blinked back at her, not really following the logic.

Despite her confusion, Elena reluctantly settled the fox back in her lap. Mostly because she knew that tossing it across the room would be sure to provoke both Daniela and the Lady—and she wasn’t a fool enough to take those odds. And also because she would feel a little bad crushing Daniela’s pleased smile. Still, she glowered down at it, then back up and around the room.

“Your big sisters will be joining us shortly,” Alcina said, following the way Elena’s eyes continued to drift back to Bela and Cassandra’s empty chairs. “They’re dealing with some…chores, if you will.”

Elena felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, remembering abruptly just what had transpired before her unplanned nap.

In truth, she had almost thought it all a bad dream—she recalled having a half-dozen of them, vivid and eerie things, full of distant screams, gurgling, the splash of blood on the floor. To know it wasn’t, that it was common enough to have a routine, sank ice back into her veins. She fiddled uncomfortably with her fox’s paws, chewing on her bottom lip until it stung. 

“Enough, darling,” Alcina chastised, using her thumb to tug Elena’s lip from between her teeth. “We’ve discussed these habits of yours. Look at what you’ve done.”

She huffed. “I didn’t mean to.”

Her lip stung anew when the Lady ran her thumb back over it, wiping a small pinprick of blood out from the tender flesh where Elena had chewed the corner raw. She gave Elena a meaningful look. “We’ll discuss it later.”

Elena swallowed tightly, watching as the Lady licked her thumb clean. “…Okay.”

“Getting started without me, Mother?”

Between one blink and the next, Cassandra materialized from a haze of flies, wearing a wide smile and baring too-sharp teeth. She sat slumped sideways in her chair, one arm thrown over the back, chin propped up on her clenched fist.

“You’ve had your fill already, it seems,” Alcina said, eyeing her daughter reproachfully. “I do hope some made it to the barrel, darling. You’re almost as bad as your sister—gluttons, the both of you.”

“You’ll have a new batch soon enough, Mother,” Cassandra retorted, waving a dismissive hand, smirking when Daniela snickered. “I just sampled the leftovers. They were delicious, by the way.”

Elena blanched, far too aware of just what leftovers Cassandra was discussing. Even now, between blinks, she had visions of Cassandra twisting her blade in the maid’s belly, and her own churned in response.

But the casual violence wasn’t unexpected for Cassandra, and it wasn’t really her that haunted the worst of Elena’s nightmares.

No, it was when Bela entered mere moments after that Elena felt her breath cease in her lungs. 

Unlike her sister, Bela pushed through the doorway on her own two feet and walked inside with her head held high. She bore no signs of blood, not a hair out of place, as put together as she always was. But all Elena could recall was the way she tossed the maid to the ground, the boot on her back, the swing of a blade—

A shiver ran down her spine, and Elena clenched her fox so tight that her hands turned white.

Instead of sitting, Bela rounded the table to whisper into Alcina’s ear.

“Thank you, dearest. You’ve done well.”

Bela inclined her head at her mother, hiding a smile—though it grew smaller when she looked upon Elena, studying the tension in her shoulders. Rather than returning to her seat, she approached, slow and non-threatening. She made a show of crouching at her side, so Elena could look down on her. 

“Good evening, sister,” Bela greeted, eyes a warm, honeyed gold. “How are you feeling?”

Elena sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m…okay.”

Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, and by the tilt of her head, Bela clearly agreed.

A hand reached out, slow and telegraphed, allowing Elena every opportunity to reject it. Despite the fight-or-flight that threatened to kick in, Elena forced herself not to flinch away. She was rewarded by an utterly gentle touch, Bela’s hands brushing softly over her own and coaxing her to release the chokehold she had on her toy.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Bela whispered to her. “I understand.”

“I’m fine,” she denied, forcing a tinge of aggression to her voice, using fury to replace fear. Her shoulders shifted defensively upward, head shifting away. “I’m not scared.”

But Bela just reached out and nudged her chin back, not unkindly, just insistent. “I would never hurt you.”

A silent battle waged between them, observed by the entire family, though none made any move to speak up or step in. Elena held Bela’s eyes until she couldn’t anymore, until the kind and understanding look in Bela’s eye made her crumble.

“I know,” she admitted finally, eyes averting. “I’m not scared of you.”

The words sounded too raw, too honest as she blurted them. But in her heart, she knew they were true.

She felt safe with Bela; she was a lighthouse in a storm, always ready to offer safe harbor. It was just hard to reconcile the protective older sister with the woman who cut out a maid’s throat without a second thought. She knew Bela wouldn’t hurt her, but it was the violence itself that terrified her. She expected it from Cassandra and Daniela, but Bela kept her teeth hidden until she needed them, and so the moment she snapped scared her half to death.

She wasn’t sure how to convey it to Bela in a way that made sense, couldn’t arrange the jumble of thoughts and feelings. But she didn’t need to. As if reading her mind, Bela smiled—small and soft and somehow vulnerable, but so radiantly pleased that Elena felt something like the sun condense in her chest.

After a moment of hesitation, Bela leaned quickly in, daring to press a small kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, sister.” 

Elena watched her depart, heart dancing a two-step. 

The staff were deathly silent as they served dinner.

Elena couldn’t bring herself to meet their eyes; a mutual sentiment. Instead, she observed dish after dish be set on the table, far more than any of them could eat. It was a meticulous feast only Sylvia could prepare, the work of days done in hours, all served by trembling hands.

“I told you,” Daniela nudged her, grinning. “Looks amazing.”

Cassandra had already leaned forward, serving herself some thinly-sliced meat coated in dark sauce, stuffing it wholly into her mouth. She winked at Elena. “Sylvia knows how to butter us up.”

Elena eyed the serving dishes with trepidation, familiar enough with their preparation to know which ones instinctively to avoid but dubious of the rest. However, her anxiety was short-lived, as a special platter was set in front of her, a bribe of her own. Her stomach growled guiltily as she eyed the breaded pork cutlet that she knew would be stuffed with ham and cheese.

She reached for her fork, but the Lady got there first, tapping her knuckles with it in reprimand. It didn’t hurt, but she still jolted, clutching her hand to her chest in surprise. “Why—?”

“Because I wish to,” Alcina replied, cutting through the beginning of the childish whine. “It is not your choice, Elena.”

Elena felt a hot bubble of anger in her chest, but swallowed it back as best she could. “Fine.”

“Look me in the eye and try that again. Properly this time.”

Her cheeks grew hot, but she forced herself to meet the Lady’s eyes. She could feel herself glaring, but was unable to fully stifle it. “Yes, Mommy,” she said, frustration leaking into her voice. She had been allowed to feed herself that morning, had been good like she was asked despite everything that had happened. Why was the privilege being clawed back now?

“You’re exhausted,” Alcina surmised, voice hard but not angry; in fact, there was an almost pleased gleam to her eye. “Today’s been a big day for my little girl, hasn’t it?”

The words felt deliberately condescending, and Elena’s irritation flared. “I’m fine. Can I do it myself, please?”

Alcina reached out, picking up her knife and beginning to cut her food into squares. “No.”

Elena suffered through the embarrassment of being fed, scowling between delicious bites.

The Lady did not change her mind, no matter how much Elena huffed and glared. In fact, she seemed absurdly pleased by how red-faced and irritable Elena was, smirking the whole time and talking down to her as if she was a naughty child who refused to eat their vegetables. It didn’t help that the girls giggled the whole way through, amused at her plight—even Bela couldn’t help hiding her smile, and Elena felt betrayed.

She eventually got so huffy and squirmy that the Lady threatened to restrain her again. A threat that became an unfortunate reality when Elena grew full, reaching her hand up instinctively to push the fork away—the result, having her right wrist locked back to the chair by a snickering Daniela and being forced to eat two more forkfuls.

It was only once the Lady had finished feeding both Elena and herself, their plates cleared away and a new round of wine poured, that the Lady cleared her throat and addressed the room.

“Girls, I received a phone call this afternoon. Mother Miranda requires my presence tomorrow, along with the rest of my idiot siblings.” The derisive tone of her voice said more than the insult ever could. “I will be away from the castle for a time while I attend to business.”

Elena’s head shot sharply back to the Lady, wide-eyed. “You’re leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Alcina confirmed, eyeing her carefully; she appeared torn between being pleased and being suspicious of Elena’s interest. “I’m unsure how long Mother Miranda will require me. She was…frustratingly vague. But I anticipate no more than a day or two.”

Her heart thumped unsteadily. A day or two. 

There was a world of terror and excitement in that notion. 

“I will ensure Elena’s cared for, Mother,” Bela spoke up immediately. “You have my word.”

Daniela instantly sat straighter in her chair. “I can help!”

Cassandra snickered into her wine glass, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like you’ll just get in the way.

“I expect you all to care for her,” Alcina said, though her tone was more fond than reprimanding, that of a mother telling her children to share. Contrary to her words though, she singled out Bela with her eyes. “I will speak with you later about your sister’s routine. There are some duties I will need you to perform for her in my absence, yes?”

Elena’s stomach sank.

Bela nodded. “Of course, Mother.”

“Excellent,” Alcina concluded, regarding Elena with a stern look. “I’ll expect you to be a good girl while I’m gone, dragă.”

It took her far too long to find her voice, the words coming out weak, nervous. “…Yes, Mommy.”

They had black forest cake for dessert; syrupy cherries, cream and chocolate settling in her belly like a stone.

Elena managed two small bites before turning her head away, refusing any more. Her nerves were too much, threatening to make everything come back up. Perhaps that was understood though because Alcina didn’t push, excusing them both from the table with a small, ambiguous smile on her face.

She followed the Lady slowly as she was led by the hand back to their room. The fox she had been forced to carry was cradled in the crook of her other elbow, its long tail hanging in a way that earned her a disgustingly fond smile every time the Lady looked at her. It was embarrassing. By the time they made it to the door, her head remained stubbornly down and she shuffled her feet.

“You seem troubled, darling,” Alcina said, locking the door behind them. She gently took the fox, tucking it into the bed with the other two toys, then sat on the edge so she could gather Elena into her arms. “Are you worried about Mommy leaving?”

She wanted to deny it, but the truth was—

“I don’t want them to take care of me,” she confessed, leaning into her, voice croaking as her mind whirled with the humiliating possibilities. 

Alcina rubbed her back softly. “Shh, dragă, you’ll be fine. Your sisters just want to help.”

“But they’re not you.”

Unseen to Elena, pure joy lit up the Lady’s face for a moment before she could wrestle it back into something deceptively neutral. “I don’t wish to leave you, darling, but when Mother Miranda calls, I must answer,” Alcina said, squeezing her a fraction tighter. “Your big sisters will do a fine job, I’m sure of it.”

“No,” Elena said, pushing at the Lady’s shoulders to extract herself from the hug, which suddenly felt stifling. She was surprised when the Lady actually let her go, though her wrists were held, keeping her standing between Alcina’s knees. “It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s—it’s the other stuff.”

“It must be done,” Alcina said simply, squeezing her wrists. “I understand it may embarrass you, but Bela will take care of it.”

Her stomach made a horrible rolling, flip-flopping motion. “I don’t want her to.”

“The choice is not yours to make, it is mine,” Alcina replied, but rather than sounding stern she sounded tired of the argument already. “Like it or not, I expect you to be good for Bela. She only wishes to help—that is the end of the discussion, Elena.”

Elena abandoned her protesting, only because of the bite that entered the Lady’s tone when she opened her mouth—she knew that she had been pushing her all evening, and the Lady had been uncharacteristically charitable in not reacting to it, but she sensed she toed a line here. So, despite the awful butterflies in her stomach, she clamped her mouth shut again.

“Good girl,” Alcina praised, releasing her wrists so she could pat Elena’s head. “We only have the evening together, I must be off early in the morning. Let’s not waste our time together with pointless back-and-forth. I think we could both use some relaxation, no?”

Truthfully, Elena was inches from spiraling again, caught up on the wretched reality of what her tomorrow entailed. She wasn’t sure she could relax. But the expectant look on the Lady’s face let her know it wasn’t really a question. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think it’s finally time we give you that haircut,” Alcina replied, twisting the ends of Elena’s long, wavy hair so they could both study the split ends; though it was certainly softer, no amount of fancy shampoo and conditioner could undo the damage. “Then, a nice bath and maybe some reading before bed.”

She let out a breath, trying to force out her trepidation with it; it would do her no good to be worked up all evening. Elena was becoming an expert in compartmentalizing, and so she stuffed her panic and dread tightly into a box inside herself, letting her shoulders drop. “Okay, that sounds…nice.”

“Excellent,” Alcina said, nudging Elena from between her legs, patting her butt gently to set her off towards the en suite. “Go, Mommy will join you shortly.”

“What do you think, darling?”

Elena gazed at herself in the mirror, touching the ends of her hair thoughtfully. It was still long, but the ragged edges had been cut away, framing around her face much more nicely.

She had expected the Lady to retrieve a maid to do the dirty work, but when she had entered the room with a pair of shears, Elena had been surprised. However, the Lady’s hands moved with a confidence that spoke of experience; each time her fingers combed through her hair, each gentle snip of the shears, had been so soothing that Elena had almost fallen asleep cross-legged on top of the vanity.

“It looks amazing,” Elena said, the fury of the earlier evening falling away in favor of quiet awe. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Alcina ran her fingers through Elena’s hair again, scratching at her scalp in a way that made Elena sigh. “You have beautiful hair, darling,” she said, studying the flame-colored strands as they passed through her fingers. “It requires much more care than you have given it.”

“More than soap and rusty shears, you mean?”

She worried the Lady had taken the soft jibe seriously, but received a good-humored smile and a haughty sniff in return. “I’ve yet to hear any complaints.”

“It’s the first proper haircut I’ve had in…a long time,” Elena admitted, touching again at the soft layers and nibbling gently at her bottom lip—then swiftly stopping herself when golden eyes fell upon it, remembering the unfinished conversation from dinner. “It could be worse, though. The Duke once helped me cut it with a knife.”

Alcina seemed aghast at that, disturbed enough to forget about the lip biting. “How could he possibly assist you? And with a knife of all things? I’ve half a mind to have that foolish man barred from my castle.”

Logic said she shouldn’t enjoy being so close to the Lady or be entertaining idle, affectionate small talk with her. But the logical part of her was increasingly drowned out recently by whatever seeds had taken root in her chest, the ones that tangled her insides with warmth and amusement. A giggle burst from her, utterly delighted by the disgust that burst over the Lady’s face.

“In all fairness, I cut it. The Duke simply held the mirror.”

That only made the Lady more horrified. “Were there not scissors or a mirror in that wretched village of yours?”

“Of course,” Elena answered, though some of the levity left her as she replayed the memories in her head. Her eyes met Alcina’s in the mirror, lip quirking wryly. “Unfortunately, he did not have any available in his carriage, and I couldn’t afford to make a poor impression on my first day.”

“Ah, he recommended you,” Alcina recalled, brushing the last of the hair from her shoulders and vanity to the towel on the floor, where some poor maid would undoubtedly be forced to clean it up.

“He did,” Elena replied, a bitter note in her voice—not at him, though she did have ample things to be mad at him for. It was bitter with her stubborn self, who had pushed for the introduction, no matter how much he had warned her against it. “And here I am.”

“Here you are,” Alcina agreed, reaching to turn Elena around. “Though, I’d prefer it if we could get you in the bath.”

Elena allowed herself to be shifted, unfolding her legs and sliding off the countertop. Her cardigan, slippers and socks were gone already, and she cringed at the feeling of hair under her bare feet. Still, she obediently lifted her arms so her shirt could be tugged over her head. She barely remembered to be self-conscious about her nakedness with the Lady, and was alarmed to realize it, only just beginning to cross her arms over her chest by the time her pants were tugged down.

Thankfully, the Lady had allowed her to use the bathroom before she cut her hair, so there was no diaper to remove. Though she knew that particular freedom was only temporary—that stray thought had the box she’d stuffed her fears in creaking, threatening to burst. She danced from foot-to-foot, covering herself in embarrassment, preparing to be lifted into the waiting bath.

But the Lady straightened up instead, beginning to remove her own clothes. Elena startled at the sight, trapped in the empty few feet between the Lady’s body and the countertop, unable to do anything but stare in alarm as inch-by-inch more naked flesh was revealed. Though she had seen the Lady’s nakedness before, and felt it against her, this was somehow different—she felt herself go wide-eyed as pale skin, silvery stretch marks and hefty curves were gradually revealed, and her eyes moved up, up, up until she finally met golden ones, glowing with amusement.

“It’s okay to be curious, sweet girl,” Alcina purred, voice low, unbothered by the eyes on her body. She leaned down, extending her arms and waiting. “Come, quickly now. There’s a chill in here, I don’t want you to get sick.”

Elena squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks hot, but shuffled into her warm arms and tried her best to ignore the body touching her as she was carried to the bath. She was only partially successful, hyper aware and skin prickling all over. She shoved some involuntary thoughts into the compartment inside her, then sat deliberately on the top to refuse to admit them into her brain.

The Lady paused only to flip the light switch off with one hand, plunging the room into candle-lit darkness. Then, she stepped into the bath with Elena against her, nestling them together amongst fragrant bubbles and wonderfully warm water.

“Relax, darling,” Alcina whispered into her ear, reclining them so that Elena could rest against the length of her.

There was no opportunity to refuse, and something soft and pliable took hold of Elena, allowing her face to nestle into the Lady’s shoulder like it was made to be there. The bath was safe, water murky and nakedness obscured, and it hid the vulnerable and embarrassed parts of herself—in the bath, it was just them, stripped bare and open in ways Elena could never be beyond the doors. 

Alcina gave a deep, almost world-weary sigh, tracing her fingertip over the ridges of Elena’s spine. “I will miss you dearly while I’m away.”

Elena allowed herself to be cheeky. “You could stay.”

“And risk Mother Miranda’s wrath?” Alcina chuckled, the noise rumbling richly through both of them without separation. “I have little wish to disappoint her, and I am not as much of a fool as my brother—she requires little of me that I am not prepared to give, and I offer myself gladly. It is just…unfortunate timing.”

The way she spoke about Mother Miranda made Elena’s skin prickle, a devotion and submission that felt strange, at odds with the mental image she had of the Lady—headstrong, imperious, bowed to nobody but herself. She had grown up amongst Miranda’s faithful, and though her faith had waned as she had grown, she still knew the marks of a follower. But this was not a woman who ceded to others, so Elena wondered what truly bound Miranda and her Lords together.

“Is it unusual?” Elena asked, voice soft. “To be summoned like this?”

“Not especially,” Alcina allowed, and the slow way she spoke made it obvious she was choosing her words carefully, that Elena’s question had settled between landmines and unstable ground. “Mother Miranda requires us to…perform tasks for her. She expects updates, and usually phone calls are enough. But meetings usually imply that there has been some success…or, that she is unsatisfied with our progress.”

She turned that over in her head. “And which is this?”

Elena must have prodded the landmine, because she felt the Lady stiffen slightly beneath her, the hand on her back clenching into a fist. “It is nothing for you to worry about, darling. Let’s just enjoy the bath, yes?”

She filed the reaction away, curious and suspicious both. “Okay.”

They languished together in the bath until the water began to cool and Elena’s eyes began to close, at which point the Lady quickly scrubbed both of them clean and washed Elena’s hair to get the last of the prickly, loose hairs out. Only once that was done did they step out of the lukewarm water.

Elena allowed herself to be rucked dry, sleepy but giggling as the Lady found sensitive spots under her arms that made her contort away. A reaction that had made Alcina snort, but smile fondly. Then, before she knew it, she was prepared for bed and dressed into pajamas, curled up with her head in the Lady’s lap as a book was read aloud.

Her brain barely comprehended it, foggy and sleepy, but she fought to stay awake as the tale spoke of wars and wardrobes and witches. If there was meaning to be found in the words, she interpreted none, but as she blinked sluggishly up at the Lady she read a story worth a thousand words in the warmth of her eyes. It made her chest hurt, until she forced her heart into the box in her chest as well, felt it struggle to contain the swell.

It was only when her eyes grew too heavy to force back open that the Lady quietly marked the book. “I think it’s time to put you to bed, darling.”

Elena mumbled a soft protest when the Lady rolled her gently out of her lap so she could remove herself from the bed, but curled happily into the warmth her body left behind. No matter how much she had slept that day, exhaustion slackened her until she was nothing more than a creature of blankets, wriggling like a comfortable worm beneath the covers, pulling them around her until only the top of her head poked out.

It could have been for minutes or hours, but eventually she felt herself be shifted again. She whimpered in frustration, dragging the blankets stubbornly with her and refusing to let them go. She was pleased when they were adjusted around her, rather than removed, curling up even as she was adjusted upwards. Though she did whine again when she felt an insistent push at her lips.

“It’s okay,” Alcina soothed, nuzzling the top of her head. “Drink, then you can go to sleep.” 

For once too tired to fight it, Elena allowed the bottle entrance, not even mustering the effort to open her eyes. It took a few adjustments and prompts from the Lady, but eventually she began to drink, unsteady and nodding off more often than not. It was a miracle that she didn’t choke herself. Even after the bottle ran dry, she continued trying to drink until it was gently tugged from her lips.

Elena yawned widely, slumping bonelessly in her cocoon of blankets, already asleep before the Lady could do more than set the bottle aside. She didn’t even react to the pacifier being pushed back between her lips, dead to the world beyond her dreams.

Alcina chuckled softly, brushing the hair away from Elena’s face and laying a kiss on her forehead. “Sleep well, little one.”

Chapter Text

“Come here.”

“No,” Elena said stubbornly, pulling the blankets back over her head. “You can't make me.”

“I can,” Bela answered calmly. “But I would rather not.”

The resistance was unsurprising, Bela had expected it—though, privately, she thought it rather adorable.

Elena had been awake when she arrived, distraught but brave-faced. She had clearly had enough time to build up her walls, somewhere between Mother's departure in the pre-dawn hours and now. The moment Bela entered, she coiled up defensively like a pill bug beneath the covers, clutching one of Mother's pillows like a shield and refusing to leave the bed.

Her resistance was a far cry from the violent streaks that Cassandra and Daniela shared post-rebirth. It made her think of a kitten, hissing when she tried to pick it up. However she knew it needed to be nipped in the bud.

Mother often said that Elena was malleable but headstrong, requiring a mixed medium of approaches to keep her in check. So, when Elena did not waver under her cool threat, Bela instead changed tactics.

“It's time for breakfast,” she said, voice deliberately softening as she reached out towards Elena's back. “Sylvia has worked hard to prepare some special treats for you today, and Daniela and Cassandra are excited to see you. It would be a shame to disappoint them all, wouldn't it?”

Elena jolted at Bela's touch. It displaced some of the blankets, revealing her messy bedhead and red-rimmed eyes—the latter of which were glaring at Bela, snarling like a feral dog backed into a corner. “Don't touch me.”

Mother would not let that go unchallenged, and Bela refused to allow it either.

“Elena,” her voice was harsher now, cold, like she might use with a maid that displeased her. “That’s enough.”

They were always so careful to use nicknames for her; affectionate, diminutive, adorable things. They were calculated as much as they were genuine, used to build connection, softness and submission. It turned the rare use of Elena's name into a command, intrinsically linked to punishment when used with the right tone.

When Elena flinched, she knew the words had landed.

“I know this must be embarrassing for you,” Bela continued, careful to be gentle, soothing rather than scolding. This time, when she reached out a hand, Elena did not reject it, only whining softly as Bela began to slowly unfurl her blanket huddle. “But I want to help you. I care about you.”

Elena sucked in a sharp breath. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you want to,” Bela said, coaxing her to sit up, then smoothing the blanket comfortingly over her shoulders. She left the pillow in Elena's arms, but reached out to take her hands instead. The nails were raw, bitten down to the quick, a mark of her anxiety. The pacifier, tossed to the floor, had clearly not done its job of soothing her once she had awoken to find Mother gone. “But Mother entrusted me to care for you, and I will not neglect you simply because you don’t agree.”

“But, I—“

“I don’t relish seeing you embarrassed, sister,” Bela interrupted, peering evenly into Elena's eyes—they were both aware of the consequences of Donna's blend, that there was a reason behind the dried tear-tracks down Elena's cheeks. “But I cannot in good conscience let you stay this way all day. It must happen, one way or another, do you understand?”

Bela did not relish force, but had little problem using it as a corrective tool as needed. Daniela and Cassandra had required it in droves when they were young, unwilling to respect anything but tooth and claw. But Elena was different, human, softer. Bela wanted to nurture the fragile affection and trust between them, cupping it between her palms like a flickering flame, not snuff it out carelessly beneath her heel.

Elena fell silent and a long moment of deadlock passed over them.

Bela waited patiently, allowing her time to breathe, to mull it over. She believed Elena was smart enough to make the right choice.

A quiet whirlwind of emotions blossomed over Elena's face, fierce in their intensity. They colored her cheeks, made her hands twitch, her lip tug between her teeth. A few slow tears dripped down her cheeks, and her hands pulled from Bela's to roughly scrub them away. Bela watched it all, allowed her to work through the raging storm on her own terms.

And slowly, eventually, Elena's eyes darted away, shoulders slumping. She gave in.

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sister,” Bela said, her smile soft and genuine, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “For your trust.”

Bela's hands were warm.

Elena focused only on that as they passed over her, as a humiliating ritual was completed that only the Lady had previously been given—had stolen and claimed—the right to complete. It felt utterly wrong, and her spine contorted in self-loathing, only kept still by the touch of those warm hands.

She squeezed the Lady's pillow in her arms harder; it smelled of her perfume.

“I know Mother's absence may leave you feeling bereft,” Bela addressed her as she worked, as if the situation did not bother her. “But don't worry, there's plenty of fun to be had, even while she's away—perhaps more.”

She chewed anxiously on her lower lip, turning her head away. “I don't care.”

She knew it was petulant and childish the minute it left her lips, but she felt like a cat with a lashing tail, just waiting to strike. She couldn't resist the easy blows, because they were all she had.

The briefest stillness in her hands betrayed that Bela was not satisfied with the sentiment, but perhaps she recognized that it was vulnerability and not disobedience that drove the remark, because she made no move to punish Elena like her mother may have. Though, in her peripheral vision, Elena was far too aware of the slight tilt of Bela's lips—what that smile meant, she couldn't divine.

Bela hummed softly, smoothing sticky adhesive tabs down. “About Mother's absence, or our plans for the day?”

“Does it matter?”

“Words have power,” Bela said simply, patting her belly once and then pulling Elena's shirt more comfortably down. “You should think carefully before you give them.”

Elena huffed, squeezing the pillow tighter, feeling the duck-down inside crunch. “It doesn't matter what I say, nobody listens anyway.”

“Untrue. I know it wasn't Cassandra that asked to hear Mother's records yesterday, was it?” Bela retorted, reaching out to help coax her back to sitting. Her eyes gleamed. “You have sway, regardless of what you may believe. As a Dimitrescu, your words intrinsically carry weight. The staff bow and scrape to you, do they not?”

She shook her head. That was not a power she wanted.

“However,” Bela said, smiling now, as if she could read Elena's mind. “You are but a child to us. Would you allow a toddler to order you around? Of course not. They don't know what's good for them. But you may indulge them from time-to-time because you care about them. And, as they grow, do they not naturally get afforded more status?”

Elena's face twisted. “I am already grown.”

“Of course you are,” Bela agreed easily, with finality. “But that does not mean you are not a child.”

Sometimes it was hard to know where the normality and the insanity of these women began and ended. Elena privately thought that their unique form of madness must be hereditary, regardless of their apparent lack of relation. Something about what they had become twisted their morals and logic in coils that she couldn't find the end of, an ouroboros that couldn't be slain.

Elena had yet to unpack what it was they wanted with her, precisely why they all viewed her as a child. Yes, they clearly intended to groom her for something, but to what end? There were many maids on staff, some younger than even her, and yet they cut them down without thought. Why was she so special? And what did they hope to achieve?

As always, the thought made her skin break out in goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Bela asked, studying the raised hairs and fine bumps.

“A little,” she lied, seizing the easy out, shoving the pillow into her lap to cover her bare thighs. Her voice came out whiny, irritable. “Can I get dressed now?”

“If you promise not to spit toothpaste all over yourself when we brush your teeth,” Bela allowed, though there was an amused tilt to her face that told Elena that the Lady had explained far too much about her routine. “Perhaps just clean pants for now. We can change your shirt after.”

She rolled her eyes this time, unable to stop herself. “Fine.”

Rather than punishing her as her mother might have, Bela just smiled teasingly back, reaching to take the pillow from her arms. For the briefest moment, Elena clung childishly on, before reluctantly allowing it to be tugged from her grasp. Setting it back on the bed, Bela reached out a hand.

“Come, let's find you something warm to wear.”

Elena huffed, but placed her hand warily in Bela’s.

Daniela twisted around in her chair in excitement when Bela entered the room, towing Elena behind her. “Finally! I thought you'd never come down!”

“Rough morning, little one?”

Bela swept Cassandra's boots off the dining table with a scowl, ignoring the startled squawk her sister made as she almost tumbled out of her seat. She led Elena by the hand, tugging her around the head of the table. Quite symbolically, the Lady's chair had been removed, a normal-sized one replacing it, which Bela sat herself in, looking like a newly-crowned queen.

Elena, who was still red-eyed and puffy-cheeked, was already mustering up resolve to refuse her high-chair when Bela coaxed her closer. She squeaked when she was lifted into her lap instead.

“Is this okay?” Bela asked. “You can sit over there if you wish.”

The stubborn, embarrassed part of her that wanted to kick her feet and dig in her heels was knocked briefly off-kilter. But anywhere was better than sitting in that chair, so she relaxed backwards, feet kicking. “It's fine.”

Cassandra, now recovered, snickered at her petulant tone. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, hm?”

Probably proving the point, Elena bit her tongue but allowed a heated glare to slip out.

Unfortunately, as always, the look did nothing but delight Cassandra, who smirked unrepentantly back and offered her a flirtatious little wink that earned her an even more dour expression.

“We apologize for the delay, sisters,” Bela said instead, cutting through the crackle of tension. Her voice was mild, the apology a token one. “We had to discuss a few things.”

Elena broke the glaring match with Cassandra, startling when one of Bela's arms curled around her, tugging her closer. Her hand splayed possessively over Elena's belly, almost brushing her rib cage. By instinct, her own flew to cover Bela's, squeezing in a strange hand-hold.

“Aww, she's so cute,” Daniela cooed, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, cheeks planted between her palms. Her eyes caught Elena's, as intense as they ever were, but this time they were a honey-color and warm with devotion. “I can't wait to play with you today!”

Contrary to the tone, the words raked against her raw nerves, daunted by the implication of what that looked like without the Lady in the castle. She shrunk backwards instinctively, putting an inch of distance between herself and her uncertainty. The press of Bela against her back became a reassurance, especially with a soothing thumb rubbing circles through her sweater.

Instead of answering, she turned her eyes down, staring at her lap. “Can we have breakfast now? I'm hungry.”

Bela smiled knowingly, pressing her chin to the top of Elena's head. “Of course.”

Elena relaxed slowly over breakfast.

Her embarrassment had mostly faded to a knot low in her stomach, the sharp edge of anger easing to a familiar sense of numb acceptance. The transition was gradual, soothed over by pancakes with syrup and steaming hot chocolate. Bela allowed her to eat on her own, though she did smile and wipe her sticky mouth like a child from time to time, ignoring her whining.

For their part, besides the initial teasing, the girls seemed content to leave her to decompress. It was coordinated in a way that said they'd discussed it beforehand. They left openings in the conversation for her, and Cassandra threw in the odd flirt and wink, but they seemed content to allow her to quietly shore herself up to face the day. Elena was almost grateful for it.

As the plates were cleared away, Bela turned Elena sideways in her lap so they could look at each other. “Before she left, Mother set some expectations.”

“You're ours!”

“Daniela,” Bela said sharply, a shade of her mother's tone entering her voice, something in it making the entire room sit straighter. Then, she looked back down at Elena, voice softening. “They have promised Mother to be on their best behavior, so they've each been granted the privilege of spending time with you.”

Her stomach flip-flopped. “Alone?”

"Don't sound so scared, sister," Cassandra said, smiling toothily. “We don't bite.”

The familiarly flippant remark cut a little through the worry welling in her gut, and she gave Cassandra a flat look, far too aware of the angry pink scar on her neck—it still tingled faintly where Bela had applied the soothing cream.

“Well,” Cassandra amended cheekily, “not much.”

Bela squeezed Elena's thigh to draw her attention back. “I'll be close,” she said, holding up a palm; a fly wandered around the curve of it, tiny wings buzzing. “But they will be allowed a modicum of privacy. It is their chance to, well, prove themselves.”

“What she means is, we've sworn to be good little babysitters while Mother's gone,” Cassandra interrupted, hand planted on her chin and looking as if amused by the concept. “No nibbles, no scratches, not even a stubbed toe—or we'll be in the cellar for a month.”

Daniela hunched over a little, almost feral in her determination. “I'll protect you from everything.”

Elena didn't have the heart to tell her that it was them who posed the biggest risk to her health.

Still, Daniela's earnest look made her frosty, anxious insides thaw a little. “…Thanks, Dani.”

“You will spend the morning with me,” Bela announced, drawing her attention back. “Then, after lunch, Daniela and Cassandra will have their turns.”

Elena didn't know what to think of the women taking turns, it made her feel more like a toy to be played with rather than an actual person with her own wishes—a familiar feeling in this household, but still. There was no arguing with the tone of Bela's voice; an assertive quality that made her sound like a queen announcing a royal decree.

It took a moment, but she steeled herself to ask the question. “What will we be doing?”

“What would you like to do?”

Elena paused.

Bela caught her surprised look, her lip quirking affectionately. “I listen to you, sister.”

The gentle call-back to their discussion earlier made her chest squeeze. Elena hated that for all of Bela's flaws, she could be so kind. It poured cold water over the remainder of the rage in her chest, leaving her wavering. It was a dangerous place to be. Of the sisters, Bela most threatened to tip the delicate equilibrium, and Elena was cognizant enough to know which way it leaned but stubborn enough to refuse to acknowledge it.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure how to answer the question. Besides escaping, she hadn't had much thought to anything else that went on in the castle. What even was there to do, besides reading and occasionally torturing the staff?

“I don't know,” she mumbled pathetically, eyes dipping down to stare at her hands, wringing them uncomfortably. “I've never…thought about it.”

“Mother really has sheltered you, hasn't she?”

“Cassandra.”

The middle sister rolled her eyes, but fell silent at Bela's sharp command.

“There is much to do in the castle, even during winter,” Bela said, taking pity on her. “What did you do for fun in the village? Any hobbies?”

The words inadvertently tore open old wounds. “Well, when I was younger, I'd read books or help take care of the animals. But there was a sickness during that hard winter a few years ago, I…didn't have much time after that. Too much to do.” She thought of her mother and father, wishing she'd done more. “I was good with plants, I guess. The Duke let me read some books on foraging, I used to bring him the ones I couldn't use. I also got pretty good at making tea, cooking, that sort of thing.”

Daniela's nose scrunched. “That doesn't sound fun. That sounds like work.”

Self-consciously, Elena's mouth clamped shut.

She suddenly felt foolish, realizing just who she was speaking with: women who had everything at their fingertips if money could buy it, who had the luxury of time and leisure that Elena had never had. Their circumstances had never been something she thought on much, too concerned with the arguably worse parts of their differences.

“I suppose,” she said, hiding her discomfort behind the practiced neutral tone. “Each person has a different idea of fun.”

“Well, when it's my turn,” Daniela continued, undeterred, “I’m going to show you how to have real fun!”

“I had heard from Sylvia that you appeared to enjoy baking, in your previous life,” Bela interceded, more perceptive than her younger sister. “Perhaps that? Or there's all manner of books in Mother's library? We also have some empty plots in the greenhouse, if you would like to try your hand at gardening.”

Elena felt her heart thump. “I…could use the kitchen? Wouldn't I be in the way?”

“Castle Dimitrescu is your home, you could never be in the way,” Bela replied emphatically. Though, her smile tilted up a fraction. “I arranged for the staff to complete their usual preparations last night, just in case. A few hours of exile from the kitchen won't hurt lunch preparations. Besides, I think they would be quite thankful for the break.”

The foresight to arrange that on a chance stunned Elena, a warm feeling blossoming in her.

“I would like that,” she said softly, the humiliation of the morning forgotten in favor of a quiet excitement. “Could we…?”

“Of course,” Bela answered, rising now and taking Elena with her on her hip, making her squeak. “Excuse us, sisters. We'll see you at lunch.”

Elena smoothed the crisp white apron down, the familiar weight of it soothing.

“You look pleased.”

She turned to Bela, trying to suppress her smile, only half-succeeding. The sight of the eldest Dimitrescu daughter in an apron was so wrong, especially when compared to her dark dress and even darker makeup. Though Bela wore it with quiet dignity, she looked so out of place that it was hilarious. 

“It's…nostalgic, I suppose,” Elena admitted, breathing in the familiar sights and smells. “It feels like it's been forever, but it was only…a week or two ago? I think?”

Perhaps it was silly to be so eager to come back to the kitchen, to chase the past and a place she felt but a fragment of normality. But Elena felt a comfort here that she never felt in the rest of the castle, at ease, regardless of the way Bela followed her around like a second-shadow.

“Mother may not fully condone me returning you to the kitchens,” Bela said after a moment, not caring to elucidate on the timeline. The corner of her mouth pulled up. “We'd best save her some of what we make. She'll be charmed.”

Elena hummed, non-committal, trying her best to roll up the sleeves of the oversized fluffy sweater she wore—then reluctantly allowing Bela to bat her hands away and do it herself. Bela had already wound her hair into a loose but comfortable bun at the nape of her neck, tied off with a ribbon that matched her eyes. 

She enjoyed baking, it reminded her of holidays making cornulete vanilate with Mamă. She was half-decent, though nowhere near as good as Mamă had been. The baker, Nicoletta, sometimes borrowed her. She’d even offered to steal her from Sylvia, but Elena hadn't the early-bird tendencies or perfectionism required to make it as a baker in Castle Dimitrescu.

She began to pull ingredients from the shelving, and Bela peered curiously. “What are we making?”

“Cookies,” she said; a safe, well-tested recipe. “The ones with jam in the middle.”

Bela hummed in delight. “Perhaps we could make a few with Mother's favorite jam?”

The jam in question was made with berries, liberal amounts of sugar and a cup of blood wine. The Lady called it indulgent. Nicoletta always kept a preserve jar of it on hand. "Of course," Elena said, retrieving the half-full jar from the pantry, studying the deep-red coloring. “I can't promise they'll be any good, I'm…a little rusty.”

“It doesn't matter, Mother will be happy to receive a gift all the same,” Bela reassured, a reminiscent smile coming to her face. “Cassandra had quite the habit of bringing Mother dead things when she was young, before she learned to preserve them and make those little trinkets of hers. Mother was quite disgusted, but accepted them all the same. Cassandra was always so proud of herself. Though, between you and I, Mother had the maids dispose of them immediately.”

Elena thought of Cassandra presenting something like a dead rat to the Lady, who was forced to smile through the horror and accept it by the tail—despite herself, a little snicker slipped through. “I'm surprised she'd allow it.”

“Though Mother is not a great fan of the mess, she believes a gift made with good intent should be accepted—within reason, of course, don't get any ideas.”

She turned that over in her head as she scooped flour into a bowl, sprinkling salt and a few other things in, mentally retreading the well-known recipe. After combining the dry ingredients, she moved onto the wet ones: softened-butter, brown-sugar, egg and some vanilla, all poured into another bowl. She nudged it over the countertop. “Could you please mix this for me?”

Instead of being put-off by the bowl being pushed into her arms, as Elena half-expected, immediate pleasure came over Bela's face. “Of course,” she agreed, eyes warm. “Thank you.”

Elena's brows pinched briefly, trying to figure out why she was being thanked. She studied Bela's small smile as she focused on the bowl, mixing carefully, intensely focused as if she had been entrusted the most important task in the world. It took a moment for the dots to connect, then she rolled her eyes.

It wasn't that she was excited for manual labor, it was the fact that Elena had asked her for help.

“You're welcome,” she said, shaking her head.

They worked mostly in comfortable silence for a while, interrupted only by Elena asking for help here and there, or explaining to Bela the steps of the recipe. Before long, the cookie dough was shaped and worked into circular shapes, which Elena pressed hollows into with her thumbs so she could dollop the jam inside. She had two baking sheets, one with normal strawberry jam and the other with the much darker, blood-infused kind.

It wasn't all smooth though, as Bela absolutely refused to let her handle the oven, snatching her hands away before she could even attempt to open the door just in case. Still, after a few huffing disagreements, Elena stood aside so Bela could slide the baking sheet into the oven. She twisted the ancient kitchen timer for eleven minutes, then set about tidying up while they waited.

“Baking is more work than I imagined,” Bela confessed, watching Elena run a cloth over the counter. “You truly enjoy it?”

Elena paused, taking in the dusting of flour on Bela's cheek and the earnest furrow of her eyebrows. “Mamă always called baking a labor of love. When it's for the people you care about, the time and effort are worth it,” her voice came out wistful, distant. “She used to spend hours in the kitchen, especially during holidays. The smell of melted butter and sugar reminds me of her.”

Bela eyed her, thoughtful. “You were close?”

“I would give anything for five more minutes with her,” Elena murmured, old grief in her voice. Her shoulders drew up a little defensive, remembering how Daniela had steamrolled over her memory. She turned her back on Bela, dumping dirty dishes in the sink. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does,” Bela said simply, standing so close to Elena’s back she could feel the heat of her. A hand planted gently between Elena’s shoulder blades, a thumb digging cautiously into the tension there until she relaxed. “It’s important to you, so it matters to me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. 

Bela made it so incredibly hard to keep her heart hard, distant, and she hated how it made her feel.

Despite herself, she leaned back into the touch.

“That…means a lot,” Elena whispered, looking down at the sink as it filled with water, watching her image dance uncertainly in its churning waters. If she peered closely, she could just make out Bela’s image wavering behind her. “Thank you.”

After the cookies were pulled from the oven and set to cooling on racks, Elena found herself led to Bela’s bedroom.

Despite wearing an apron, Bela had managed to somehow get flour and jam in her hair. She’d been too stubborn to tie it up, despite the fact that she’d tied up Elena’s. She secretly hoped that the Lady would find some long blonde hairs in the cookies; if Bela was to be believed, she might just eat them anyway if Elena looked hopeful enough, and that would be objectively satisfying.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Bela commanded, moving towards her bathroom and grimacing at the sticky ends of her hair. “I’ll be quick.”

It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go, Bela had locked the door and taken the key with her.

Besides, Elena wasn’t foolish enough to try escaping again while all three daughters were active, even if their mother was away.

“I won’t.”

Bela eyed her for a moment, hesitating in the door frame, but eventually stepped through it. She left the door conspicuously half-cracked. Though after a few moments, she heard the squeak and cascade of water turning on. 

With nothing better to do, Elena wandered slowly around Bela’s room, studying the little fragments about her that could only be found in a place that she truly called her own.

It was orderly but more cluttered than she expected, a stack of books on her bedside table that were perfectly squared, a vanity piled high with papers and journals, an explosion of makeup across her vanity. More interestingly, there were picture frames all over the room, hanging from the walls and perched on every surface—polaroids and paintings of her family both.

It was hard to say how far apart some of them were, the women in them unchanging over the years, except for their makeup and outfits. There were a few in particular that drew her attention. She lingered in particular over a picture of Daniela and Cassandra, hair braided elaborately and in beautiful dresses, dancing together with wild grins. They looked so happy, so human, that it briefly took her off guard.

Elena wandered around the room for far too long, lifting picture frames and studying them, filing away the small tidbits of the women she was supposed to call sisters, women it felt like she barely knew. Each photograph taken or painting created spoke of Bela’s love for them, a shrine to her unwavering dedication. 

“Wow,” she whispered, staring up at a large painting that hung above the fireplace.

“Daniela’s work,” Bela said, scrunching a towel through her hair as she stepped back into the room, another wrapped around her.

Elena stared wide-eyed at the painting of the entire family, the Lady looked powerful as she stood tall over her daughters. Daniela stood in front of her, sharp-eyed and smiling mysteriously. To the left, face half-cloaked in shadow with a glowing eye showing, Cassandra bared too-sharp teeth. And Bela, on the right, face cold and tilted haughtily upwards. Blood soaked the floor around them, the room shadowy, painted in deep reds and dark blacks.

“It’s very…intense.”

“Daniela went through something of a dramatic phase,” Bela replied, lip quirking as she moved to her wardrobe, pulling a new dress free. Elena tracked her briefly, then jerked her eyes sharply away when Bela let the towel fall. “It was all very dark and tortured. This was on the tail end. It’s a little overdone, but I’m rather fond of it.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the painting, studying the little details. “I had no idea Daniela painted so well.”

“Don’t let her disposition fool you, Daniela is much more skilled than she would have you believe,” Bela said proudly, and there was a fiercely protective thread of sisterly intent there. “She may be…overzealous at times, but she’s rather shy about her talents.”

Elena turned her eyes away from it, instead picking up another picture frame—this one was of Bela and Cassandra, side-by-side on a sofa, smiling victoriously at their mother over a chessboard while the Lady looked disgruntled. She ran her finger over the glass, thoughtful.

“I’ve been here for months, but I feel like I know nothing about you all.”

“By design,” Bela replied, brushing creases from her dress. “Most maids who get too close are…retired.”

Elena’s skin prickled, but she set the frame down and turned to regard her. “Why?”

“Too much knowledge can be dangerous,” Bela replied, seeming to carefully choose her words. “More than one enterprising little maid has tried to ensnare us in traps before—unsuccessfully, of course. But we have grown wiser with time. Eliminating a risk is a better method than trying to control it, I have learned.”

She nodded slowly, examining that closely. “They’ve tried to hurt you?”

“Tried,” Bela said, smiling, something hungry flashing briefly across her face. “Though it’s been some time since the castle last had any excitement, if you exclude the attempted runaways. A year or so, by my count.”

Elena’s stomach turned to lead, reminded again of the woman in the hall the day before, of the blood-soaked nightmares that had haunted her waking and sleeping hours both. She had to take a deep breath to refocus, remembering Adela once speaking about that; a group of armed intruders in the dead of night who’d heard stories of monsters in the castle.

“Outsiders?”

“Mmhm, always so much fun those ones are,” Bela sighed wistfully, and she sounded genuine. “Mother lets us play with them. The foreigners are my favorite. So exotic. They always taste the best. Though man-blood is more Daniela’s preference.”

Elena wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but filed it dutifully away. “Do they come often?”

“Now and again, when word gets out. Most are distant relatives, friends, people hired to find the ones that go missing,” Bela said, seeming unbothered by the notion. They both knew that the village wasn’t the only place the castle retrieved its victims from, they lent funds and called in debts as they desired, stealing away maidens as recompense. “Mother Miranda’s influence keeps the village in line, and hides us well, but some with sufficient determination make it through the lycans and provide us some entertainment.”

She shivered. “I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Bela said, perhaps reading the shaking as fear. “You’re safe with us.”

“I know,” Elena said, eyes shifting away. “I was just curious.”

Bela hummed, her eyes suddenly piercing, as if she was hearing every thought that Elena had ever had. “You will have all the time in the world to learn about us,” she said, the words making Elena’s eyes snap back. Their gazes met, Bela’s honeyed and full of secrets. “Give it time, one day, it will all fall into place. It will be like you’ve always been here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do,” Bela replied, frustratingly vague. Her chin tilted up, stubborn, confirming she wouldn’t say any more. “Call it experience.”

Chapter Text

In a symbolic exchange of the guard, Elena found herself settled in Daniela’s lap. 

“Gentle, Daniela,” Bela commanded, reaching out to adjust her younger sister’s arms, allowing Elena to gasp for air as the pressure over her ribs eased. She was spared a sympathetic smile, one that begged patience and understanding. “She does need to breathe.”

Chastened, Daniela’s supernatural strength eased off; less stranglehold and more straitjacket. “Better?”

“Looser, please,” Elena squirmed.

The arms loosened further, handling her instead as one might a crystalline vase. Elena sucked in a few more grateful breaths while Bela nodded approvingly. “Good,” Bela confirmed.

Daniela smiled, nuzzling the top of her head with her nose. “I’m so excited.”

The whispered confession came with a frenetic edge, a shiver running through her, but Elena could feel the way Daniela tamped it down. It was an impressive show of restraint. The way her muscles slowly eased, breathing deeply and deliberately slowly, marked how serious Daniela was taking her chance.

Despite her nerves, Elena softened, forcing her muscles to relax in turn. She had come to trust that Daniela wouldn’t hurt her, at least not intentionally, and Elena cared about her enough to vow the same. So she leaned back, allowing herself to sink into the embrace.

Daniela made a throaty noise, her fingers tightening bone-white in the fabric of Elena’s sweater. “Oh.”

Cassandra caught Elena’s eye, dark and amused as she planted her chin on an upturned fist, studying them both. Unlike Daniela, she wasn’t pouring with excitement. There was no jealous. There was only patient promise in Cassandra’s eyes, the look of a hunter in a blind, waiting for prey to cross their path.

Oblivious, Daniela’s head snapped over to Bela. “Can we—”

“No,” Bela commanded, settling herself in her chair and leveling Daniela with a stern, knowing look. “Lunch first, then you can drag our sister around the castle to your heart’s content.”

Cassandra piped in. “I’m sure she would love for her big sister to feed her, Dani.”

Elena’s head snapped to her, betrayed—so quick that Cassandra and Bela snickered.

After being practically force-fed her lunch of chicken and vegetables by an over-eager Daniela, Elena was all too glad to scamper away from the table while Cassandra and Bela were still eating. Daniela had barely touched her own food, but Bela only let out an aggrieved sigh and let them go, a few of her flies buzzing along behind.

“Where are we going?” Elena asked, legs skidding a little as Daniela half-dragged her through the castle.

“The library. I want to show you my new books!”

Unsurprising, Daniela practically lived in the castle’s library, after all.

It was a rarity in the castle—a place that the Lady, by her own admission, had ceded complete control of. Daniela was as close as it came to the castle librarian. A self-assigned job she took extremely seriously. If rumors held, Daniela regularly refused to allow maids entrance. She’d heard Bela had to chaperone the unfortunate maids assigned to cleaning, mostly to stop her younger sister from pouncing upon them. It was one of the most dangerous jobs the castle held. 

So, when Daniela nudged her through the enormous doors that made up the castle’s main library, Elena did not know what to expect. Perhaps a scene out of the painting in Bela’s bedroom? Or maybe towers of books, stacked to the ceiling and wobbling if she breathed too hard?

Instead, her jaw fell open.

Daniela draped herself against Elena’s back, chin settling into the curve of her neck. “What do you think?”

“It’s lovely,” Elena breathed. “I understand why you spend so much time here.”

It was clean, orderly, looking as if it had been freshly tidied. There were a dizzying number of bookshelves, climbing all the way up to the ceiling, beyond where even the Lady would be able to reach. Paintings hung where shelves couldn’t. A roaring fire held the centre of the room, curtain-covered windows on either side. In front of the fire sat armchairs and sofas, piled high with furs and blankets. She could imagine Daniela curling up under them on a cold day.

Above everything, a domed skylight hung, allowing glimpses of the sky between flurrying snow. During the warmer season, it would allow pure sunlight to filter in, and the idea of curling up under the rays with a book sounded amazing

Daniela teased her hands down the sides Elena’s arms, coming to hook their fingers together. “Mother calls it my hovel sometimes,” she said, and Elena could feel her cheeky smile. “She doesn’t understand how much work goes in to maintaining everything! I don’t like when people touch my things. When they change things.”

“Is it okay for me to be here?”

“I want you here!” Daniela said, the slightly dark turn of her tone disappearing in favor of pure, fervent excitement. The fingers squeezed warmly around her own. “You can touch anything, I won’t be mad, I promise.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “You wanted to show me your books?”

Daniela perked up at that, letting go of her so suddenly that Elena staggered. Her swarm broke off in a cloud around her, slipping eagerly towards the fireside, and when she reformed she was kneeling near the sofa, only the top of her head visible. “Come!” Daniela called, and there was the sounds of excited rifling. “I have so many!”

Elena took a moment to steady herself and her racing heart, then joined Daniela. She found herself pressed onto the sofa, blankets draped forcibly across her lap, a soft fur blanket arranged over her shoulders like a selkie-skin. Then, Daniela went back to arranging and re-arranging the dozen or so books on the coffee table.

“Bela made me promise not to overwhelm you with all the books I got for us,” Daniela said, running her hands across the covers lovingly, seemingly happy with the arrangement. She turned to beam at Elena. “So I put together a few of the best ones for you to pick from!”

Her heart skipped a beat. 

It always surprised her that for how much of a force of nature Daniela could be, so was also so utterly affectionate. It was daunting, having someone who cared for her so openly and unashamedly. She didn’t quite know what to do with it. It made her feel weak, off-kilter, overpowered by the light feeling bubbling in her chest.

“Thank you, Daniela,” she said, smiling shyly, leaning forward to get a better look. “I don’t know where to start.”

The books were thinner and wider than average. A few had brightly colored pictures and titles, clearly geared towards children. It would have made her face sour, but Elena had never seen a book with pictures before, at least not hand-drawn ones, and was quite fascinated by them. Though, she did veer instead towards another book, this one equally as wide but traditionally leather-bound.

“How about that one?”

Daniela’s eyes lit up as she pointed at it. “Good choice!”

Elena squeaked as Daniela clambered onto the couch next to her, lifting the edge of the blankets up so she could squirm underneath them with her. Despite having an entire sofa, she seemed content to sit as close to Elena as possible. She set the book in Elena’s lap so she could read the gold-embossed cover.

“Village of Shadows,” Elena read aloud, running her fingers over it. 

A mysterious smile came over Daniela’s face. “This one’s special. It was a gift.”

“A gift?” Elena asked suspiciously. “From who?”

Daniela didn’t answer, confirming once more that the Dimitrescu ability to be obtuse was definitely hereditary. She just smiled again, so much like the painting in Bela’s room that Elena was struck once again by how real it was. Then, she reached over to flip open the book. 

“Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries…”

Daniela read to her for an hour or two, book after book. She put on all the voices, more than once forcing Elena to help her act out her favorite scenes.

The final book was a stereotypical fairytale, a knight rescuing a princess from a tower guarded by a dragon. Daniela went as far as to throw a blanket dramatically over her shoulders like a cape, scooping a shrieking Elena off the sofa, setting her on the rug by the fire and dropping a kiss on her cheek to ‘wake her up’. 

It was all absurd and childish and, strangely, fun.

“I’ve saved the princess,” Daniela declared, flopping dramatically on top of her, weighing Elena down and giggling when she squirmed in protest beneath her. She buried her face into the crook of her neck, nipping ever so slightly over the raised pink marks Cassandra had left behind. “Now, she’s all mine forever.”

Elena let out a throaty noise, reaching up without thought to grip the back of her hair. “I-I don’t think that’s how the story goes!”

“Well, if I wrote the story, it would have a much more fun ending,” Daniela said, deliberately rubbing her cheek into the curve of her neck and shoulder.

Elena knew enough now about the Dimitrescu women’s strange otherness to know she was apparently scenting her. More importantly, she knew enough about how the Lady had reacted to know it definitely wasn’t something she should be doing.

Her hands tightened in Daniela’s hair, making her hiss. “Dani, you shouldn’t—”

But she needn’t have spoken.

There was a noise close by, loud in the silence, the threatening buzz of insect wings. 

“Fine,” Daniela huffed, pushing herself up on her hands to hover. “We were almost done here anyway.”

The words were sullen, angry, but not pointed at Elena.

There was another buzz of insect wings, and Elena startled as a familiar fly darted by her face, hovering for the briefest moment by her neck—and, perhaps satisfied by no new marks, buzzed quietly away. It did dance once around Daniela’s face, earning it a snap of the teeth, but then it disappeared out of sight.

Daniela grumbled, flopping loudly onto her side on the rug beside Elena. Her voice lowered, knuckles brushing Elena’s, tone shifting back to something sweet and warm. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” Elena replied, staring up at the snow piling onto the skylight above them. She felt warm, too warm, with Daniela at one side and the fire on the other. But she didn’t dare move. “It was…nice.”

A brilliant smile lit up her peripheral. “I’ll read to you any time,” Daniela vowed, tangling her fingers carefully with Elena’s, then using them to pull Elena to her feet as she rose to her own. “Bela and Cassandra are boring, they’ve never let me read to them.”

There was something in her voice that sounded lonely, the plight of the youngest sister that wanted someone to dote on. Absurdly, the idea made her chest clench. She squeezed Daniela’s hand in her own. Their shoulders bumped as they stood.

Feeling soft and disarmed, Elena chanced giving her a small smile in return. “I’d like that.”

Daniela beamed.

Reading was not all that was on Daniela’s agenda.

They had a few hours left together, and Daniela seemed ready to make the most of them. She tugged Elena around the castle hand-in-hand, seemingly overjoyed by being able to lead her anywhere and terrorize anyone she wanted. This included bursting in on Bela in her office just to show off that Elena was hers, earning an eye-roll before they were shooed back out again.

At one point, Daniela dragged her into a reluctant raid on the kitchen—startling all of the staff except Sylvia, who let out a long-suffering sigh and pressed a thick slice of cake to share into Elena’s hand. They ate it on the main hall stairs with a shared fork, giggling, startling a passing maid so badly she dropped her mop bucket.

Elena distracted Daniela with asking about the paintings in the hall until the maid could scurry to freedom. It turned out that Daniela had painted half, and the rest were her mother’s. The questions seemed to remind Daniela of the next destination on her whirlwind tour, because cake forgotten, she sprang up and tugged Elena back towards the daughter’s wing of the castle.

“Where are we going?” Elena asked, feet skidding again—she’d long given up fighting, resigned to being caught in Hurricane Daniela, only trying her best to tame the chaos when it approached innocent bystanders.

Daniela just hummed. “You’ll see! It’ll be fun, I promise!”

Daniela dragged her through the daughter’s wing, passing by Bela’s office once again, then to a door at the end of the hall. This one bore the familiar Dimitrescu sigil in golden filigree, and Daniela had to unlock it with the ornate golden key from the chain around her neck. 

“This,” Daniela said, nosing her inside and closing the door behind them, “is the atelier—mine, anyway, Mother has her own.”

She’d never heard the word before, but it wasn’t hard for her to figure out what it meant. It was an art studio, the entire room filled to the brim with art supplies, paintings and sketches. Elena inhaled deeply, the smell of turpentine and linseed oil thick in the air. “This is all yours?”

“Mostly,” Daniela hummed, showing her around the room. “Bela comes to watch sometimes, but she’s pretty busy. Cassandra uses it, but she prefers sketching to painting.”

Elena mentally filed that away, alongside Cassandra’s apparent talent for singing and playing musical instruments. “She does?”

Instead of answering, Daniela led her over to a hanging rack full of art. She plucked a piece from the top and set it gently in Elena’s hands, letting her study the staggeringly realistic sketch of one of the creatures from the cellar, the moroaică. It made her grimace with the memory of it chasing her, the chill of its grey skin and disgusting teeth as it held her close enough to bite.

She shivered, handing the picture back to Daniela. “I don’t like those things.”

“I think they’re sad,” Daniela said, sounding genuine as she studied it. “But Mother says they’re good for protection.”

“What are they?”

Daniela cocked her head briefly, then shook her head as she set the drawing back down. She painted on a fierce expression. “Don’t worry, they can’t get you. I’ll keep you safe!”

Elena looked back at her, eyes narrowing. Though Daniela could be as secretive as her sisters, it was clear she wasn’t as used to dodging a direct question. The deflection was clunky, obvious. Still, she had little chance to pursue the thread, because Daniela steamrolled on without waiting for a response.

“I’ve been working on this for a little while,” Daniela said, tugging Elena over to a painting covered by a thick dust cloth, yanking it off. Her voice lowered, a little shy, nervous. “What do you think?”

“Dani, it’s stunning. When did you…?”

“I started forever ago,” Daniela replied, eyes flickering between Elena and the canvas at high speed. “I could never get close enough to get the color of your eyes right before.”

Elena reached her hand out as if to touch the canvas, but snatched it back at the last moment. It was the only painting or picture of herself she’d ever seen. She studied the softness of her cheeks, her wide blue eyes, the wavy reds of her hair. It was the work of days, weeks, months even. By her own admission, Daniela had likely started this before everything.

Perhaps it should have startled her to have been painted like that without her knowledge. It was further confirmation of the obsession, that they’d had their eyes on her for much longer. But Elena was used to the family’s ways by now, accustomed to worse things they did in the name of love. This, at least, felt like a gift.

“I love it,” she said, turning back to Daniela now.

For the umpteenth time that day, Daniela’s eyes blossomed with excitement and affection. She surged forward, squeezing Elena in a rib-creaking hug. “I knew you would!” She inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of Elena’s shampoo. It seemed to bring her a fraction of calm, but she was shaking with excitement, almost vibrating as she rocked them both side-to-side. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

Elena wheezed. “Air!”

“Oops,” Daniela eased the hug a little, but stayed close, breathing her in. “Better?”

“Better,” Elena confirmed and, despite being out of her comfort zone and startled by the fierce hug, decided to allow Daniela the only gift she could give her in return. She lifted her arms to wrap around her too, squeezing tentatively back. “Thank you.”

She felt a little stupid now to have been so worried since she’d found out that the Lady would be leaving, for how much dread she’d been in. That morning when she’d woken up, just after dawn, the bed empty—she’d been angry, upset, but scared more than anything. Now, in the face of comforting hours spent with Bela and affectionate ones with Daniela? She couldn’t remember why she’d been so worried.

Daniela made a low, whining noise into the hug. It sounded pained.

Elena hesitated, worried she’d done something wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to give you back,” Daniela said, and she sounded devastated—like the concept of existing without Elena now that she had a taste was simply too much to bear. She held her closer, like she was afraid someone would steal her away. “It’s not fair.”

As per usual, dealing with Daniela was a study in emotional whiplash, but Elena was becoming used to rolling with her rapid shifts. She was beginning to understand them herself, because her own emotions felt overactive day-by-day. Daniela’s were just more vocal.

“Don’t be upset,” Elena pleaded, trying her best to smile reassuringly. “We’ve got time, right?”

Daniela whined again like a kicked puppy, but nodded slowly.

“Then let’s do something fun.”

By the time Bela came to collect her, Elena’s hands were absolutely covered in paint.

As was the rest of her.

“Well,” Bela said slowly as she looked between a paint-covered Elena and an absolutely paint-drenched Daniela. “I suppose she’s not harmed.”

Daniela grinned unrepentantly. “I’m teaching our sister how to paint!”

“Herself, more than the canvas it appears,” Bela said, and she seemed torn between being stern and wanting to laugh. She settled for a familiar, long-suffering sigh instead, settling her hands on her hips. “Well, show me the masterpiece.”

Elena tried fruitlessly to wipe the paint off of her hands with a few stray rags as Bela approached. It was a useless effort, it caked her from nails to wrist, smearing horribly. Her shirt was beyond saving, covered in paint splatters and conspicuous handprints despite the apron she wore. At least she’d thought to whip off her sweater, the fluffy beige material set safely on a stool. 

She shifted nervously foot-to-foot as Bela studied the canvas. “I’m not very good. I’ve never painted before.”

“Nobody is good at everything on their first try,” Bela said, taking in the painting—a jumble of vivid colors, smeared and smudged across the canvas by fingers rather than brushes, Elena’s clumsy ones obvious next to Daniela’s. There was little order or technique to it, but the lack of restraint was charming. “I think it will go nicely on my wall.”

Elena’s head shot to her, alarmed. “It will?”

“Well it is rather too big to go on the refrigerator,” she said, and there was a teasing note to Bela’s voice. She reached out, plucking a strand of hair free that had crusted to a smear of pink paint on Elena’s cheek. “That is, if you don’t mind, Daniela?”

Daniela grinned. “You can have it! I’m going to give her lessons!”

It was a promise Elena had extracted from her, borne of genuine desire to learn. Though Daniela had insisted she couldn’t start with actual brushes until she could learn to have fun with painting first, Elena was excited about it. She’d never done anything like it before, but it was fascinating. She imagined it sort of like cooking, the ability to create something from scratch with your own hands. 

“And you, little sister?” Bela asked, turning back to Elena now.

She glanced away, thankful the paint covered her pink cheeks. “If you want it.”

The painting would clash horribly with everything else in Bela’s room. She couldn’t fathom her hanging it up. Though it was better Bela have it than her mother, who Elena was half-convinced would make a theatrical production of the whole affair.

“I do,” Bela confirmed, smiling indulgently. However, she did throw Daniela a pointed look. “Though if there are to be lessons, perhaps cleanliness should be among the first.”

Daniela sniffed haughtily, standing straighter and deepening her voice, clearly in imitation of the Lady. “One cannot rush themselves through the artistic process, Bela.”

“One cannot,” Bela acknowledged, lip quirking. “But Mother may take issue with having to run our little sister an emergency bath after every lesson.”

Elena’s head snapped to her. “Bath?”

“You’ve got paint in your hair,” Bela pointed out, smiling wryly at the role-reversal. “Though Cassandra may prefer to let her things get filthy, Mother will have my head if I let you run around the castle looking like you’ve rolled yourself atop a canvas. A bath is in order. You too, Daniela.”

Daniela whined. “But—”

“Clean up here, then go,” Bela said, sterner now. “I’ll expect you clean at dinner.”

The scrunch of Daniela’s face mirrored Elena’s, though certainly for different reasons. “Fine.”

“What about Cassandra?” Elena piped in, hesitant. “Won’t she be waiting?”

“She’ll be fine. I’m certain she’ll be glad for more time to scheme.” Bela’s tone of voice was dry, making it clear that she had very little trust in Cassandra—which was unsurprising, considering they had locked blades over Elena not so long ago. “Let’s not keep her waiting any longer than we must. Say goodbye to Daniela.”

Daniela’s face dropped once more, pained by the prospect of letting Elena go. “I’ll miss you, sister.”

“I had fun,” Elena admitted softly, reaching out to catch Daniela’s paint-smeared hands in her own, watching the colors mix. She squeezed her hand, quietly satisfied when Daniela’s face lit up once again, then let it go. “I’ll see you later?”

Daniela nodded, eyes sad but warm—she leaned in quickly, pressing her lips to Elena’s cheek, ignoring the sticky paint that ended up on her lips. “Tell Cassandra she better take care of you, or I’ll come steal you away.”

Elena smiled. “I will.”

Chapter Text

“I can do it myself.”

Bela continuing to scrub at Elena’s arm. “No.”

She sighed, blowing a wet strand of hair out of her face. “It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Bela replied sternly, though there was a gleam of something close to amusement in her eye. “Just relax.”

Elena sighed again but abandoned the token protests, knowing from experience that it wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She swirled her free hand through the water, watching a dozen bubbles pop. Bela was right, anyway. She wasn’t uncomfortable, not physically, but sometimes defensiveness came easier than vulnerability. 

The bathtub felt enormous without the Lady to fill it. Bela, who had already had a bath, sat on a stool instead. She held Elena’s arm by the wrist, scrubbing at her with a washcloth. It felt weird to face her like this, all awkward angles and eye contact. The water was lower than usual, barely to the top of Elena’s chest, but with far too many bubbles. She hunched over slightly, knees to chest. It was all wrong, and she huffed again in quiet frustration.

“Stop sighing,” Bela chided gently, working between her fingers to get green-blue splotches out. “We’re almost done.”

Elena was half-tempted to sigh again, but thought better of it. Though Bela was more mild than her mother, allowing Elena to push her, it made her line in the sand much less clear. Despite her discomfort, being cared for was better than being reprimanded, so she bit her tongue.

After a few minutes of stubborn silence, Bela shook her head at her.

“You seemed to enjoy your time with Daniela today,” she noted, allowing Elena’s lobster-red arm to slip back into the water. She reached expectantly for the other hand, a small smile pulling at her lips. “It was rather sweet watching her drag you all over the castle.”

Elena placed her hand into Bela’s. “She was…excited.”

Bela’s laugh echoed loudly. “An understatement, I think. She was rather elated about spending time with you. Mother had to have a very long talk with her last night.”

“She did?”

“Setting ground rules,” Bela said, working paint from Elena’s right arm; it trickled in colorful trails down her elbow, dripping into the water and turning some of the bubbles a weird, shimmery mix of colors that Elena studied curiously. “Though she restrained herself rather impressively, mess aside.”

Humming, Elena popped one of the colorful bubbles, avoiding Bela’s eyes. “I had fun with her. It was nice.”

The admission was a genuine one, one she was helpless to deny, much as she wanted to. Elena knew she should be alarmed by the way these women were wriggling their way past her defenses. In her most coherent moments, she was alarmed, but increasingly that part of her was drowned out.  

“I’m glad,” Bela replied, thumbing her wrist. “Mother will be pleased.”

Before she could stop herself, Elena blurted out, “Do you think she’ll be back tomorrow?”

Bela smiled knowingly. “I don’t know,” she admitted, chasing a magenta streak up the back of Elena’s hand. “But I’m sure she’ll come home as soon as she can. Mother doesn’t like leaving us for long.”

“If she doesn’t come back tomorrow,” Elena began carefully, head down. A tinge of vulnerability came to her voice, no matter how she tried to smother it, a desire to seek certainty in her uncertain circumstances. “What am I supposed to do?”

“To be fed, clothed, kept safe. Simple things,” Bela said, wiping the last of the paint away from her hand then squeezing it between her own. “There is ample time to decide what tomorrow looks like, but I’m sure we can fill in the time somehow. Lest we forget, you do have an entire room full of toys to play with.”

Elena’s face scrunched up. “Right.”

Bela flicked her nose gently, startling a yelp out of her. “Don’t be ungrateful,” she teased, voice light. “I’m sure tomorrow will be just as fun—even if Mother isn’t home to join us.”

She rubbed her nose. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Bela said, standing and moving to grab a fluffy, oversized towel. “Now, let’s get you out of there. If we dally much longer, Cassandra may get impatient, and I don’t wish to explain any property damage to Mother.”

As it turned out, Cassandra had become impatient.

She was sprawled out on the bed when they returned to the Lady’s bedchambers, reclining dramatically amongst scattered pillows and ruffled blankets. There were even more of them on the floor, tossed like a bored cat batting a glass off the table. She was on her back, arms held aloft and turning a familiar stuffed wolf side-to-side with an inscrutable expression. 

Elena startled at the sight of her, pulling her oversized towel tighter over her shoulders.

Bela puffed out an irritated breath at the mess, eyes closing to gather strength, then apparently deciding to let it go—no doubt some poor maid would be sent scurrying up to tidy after her. “Apologies for the delay, sister,” she said instead. “Daniela decided it would be fun to teach our little sister how to paint.”

Cassandra rolled over, dropping the wolf to the floor among a pile of toys and pillows. It earned her a warning look from Bela which made her smirk, only growing wider when she caught the disgruntled look on Elena’s face. “I thought you’d forgotten about me,” she said, a theatrically sad tone to her voice. She planted her chin on an upturned palm. “I suppose this means I get to keep her a little longer.”

“Until dinner,” Bela said firmly, settling a reassuring hand between Elena’s shoulders, thumbing away some of the anxious tension building there. “Bring her back safely.”

“Why, Bela, it’s as if you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” Bela replied immediately, voice dry. “I just worry about your priorities. Do not take her down to the cellar.”

Cassandra flapped a hand. “I’m not stupid, I do have some sense of self-preservation.”

Elena snorted quietly, unable to help herself.

“Oh? What’s so funny, sister?” Cassandra replied, eyes dark and full of promise when they met Elena’s own. It was the playful look of a cat rolling a mouse between its paws, one that said she enjoyed watching her squirm. 

Wisely, Elena held her tongue.

Bela shook her head at them both, nudging Elena further in the direction of the wardrobe to choose her outfit for the evening. “Any preferences?”

She was surprised by the question, eyes darting back up to look at Bela—only to realize that she wasn’t looking in Elena’s direction, but in Cassandra’s. The middle child smiled roguishly, mouth opening.

“Appropriate suggestions only,” Bela cut in.

“You’re no fun,” Cassandra snickered, rolling her eyes. “Something easy to move in. Not too baggy.”

Bela hummed suspiciously, but clearly thought better of asking. She combed through the wardrobe carefully, choosing and discarding outfits, all the while Elena stood awkwardly next to her and tried to quell the relentless flip-flopping of her stomach. She couldn’t imagine just what easy to move in implied for their time together. She trusted Cassandra not to hurt her, but that didn’t mean her ideas would be enjoyable.

Cassandra didn’t enlighten her either, simply watching Elena closely, smile a little too wide—a slash of menacing white against the dark lipstick.

“This?”

“Cute,” Cassandra snickered in particular at the pastel-yellow sweatshirt with little bees embroidered all over, accompanied by a shirt and pants. “It’ll do.”

Elena couldn’t quite hide her grimace, earning an even louder snicker from Cassandra and an amused smile from Bela. Admittedly, embroidery aside, the color was nice. It was nothing like the vibrant marigold-dyed fabrics she’d seen in the village, shades softer. She could tell without needing to touch it that it would be soft, too. 

Bela tucked her clothes over her arm, herding Elena back towards the bed. It took her a moment to catch on, but Elena dug her heels into the rug once she realized what came next, stubbornly shaking her head in refusal. “Bela,” she protested, voice low, pleading.

Bela touched Elena’s hand softly, a reassuring brush of her fingers over Elena’s. “Cassandra, would you leave us for a few moments?”

“Aw,” Cassandra gave an exaggerated pout, head cocked. “I don’t get to stay to watch the show?”

Elena’s shoulders rounded self-consciously, a defensive glower coming to her face, head dropping to study her own bare feet.

Bela’s tone changed, more pointed. “I’d hate to waste more of your time together, sister.”

A low, drawn out groan came from Cassandra, but then there was buzzing and a sudden rush of air. Elena didn’t jump, but her eyes did shoot up to meet Cassandra’s own dark ones as she reformed inches away. She stared, breath frozen in her lungs, as Cassandra leaned in.

“Tick, tock,” Cassandra whispered, lips skimming her cheek to settle by her ear. “I don’t like waiting.”

A shiver danced down her spine.

Bela muttered something too low for Elena to hear over the sound of her own heart, but it made Cassandra chuckle. Cassandra leaned away from Elena and towards Bela, exchanging sounds more buzzes than words. Whatever was said, Bela’s face soured but she reluctantly nodded.

“Fine,” Bela allowed, touching Elena’s lower back soothingly. “Now go.”

“Thank you, sister,” Cassandra purred, darting forward to press a teasing kiss to Bela’s cheek. Then she twisted a coil of Elena’s damp hair between her fingers, offering both of them a feral smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Don’t look so nervous.”

Elena couldn’t fully wipe the look off of her face as Cassandra shut her bedroom door behind them. She was still faintly red-faced and puffy-cheeked, even after being handed off by Bela and walked across the castle, Cassandra’s hand around her wrist. Though logically she knew she wasn’t actually in danger, and that Bela’s flies were lingering respectfully outside waiting for her to call, her body didn’t listen to her mind.

“I told you, I won’t bite this time,” Cassandra said, eyeing the pink scars peeking above the neck of her sweater, teeth flashing in a smile. “Not unless you ask me nicely.”

Absurdly, the teasing words eased a little of the tension in Elena’s shoulders. “No, thank you.”

Cassandra snorted in amusement, but said nothing else, releasing her hold on Elena’s wrist and allowing her the luxury of not being led around like she might slip the leash and make a run for it.

Elena busied herself with studying Cassandra’s bedroom. It was much the same as she remembered, dark and moody as the woman herself, any hint of the previous destruction cleared away. The only lingering sign of her mother’s wrath was the absence of Cassandra’s trinkets, though there were some half-finished garlands of bone twined together on her vanity. 

Cassandra caught the direction of her stare. “What do you think?”

Elena recalled Bela’s story about Cassandra’s idea of gifts, and feared that she might somehow end up with something like a dreamcatcher made of bones and spider silk. She pointedly dodged the question. “Are those…human?”

“You tell me,” Cassandra replied, shepherding her closer so Elena could peer hesitantly at them. She arranged herself along Elena’s back, tucking her chin into Elena’s neck and throwing an arm casually over her other shoulder, keeping her there as they peered over the bones and sinewy thread. “Look carefully.”

Elena shivered lightly at the casual, almost possessive touch. It spoke to how accustomed she had become to those sorts of touches when all her body did was lean instinctively back.

The bones were old, bleached white and clean. There was something familiar about their shapes. Not human, she decided. She studied the curve of what she thought was a femur closely. She didn’t have the iron heart or stomach for butchery, but as a young woman she’d seen her father prepare slaughtered animals often enough. The bones reminded her of a goat’s, but bigger.

“A…deer, maybe?”

“Good eye,” Cassandra praised, and Elena felt her smile. “I caught a stag last summer. Mother hung the skull in the drawing room, she thought the antlers were quite lovely. But I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest until Mother’s little rampage.”

A pang of guilt hit her. “I’m sorry.”

“I was getting tired of the same old stuff anyway,” Cassandra said casually, slipping away from Elena’s back with a little shrug. She offered a half-feral grin, eyes glowing with something hungry. “Besides, now I get a chance to try some new things. So many little projects. How exciting.”

Elena shivered again, worried for what that meant for the staff. “…Right.”

“Don’t look so worried, you aren’t my project,” Cassandra retorted, smile tilting a fraction wider, amused. She turned around, moving towards her wardrobe, bending to retrieve something from the cover of a dozen hanging dresses. “But there is something you can do to make the whole thing up to me.”

She squinted. “How?”

“Promise not to cry,” Cassandra said, tugging something free and beckoning Elena over to her bed. “Sit down.”

Her heart pounded at the possibilities, and she cautiously perched on the very edge of the bed, poised to take flight at a moment’s notice.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, nudging Elena further up the bed until the back of her knees met the edge. Her feet dangled helplessly a few inches above the floor, earning her a small chuckle. “Here,” Cassandra thrust a bag into her hands. “For you.”

“It’s not a human head, is it?”

It was much too small and too light for that, but she was only somewhat joking.

“Maybe next time,” Cassandra snorted, draping herself next to Elena on the bed. She leaned back slightly on her palms, chin tilted towards the ceiling but watching her out of the corner of her eyes. “Just open it.”

Elena allowed her curiosity to outweigh her dread. Tugging on the thin cord holding it closed, she peered inside. 

“Oh.”

Cassandra hummed. “No tears.”

Elena held them back by sheer will, eyes misty, blinking rapidly to try and clear them. She pulled out a painfully familiar, battered old photo frame. The photograph inside was faded with time, but she traced her parents’ faces with a reverent hand.

“I thought everything I had would be gone by now,” she whispered, voice wobbly.

“Mother had me retrieve everything that first night and bring it to her,” Cassandra said, peering at the photo frame, her tone casual but her eyes dark and serious. “I stole that one back. Mother will kill me if she finds out, so don’t expect me to bring you anything else.”

“This is worth more to me than anything to me, thank you,” Elena said fiercely, clutching the photo frame protectively. “But…why?”

Cassandra shrugged, blasé. “A little rule breaking is fun now and then, don’t you think?”

“The real reason, Cassandra. Please.”

She looked away from Elena’s misty gaze, studying a display case on the wall that held pinned butterflies. “You saved my life. You lied to Mother for me. Now we’re even.”

“I didn’t do it for a favor. It was my fault you were down there.”

“I know,” Cassandra replied, voice low, her usual teasing faltering. She seemed unaccustomed to being thanked, uncomfortable with her own gesture. “But you could have left me. Mother taught us to repay our debts.”

“You never owed me,” she insisted again. “But thank you for keeping it safe for me.”

Elena eased the photo frame from her chest, setting it in her lap and running her fingertips around the edges. It was a wedding portrait, her parents baby-faced and smiling. It was the only picture she had of them. She had almost forgotten about the bump of her mother’s nose, the curly red of her father’s hair; time-smudged details she eagerly soaked in.

“Mother can’t find out about this, she’d rather a…clean slate,” Cassandra said, then her voice began to slip back into the usual theatrical, over-exaggerated flirting where she seemed most comfortable. She winked. “I’ll look after them for you. It’ll be our little secret. I suppose it gives you an incentive to pay your big sister a visit.”

There was something about it that nagged at Elena—words like debts and incentive, concepts that turned relationships impersonal, transactional, keeping others at arm’s length no matter how playful or flirtatious she acted.

Her stomach twisted, not anxiety, but an urge to reach out and bridge the gap.

She hazarded a glance at her. “I don’t need an incentive to spend time with you.”

“Our sisters are turning you into a romantic,” Cassandra retorted, eyes dark. “I don’t need pretty words from you, Elena. Try again when you mean it.”

The use of her name made Elena flinch. Cassandra’s tone wasn’t angry, but it still felt like her hand had been slapped.

There was a brutal, undeniable truth to it: now matter how genuine the words felt, they both knew that if Elena was given a choice, she’d be out the door in a heartbeat.

Elena ducked her head further, saying nothing.

Cassandra sighed, loud and put-upon, leaning over so their shoulders brushed, a subtle reassurance cloaked behind absent affection. “You’re brave, that’s what I like about you. But you’re still figuring out your baby teeth, don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

For once, Elena felt it wasn’t necessarily a jab at their perception of her age—at least, not entirely. It was a reminder that she was, in comparison, a child playing an adult’s game. Cassandra didn’t appreciate even well-intentioned attempts at lies or manipulation.

“I won’t.”

“You probably will,” Cassandra’s voice was light-hearted, the return to teasing marking that she’d been forgiven, like a dog licking the wound after a bite. Absurdly, it made Elena’s shoulders ease. “You’re very good at getting yourself into trouble, aren’t you?” 

Elena was self-aware enough to be unable to deny that. 

Since becoming theirs, she had developed an alarming streak for getting herself into trouble. Part of it was self-preservation, driving her to do things out of desperation. The rest? A slow slip of control from between her fingers, impulse driving her in a way it had rarely done before.

Cassandra reached out, coaxing the photo frame from her hands and setting it carefully on her bedside table. Then, she pressed a finger between Elena’s creased brows, scrubbing the frown away. “You get this pinch right here when you’re thinking big thoughts. Don’t worry your little head so much.”

Elena scowled at the patronizing words. “Worrying is all I can do.”

“Not true,” Cassandra grinned. “You’re also pretty good at throwing tantrums and crying a lot.”

She gazed flatly back, all too aware of the angry flush rising to her cheeks.

“And giving me that look, like you’re imagining the places you could bury my body.” Cassandra cackled now, boisterous and feral laughter. “It’s adorable.”

Elena made an angry noise, moving to slip off the bed.

Cassandra reached after her, quick as a viper, tugging until Elena ended up flopped over in her lap.

“Don’t be silly, you already tried to run away from me once,” she reminded airily, stroking her back like one might a dog, ignoring the way Elena bristled under the touch. “I promised I’d catch you if you tried again, remember?”

She sputtered. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t I? Are you going to tell on me?” Cassandra retorted, cutting through the beginning of her protests. Her fingertips pressed firmly into the tense muscles near Elena’s spine, just as she had that night in the dark, finding all the places that made her go slack. “I’m only playing with you, little one. No need to go running into Bela’s arms just yet.”

She let out an irritated grumble, but stayed where she was, chin resting on Cassandra’s thigh as she kneaded her back like a cat. It was only a little humiliating, far less than Elena’s usual manhandling. At least the result was pleasant. Her hands, stretched out in front of her, coiled into the covers as massaging fingers worked under her right shoulder. 

Cassandra snickered at how pliant she was. “See? No need for big thoughts, just relax.”

Elena rolled her eyes at the relentless teasing, pressing the point of her chin deeper into the meat of Cassandra’s thigh as comeuppance. It earned her nothing but an overly pleased noise. Sighing loudly, she turning her head away and rested her ear on Cassandra’s thigh instead.

Cassandra laughed openly at her reaction, but kept touching her softly.

Elena just submitted to the coaxing, leaning into her massage like a dog eager to be pet.

Long minutes passed like that, broken only by Cassandra’s occasional teasing remarks. Elena barely paid her half a mind, eyes closing. Embarrassingly, her body had become alarmingly used to sporadic naps and lazy afternoons, so lying still had sluggishness creeping up on her like an old friend.

“Now, now, no falling asleep on me,” Cassandra called, reaching out with her thumb to raise her eyelid, ignoring Elena’s mumbling protests. “As adorable as this all is, I did have plans for us today, you know. Your little bath-time adventure has us behind schedule.”

Elena reluctantly sat up, rubbing at the red mark on her cheek and smothering a yawn. “What kind of plans?”

“Don’t sound so suspicious, sister.” Cassandra smiled mischievously. “Daniela got to show you her idea of fun, I thought I might show you mine.”

“What is this place?”

“The armory,” Cassandra answered, tucking the large key back into her pocket and waiting for Elena to step inside. She closed the door heavily behind, slamming a wooden bar down, thick enough that it looked like it would hold up against a battering ram. “Isn’t it great?”

She glanced around the room, dubious. The windows offered a view of distant mountains, barely able to be glimpsed between the heavy snow. A fireplace was set in the corner, freshly stoked and casting the room in warm light, bouncing off of polished knights armor. There were weapons everywhere, enough to repel an invasion. Most were sealed behind glass, but there were stacks of crates in the corner full to the brim with swords and cannonballs.

Elena chewed her lip. “…Should I be in here?”

“Probably not,” Cassandra snickered. “But as long as I keep you safe and don’t break Mother’s rules, we can do whatever I want.”

“This doesn’t feel very safe,” she said, peering nervously at a crate full of rusty swords, then back towards the door. Bela’s flies hadn’t seemed to protest when Cassandra tried to bring her inside, so she supposed she wasn’t lying. But it still felt odd in comparison to the surveillance over her time with Daniela. “Bela wouldn’t even let me use a kitchen knife.”

“Of course not, Bela’s overprotective and terrified of displeasing Mother,” Cassandra retorted, tugging Elena by the back of the shirt, pulling her a half-step back from the open blades. “But weapons don’t hurt people, idiots who don’t know what they’re doing do. You’re not going to be one of them, are you, little one?”

“No.”

“Good, then there’s a few simple rules,” Cassandra said, her hand cuffing once again around Elena’s wrist like a possessive leash, leading her over to a little workbench in the corner. She released her, then picked something up from a folded cloth, pressing it into Elena’s palm. “The first rule: if I don’t hand it to you, don’t touch it.”

Elena stiffened as Cassandra coaxed her to hold the hilt of the knife correctly, but relaxed quickly once she realized it wasn’t a real knife. The handle was wrapped in a comfortable material, but the ‘blade’ was nothing more than a few inches of carved wood that had been carefully sanded blunt.

“Second rule: the pointy-end goes away from you,” Cassandra continued, adjusting her arm carefully. “If you have to choose, better someone else’s chest than your own.”

She stared at the wooden edge. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Try not to get a splinter,” Cassandra replied, corner of her lip dragging up. At Elena’s flat look, she outright laughed. “Don’t be so greedy, I could hardly give you a real one, now could I? Baby steps, little one. It’s much too early for that.”

The patronizing made her clench her hand tighter around the hilt. “That’s not what I meant.”

Cassandra ignored her, nudging her further into the center of the room, carefully steering away from the display cases and crates. “Go on,” she coaxed. “Give it a try.”

Sighing, she gave it an awkward swing.

“Adorable, but no,” Cassandra offered, circling her slowly, almost predatorily. “What do you think you have in your hand?”

Elena frowned. “A piece of wood.”

“A very threatening piece of wood,” Cassandra snorted, nudging Elena’s elbow up once again. “I hear you’re good at playing pretend, so I want you to pretend it’s a real knife. It’s a weapon, not a tool—don’t swing it like you’re going to chop carrots with it.”

“Then how am I supposed to swing it?”

“With intent,” Cassandra said, voice lowering. “Like you know what it does and you’re ready to use it.”

All of the hair on the back of her neck stood up. “Why?”

“I suppose I’m paranoid,” Cassandra replied, her usual smile gone. Her hand closed tight over Elena’s, guiding the wooden edge to her chest, pressing it over her heart. “We’ll protect you tooth and claw, you know that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

The swift, honest answer surprised her with how quickly it came, but she had seen it in action so many times now. Their love may have been unwanted and obsessive at times, but their devotion was not a lie.

“Daniela and Bela believe the world of Mother, they think she is infallible.” There was a seriousness on her face, rare and honed to an intense point. “Nobody is infallible. Everyone makes mistakes, even Mother—and I want you prepared.”

Elena swallowed, a small pulse of fear thrumming in her. “Prepared for what?”

“Everything,” Cassandra said simply, pressing the dull wood to her chest until the skin went bone-white and Elena could feel each of her words vibrate through the hilt. “A wayward lycan, a maid with dreams of revenge, an intruder who wants to take us down. Mother may not approve, but I want you ready.”

It opened a world of danger she had never considered before—beyond the safety of being theirs, there were dangers too. Her hand trembled on the hilt of the knife. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” Cassandra said, a small curve to her lip that was more fond than anything Elena had seen from her before—a look that said she was remembering that despite their fight, Elena came back for her. “But sometimes you have to make a choice: you or them. I want you to be equipped to make the right one.”

Elena sucked in a breath, uncertain. 

“There’s reward in protecting the things that are important to you,” Cassandra coaxed instead, her fingers squeezing affectionately over Elena’s. “You should value yourself enough to be one of those things.”

Coming from anyone else, the words would have felt honeyed. Coming from Cassandra, who didn’t believe in lying to preserve anyone’s feelings, they clawed their way inside and sank somewhere in the chambers of her heart, thrumming in time to its suddenly thundering rhythm. 

Elena had not felt pride in a while, but deep inside she did value herself—why else had she been fighting for so long?

“Good,” Cassandra praised, studying the familiar fire in her eyes. She released her hold over Elena’s hand, pleased by the way her grip didn’t falter, though Elena did let the knife come away to rest at her hip. Cassandra smiled, sharp teeth and pure pleasure. Her hand came up, fingertips tapping over Elena’s heart through her sweater. “Remember how that feels. It’d be too boring if you lost that fight of yours.”

She snorted. “Tell that to your mother.”

“Our mother,” Cassandra corrected, taking a step back. A mocking little smile came to her face, her usual levity returning. “Oh, but you prefer Mommy, don’t you?”

Humiliation swelled as hot anger in her belly, but she stamped it down. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Oh?” Cassandra asked, blasé. “Is it working?”

“A little.”

“Good,” Cassandra grinned, reaching out to touch her elbow—but Elena raised it stubbornly herself, trying her best to imitate the posture Cassandra had shown her. The move earned her a satisfied chuckle. “Such a quick learner. I can’t wait to see what you’ll become when you grow up. Go on, try again.”

She gestured slightly with it. “Aren’t you going to move—”

Cassandra held her hands up to either side, the picture of harmlessness—except for the wooden training knife that danced in her grip, spinning back and forth in her palm. “Oops, too slow.”

“When did you…?”

Cassandra snickered, but turned the knife around, offering it back to her. 

Elena reached for it, but Cassandra jerked it just out of reach, dangling it above her head teasingly. When she reached again, Cassandra dangled it higher. She growled, a wordless angry noise but refused to debase herself by leaning up on her tiptoes. Instead she glowered. “You’re the worst.”

“I really am,” Cassandra cackled, lowering it and pressing it into Elena’s palm. “Try again.”

She scowled. “I don’t want to.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Cassandra cooed, reaching out to pinch her cheek like a small child, tugging it a little and ignoring her grumbling and batting at it. “Nobody likes a sore loser.”

Elena smacked her hand away, earning a throaty laugh from Cassandra. 

“Go on,” Cassandra coaxed, hand dropping. “Try again. I’ll let you have a free shot.”

Suspicious, she narrowed her eyes.

“No tricks, I promise. I bet not too long ago you would have dreamed of the chance.”

Elena hesitated. 

“Don’t think, just do.”

Without a second thought, Elena swung the wooden blade out towards Cassandra. It was a little clumsy, half-thrust and half-swing. Without Cassandra’s guidance, it ended up pointed at her belly rather than her chest. Instinctively though she pulled back before it made contact, not wanting to actually hurt her, so the blade barely did more than lightly tap her stomach before she fumbled and it fell to the floor.

After a stunned pause, Cassandra howled with laughter.

Elena felt herself flush as red as her hair. “It’s not funny!”

That, if anything, only made Cassandra laugh harder—so hard tears came to the corner of her eyes, and she threw her arms around Elena’s shoulders to stop the half-started turn away, locking her there as she threw her arms around her in a hug and pinned Elena to her. “Oh, you’re just precious.”

Elena batted uselessly at her. “Get off me!”

“I’m going to ask Daniela to paint this moment for me,” Cassandra cackled, ignoring her struggles. “Stop pouting. It’s adorable.”

“This is stupid. Let me go!”

“Never.”

Eventually, after Cassandra finally stopped laughing, she did let Elena go—and somehow managed to talk Elena into another few rounds of attempting to stab her. Though most of the attempts ended with the blade being stolen mid-swing, Elena managed not to drop it again, though she was fairly sure that Cassandra was taking it easy on her.

It was only when she was red-faced and out of breath that Cassandra plucked the blade from her hand mid-thrust, tucking it into the pocket of her dress and finally bringing an end to their game.

“Here,” Cassandra said, helping her take her sweater off. “You’re all flushed.”

Elena submitted to the attention, allowing Cassandra to tug it over her head. The armory was cool with only a low fire burning in the old fireplace and the rush of cold air over her overheated skin felt amazing. She squeaked only a little when Cassandra tugged her shirt back down over her belly—taking the briefest moment to smooth her palm over Elena’s stomach with a little wink.

In just her pants and long-sleeve shirt, Elena allowed herself to be shepherded back over to the worktop in the corner. There, Cassandra lifted her and sat her on the edge of the table, tugging a stool out from underneath and sitting down on it—coincidentally, right in between Elena’s legs.

“This is a nice view,” Cassandra mused, squeezing her knee possessively. “You alright up there, little one?”

Elena massaged her hand, her arm and her fingers stiff. “My hand hurts.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Cassandra crooned. “Let me see.”

Reluctant in the face of the patronizing tone, but ultimately helpless when Cassandra reached up and gathered her sore hand between both of her own. There were a few creases in her palm from holding the hilt too tight, which she dug her thumbs into. The sensation made Elena hum low in her throat, fingers curling.

“You did well.”

“I’d believe you more if you didn’t laugh at me for ten minutes,” Elena grumbled.

Cassandra snickered at the memory. “I’m not going to be giving you a real knife any time soon,” she said, thumb tracing the lifeline of her palm. “But with time, you’ll get better at it. I don’t expect you to master all of the weapons in here overnight.”

“Do you expect me to master them all?”

“Don’t be silly,” Cassandra said, digging into the meat of her palm now and watching her shiver. “If I can’t trust you with a knife, I’m certainly not going to give you a mace. That’s just irresponsible babysitting.”

She huffed. “I don’t think knife fighting is responsible babysitting.”

“Maybe not, but Bela agreed not to tell Mother,” Cassandra replied, and Elena’s eyes snapped to her at the casual admittance. Undeterred by the sudden attention, Cassandra smiled mischievously back at her. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Another little secret, just between us,” Cassandra tugged Elena’s palm closer, pressing a kiss in the middle of it, then to the pad of each of her fingertips. “There, all better?”

“Better,” Elena confirmed, despite the slight ache still in her hand. She pressed her hand to Cassandra’s cheek. “Can I ask you something? Just between us.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, a glimmer of interest buried beneath the way her gaze went lidded and cat-like, leaning into the touch deliberately. “Oh? A secret for me? Now you’ve got my attention.”

Her stomach swooped, but a question had been building on the back of her tongue the entire evening and she was almost desperate to ask it. She doubted she would get as good a chance again.

“Adela…do you know where she is?”

“Who?”

“My…friend? Blonde, green eyes?” Elena pushed, and when no recognition sparked across Cassandra’s face, she felt her stomach drop to her feet. “She usually serves during meals? She’s been…missing.”

Understanding slipped over Cassandra’s face, but Elena wasn’t able to read the look that blossomed afterwards—it was neither amused, nor hungry, nor angry. Her eyes were dark, studying Elena carefully as she replied. “Ah, she’s the newest little pet project.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“Don’t work yourself up,” Cassandra shook her head. “You can’t help that one now—she has to pass the tests on her own.”

“Tests?” Elena asked, voice wobbling. “What kind of tests?”

“Of her worthiness,” Cassandra shrugged, looking supremely unbothered by the whole thing. “It’s all Bela’s little world, not mine. I just handle the…rejects. I haven’t seen your little friend yet, so don’t look so green. I’m sure she’s doing her best to win a shiny little prize.”

Something like a stone settled in her belly, fear turning to disbelief.

There was only one thing that someone could try to earn in Castle Dimitrescu—favor.

“I…see.”

After the revelation in the armory threw her visibly off-kilter, Cassandra seemed to sense that the time to leave had come. 

Elena allowed herself to be led back through the castle, steered in the direction instead of a room close to the opera hall. If she listened closely, she could hear the sound of a violin as they passed, and Cassandra hummed what must be a familiar song under her breath. Still, they passed the door by, continuing on to a smaller room down the hall.

“A long time ago, Mother Miranda forced Karl—Lord Heisenberg—to come up here and retrofit the rest of the castle with electricity,” Cassandra explained. “It already had it in places, but it was unreliable. She thought it would help Mother complete her tasks. Though Mother was very angry about the whole thing. She hates when he comes to visit and it took him weeks to finish everything.”

Elena winced, she’d heard from Sylvia’s angry muttering that Lord Heisenberg and Lady Dimitrescu absolutely detested each other. She could only imagine what the Lady would be like, if forced to house him for weeks.

“He installed this because he knew it would piss Mother off—and because he adores Daniela, and she begged him for it.”

As they entered the room, Elena cocked her head to the side, trying to understand what she was looking at.

The room itself held a few loveseats and armchairs, surrounding a white backdrop pulled down over the wallpaper. In the corner opposite the backdrop was a random device of some kind, surrounded by a wall of circular metal tins. “What…is it?”

“A projector,” Cassandra explained gleefully. 

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

“Just go sit, I promise you’ll like it,” Cassandra said, pushing her towards the seating. “I’ll set everything up.”

Elena didn’t really get it, but obediently traipsed over to the sofa and curled up in the corner. She was tired, exhausted really, and the way the sofa sank underneath her felt so comfy. There was a blanket tucked over the back, which she draped over herself to chase the lingering chill. Come to think of it, she’d left her sweater in the armory.

After a moment, a light flickered and started up on the white screen. Elena squinted to make it out, but Cassandra flipped the lights off and then drew the curtains, casting the room into darkness—like that, the light formed pictures. She had heard about this in books, but she’d never seen it. She stared, frozen.

“Room for two?”

Elena let Cassandra fold the blanket back, slipping under it with her and draping it back over top. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said, the awe obvious in her voice, eyes a little too wide as she studied the bright, shifting colors.

Cassandra smiled in the corner of her eye. “Mother pretends to be mad about it—but I’ve caught her watching films in here before.”

“It’s amazing.”

“It is,” Cassandra said, shoulder-to-shoulder with her, studying the cartoon with an amused expression. “The cartoons are all Daniela’s. Books aren’t the only thing she hoards. Mother will be thrilled you like them. I prefer something a little more…adult.”

Elena didn’t react to the subtle dig at her age, too busy studying the shifting pictures with fascination. She couldn’t begin to understand the technology that went into it. Technology itself was something the village was woefully lacking, far beyond her means even if it hadn’t been, so this was all brand new to her.

She fell into a quiet trance, curled up between the arm of the sofa and the warmth of Cassandra’s shoulder, content just to sit and watch.

She made it all the way through an episode and into the next before her eyes grew too heavy to keep open, the blinks growing slower and slower until she felt herself beginning to go boneless. Her last coherent thought before she slumped into Cassandra’s shoulder was that she smelled nice.

“Did you have fun today?”

Elena hummed tiredly, nearly face-down in her food and utterly incoherent.

Bela smiled fondly at her youngest sister, trying to coax her to wake up a little more so she could accept another spoonful of vegetables. She was in her high-chair, but as a mark of how tired she was, Elena hadn’t appeared to notice. She’d been so limp when Cassandra carried her to dinner, Bela had almost thought she was a corpse until the cute little snores reached her ears. 

“I think someone missed their nap-time today,” Bela noted, reaching out to wipe her cheeks with the bib she’d been forced to put on her. Though a messy eater a lot of the time, she was wearing more food than she was eating. “We’ll have to ensure she gets one tomorrow.”

“I think you wore her out, Daniela,” Cassandra replied, sounding amused. “She tried to fall asleep on me within the first few minutes, you know.”

Daniela was staring at Elena with stars in her eyes, her own food largely untouched in favor of taking in the adorable sight. “We had a lot of fun today.”

“It was a big day for her,” Bela agreed, catching her forehead as Elena swayed dangerously and almost face-planted in her bowl, gently settling her back up again. “It’ll be a miracle if I can keep her upright long enough to brush her teeth.”

Elena tried to say something, but it just came out as a low, drawn-out grumble.

“I can help!” Daniela offered.

“It’s okay, sister,” Bela said gently, trying not to offend her but not wanting to send Elena off into another spiral if she did wake up a little more—the more private parts of her routine were not yet something to be shared with her siblings. “I think the little one could use some alone time, today’s been a little much for her. Perhaps next time.”

Daniela deflated, pouting a little. “Fine.”

“Leave it,” Cassandra snickered, flicking a pea at Daniela’s head and ignoring her responding shriek as it bounced off her nose. “We’ve worn her out enough, let Bela get the baby ready for bed. I doubt giving her a bottle is going to be anything too compelling.”

Bela tried to feed her another bite, but Elena’s forehead scrunched and she turned her head away. In response, Bela sighed, looking down at the bowl that had only been half-eaten; ordinarily she might push for more, but the milk would tide her over for a while. She set the spoon down, waving for the food to be taken away.

Standing from her chair, Bela made her way over to release her from the high-chair, scooping her up.

“Excuse us, sisters,” Bela said, arranging Elena on her hip with her head on her shoulder. “We’ll discuss tomorrow once I have her settled.”

Chapter Text

Elena woke slowly, mouth bone-dry and languid as a cat in the sun.

She was curled up on her side, cheek smushed into a pillow, another sandwiched between her arms. Heavy blankets were piled over her, warm and comfortable. She stretched, yawning. There was a heaviness to her limbs that was more than just a long, dreamless sleep. It stumped her, at least until the memories began to trickle back in. 

Between flagging eyelids, there were glimpses of Bela’s patient hands: brushing her teeth, wrangling her into fluffy pajamas, tucking her into bed. Then nothing. At least for a while. Then, somewhere in the night, coaxed half-awake by gathering arms, a familiar press at her mouth, drinking until she dozed off again.

Elena’s cheeks flamed. She burrowed deeper into the blankets, until they were almost over her head.

“Are you okay, little one?”

Jumping, Elena peeked out from her huddle, finding Bela perched at her mother’s vanity, running a brush through her hair.

“I’m fine,” Elena mumbled, voice sleep-thick and muffled by the covers.

Bela eyed crinkled fondly in the mirror’s reflection. “Still tired?”

Truthfully, she probably would have gone back to sleep if she was alone. But Elena stubbornly refused to bend to the lingering weakness of the tea or the amusement in Bela’s voice. “No,” she denied, forcing back a yawn out of sheer spite. “What time is it?”

“Almost time to get up,” Bela answered, coming to sit on the bed. She coaxed the covers back, ignoring the protesting noises, until she revealed messy bedhead and pink-dusted cheeks. “Did you sleep well?”

“Too well,” Elena grumbled in thinly-veiled accusation, yet her eyes still closed as Bela swept hair away from her face. 

Bela’s fingers lingered on her temple, warm and gentle, ignoring her grumbling with practiced ease. “You were down for a long time, I thought you might sleep through breakfast. It was a rather big day yesterday, wasn’t it?”

The words were patronizing, though the expression on Bela’s face and the soft touch made it clear that it wasn’t entirely intentional. She looked thoughtful, like she was committing a dozen little details to memory to examine later. And yet, there was something underlying to her gaze that Elena couldn’t parse. The intense scrutiny made her want to shrink, but she forced herself to stay still.

“A little,” she admitted, almost shy. 

The intensity in Bela’s stare eased, replaced by a reassuring smile. “I apologize, I should have planned time for you to rest. Our sisters wore you out, didn’t they?”

“It’s fine,” Elena said, fighting her heavy limbs to sit up, ignoring Bela’s hand hovering to help her. Her determination to do it herself proved successful on the second try, but the snub earned nothing but a fond laugh. “They were actually…a lot more fun than I expected.”

The confession felt sacrilegious, but it was honest.

Daniela and Cassandra had made routines of frightening her, intentional or not, so time alone with them had been daunting. The bloodshed was fresh in her mind, so she could not fully delude herself into believing any of them were good or safe as people. At best, they were still accomplices in her captivity. But they were good to her, sweet and kind in their own ways. 

“Even Cassandra,” she admitted, fingers tingling with the memory of a time-worn photo frame under her fingers. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

Bela smiled warmly at the admission. “Certainly not, if her ego gets any bigger, it will outgrow Mother and then we’re all doomed.”

Despite herself, Elena laughed.

“I’m glad,” Bela continued, softer, peering into her eyes so Elena could read the pure joy in them. “I told you that there was nothing to be scared of.”

“It’s too early for I told you so,” Elena mumbled softly, complaining to hide her discomfort at the softness on Bela’s face. It knocked her off guard to see the open affection, so different from the cold and untouchable woman who ran her staff like clockwork. It made her stomach do flips.

Bela flicked her forehead, starling a yelp out of her. “You have spent too much time with Cassandra. Watch your manners.”

Elena tried to rub the spot with a scowl, but her graceless limbs only succeeded in almost poking her own eye out. Bela caught her wrist, returning her hand to her lap. With a shake of her head, Bela leaned in and kissed the spot, smiling against her skin when Elena squeaked.

“Cassandra did treat you well though?” Bela asked, slowly pulling back.

Elena took a moment to arrange her thoughts into something that made sense. “She did,” she answered honestly. “She’s different than I thought. She can be mean, but also so…nice?”

The words felt too simplistic, clunky, doing no justice to the full dimensions of her. Cassandra was a million things, none of them simple. Elena’s vocabulary felt woefully unprepared to explain her. Instead, she just fumbled, shrugging awkwardly.

“Cassandra has something of a unique brand of affection,” Bela retorted, expression knowing. “But she adores you.”

“She does?”

“Of course. She wanted you just as much as we all did,” Bela replied simply, and Elena’s brain snagged over those words, filing them away. “If she didn’t, she would have made it very clear.”

Elena snorted softly. “You’re not wrong.”

“I rarely am,” Bela sniffed haughtily, theatrically, her eyes gleaming with mirth. 

A rumble interrupted whatever Elena was going to say next, and she hunched over in mortification. It did nothing to silence the roar of her stomach. In fact, the motion only drew Bela’s attention more fully to her, earning a chuckle.

“Point proven,” Bela said, chin tipping up higher to carry on the regal image, but unable to fully hide her smile. She poked Elena’s stomach, laughing louder when Elena yelped and batted it away. “That is why I insisted you eat more at dinner. You even missed dessert—though Sylvia did tell me that you already sampled the cake.”

“That was Daniela’s idea!” Elena protested, arms folding protectively over her stomach to prevent another jab. “I’m fine.”

“Well I will feel better once you’ve had breakfast,” Bela said sternly, lip quirking at the childish whining. “I’d hate for Mother to think I let you waste away or that some sort of ravenous beast has taken up residence in her absence.”

“I’m not a beast.”

“Yet you do get rather grumpy in the mornings and are easily pleased with food.”

Elena scowled at the teasing, but bit her tongue to keep in the snappish remark waiting to tumble out, knowing it would only prove Bela’s point. Being made fun of was not new and it was definitely not the worst thing to happen to her, but it still made her sour.

“The sooner we feed the beast in your belly, the sooner you can go play,” Bela continued, oblivious to the bitter twist in her thoughts, ignoring Elena’s drawn frown at the babying tone. She rose, trying to coax the blankets away. “Come, let’s get up.”

“No,” Elena grumbled, gripping the blankets as tight as she could.

Bela didn’t react to the reticent and suddenly sullen tone of her voice, but her eyes did sharpen a little. “Elena.”

She huffed, hands loosening. “It’s cold.”

“Then we best get you dressed in something warm quickly,” Bela retorted, undeterred as she peeled the covers away. The room was warm enough, the fire freshly stoked. All the same, she tugged the loose sock back onto Elena’s foot, ignoring her petulant squirm. “Daniela has a surprise for you today. I fear she’ll wear a hole in the dining table, or the staff, if we make her wait too long.”

The sudden surge of anger dissipated slightly, overpowered by wary curiosity. “A surprise?”

“Mmhm, she even dragged Cassandra into it,” Bela said, fond but with an edge of exasperation. She rose from the bed, talking over her shoulder. “Consider yourself lucky you slept through their arguing. Their fights have to be factored into the maintenance budget. Last year, they tore apart the drawing room in a squabble over a maid—Mother was furious.”

Elena did not doubt the women’s capacity for violence, she’d seen it first hand, but it was terrifying. 

“What’s the surprise?”

Bela set a bundle of clothes down on the bed, and Elena studied the fuzzy material of the oversized sweater with interest. “Now, what kind of surprise would it be if I told you?”

“Less terrifying?”

“The fearful are caught as often as the bold,” Bela quoted, patting her knee. “Don’t worry so much, just relax. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

What Elena did not enjoy was breakfast.

“Don’t pout.”

Elena swallowed a scoff. “I’m not pouting.”

“You are,” Bela retorted mildly, setting her tea cup back down on the saucer with a measured clink. 

Cassandra snickered over the rim of her own. “You definitely are.”

If she was, it was for good reason.

Bela had insisted on carrying her to breakfast, not trusting the way her knees still wobbled under her own weight. Being set in her chair was routine, but still horrible. The new and unwelcome addition was a child-shaped sippy cup full of water, accompanied by a utensil that was half-fork and half-spoon but proficient in neither, the handle sitting too-large and awkward in her hand.

Elena tried her best to smooth away the supposed pout, but the breadth of Cassandra’s smirk told her she may not have been successful.

“I’m not,” Elena denied vehemently, utensil clattering in the bowl as she abandoned her aggressive fruit-shuffling. She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair to try and preserve some of her dignity. “I just don’t understand what the point of this is.”

“Fruit are an excellent source of vitamins and minerals—”

“Not the fruit,” Elena cut-in to Bela’s explanation, brows pinching. She tapped the back of her heel against the leg of the chair, trying to ground the restless energy arcing through her. “I didn’t have to use this yesterday. I can eat and drink normally!”

Bela took another slow sip of her tea, ignoring her blustering. “Eat your breakfast.”

It had been almost fifteen minutes of Elena nudging her food around but not eating. Cassandra and Bela had already finished their own food, moving on to tea, while Daniela had scarfed her own in five minutes flat and then taken off to work on the finishing touches of whatever her surprise entailed. It left Elena to the cruel and unusual punishment that was Cassandra and Bela as a united front.

Truth be told, she was hungry, but her stubbornness refused to allow her to eat. Helpful too was the fact that her eggs and toast had long gone soggy and cold, her bowl of fruit half-mashed from her constant prodding.

“I don’t want it,” she hissed, pushing everything to the far end of the tray table, the cup tipping over but not spilling.

Cassandra’s eyes flicked between Bela and Elena. “Be careful, little one,” she cautioned, the corner of her lip pulling slowly upwards. “Remember what I said about biting off more than you can chew? Is a tantrum now really worth it?”

Elena scowled at her, but her eyes moved instinctively, warily to Bela.

Bela looked back at her, expression neutral but eyes cooler than usual in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. When she reached out, Elena flinched.

Bela set her cup back upright. “We’ll sit here for as long as it takes, Elena. I expect you to eat it all.”

A silent tug-of-war passed between the two of them as Bela stared at her, daring her to talk back, to make a scene, to turn it into a full-blown tantrum that would promise consequences. Elena, stubborn and headstrong as she occasionally could be, wisely backed down.

“But it’s cold,” she muttered instead, studying the clumpy scrambled eggs. 

“It would not have been, had you eaten it when it was served,” Bela said, ruthless and unsympathetic, turning back to something authoritarian instead of her usual gentle guidance. “If you promise not to complain further, then I’ll allow only half.”

Half was an unexpected mercy, but Elena still grimaced as she poked at her food. 

“Ah, there’s the pout again,” Cassandra chimed, snickering.

Elena’s responding look could have reheated her plate, but it earned nothing but an open-mouthed cackle back.

Bela wore the unwavering, strict smile of an older sister who had often quelled the rebellions of her headstrong younger siblings—the look of someone who had seen all the wheedling and complaining before. “At least half,” she reiterated firmly. “Then we can join Daniela for your surprise.” 

Elena’s brows pinched again, but she reluctantly scooped up some egg, wrinkling her nose. “Fine.”

It was cold, the texture no longer the soft and creamy hallmark of the French-style scramble the girls preferred, but congealed and a little slimy from butter and cream. She’d had worse, but it was hard to appreciate the taste when the temperature and texture made her swallow back a gag.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not that bad.”

Elena did not dare point out that they often ate human flesh and blood, so she wasn’t sure Bela was in any position to criticize her palate.

She pointedly shoved the egg off the soggy toast, which had been cut into small triangles. It was a bit floppy, but still tasted okay, so she nibbled a few pieces. The fruit was much easier and she almost ate all of it, except for the diced cantaloupe which she refused to entertain a single bite of. When the food was more-or-less half eaten, she turned to Bela with pleading eyes.

Bela withdrew from her conversation with Cassandra, studying the dishes. “The water, too, Elena.”

She paused. “But—”

“No complaints,” Bela cut in immediately, voice stern, a fragment of her mother. “Or you’ll be eating all of it.”

Her face screwed up before she could stop it, but she slowly picked up the cup. It was embarrassing, especially under the eyes of the staff who attended in the corner and pretended not to stare, but they’d undoubtedly seen worse from her at this point. Neither Bela or Cassandra paid her much attention as they jumped back into idle conversation, definitely deliberate, because Cassandra rarely missed an opportunity to tease her.

Sighing, she sipped the water. Drinking from the strange cup wasn’t as awkward as she’d imagined, certainly not so much as the bottles of tea, and she was much thirstier than she’d thought. Before long, she’d drained the whole thing.

“Well done,” Bela praised the moment she set it down.

Elena rankled inwardly at being praised for something so simple as eating and drinking some water. But somewhere even deeper inward, a part she pretended didn’t exist, relished it. Conflicted and frustrated by it, she pushed the dishes back to the edge of the tabletop and peered at Bela. “Can I get down now?”

“Excited for your surprise?” Bela asked, waving for a maid to take the dishes away. 

Cassandra snorted. “She better be. Daniela woke me up before dawn for this.”

Elena did not get to feel any sort of dread or excitement, too busy with the rush of relief as the maids cleared the dishes swiftly away. When they were done, Bela rose to free her, helping her down. Food and time had returned her limbs to her, so Elena took great joy in standing on her own, her autonomy mostly returned—though Bela’s hand quickly found her own, keeping her close.

“Well, the little one’s ready, shall we?” Bela asked, looking at Cassandra.

Cassandra drained the last of her tea, then swarmed over to join them. Elena yelped when her other hand was caught, sandwiching her between the sisters, hand-in-hand. Though, where Bela laced their fingers, Cassandra just hooked their palms together in a tight hold.

“Come on, then,” Cassandra prompted, pulling Elena with her. “Before Daniela explodes.”

Elena swore she caught the briefest roll of Bela’s eyes in her peripheral, but when she glanced at her, it was gone. Instead, Bela allowed herself to be led along behind both of her younger sisters without complaint.

“Don’t peek!”

Elena shuffled awkwardly with Daniela hanging on her back, trying her best not to stumble. “I’m not peeking!”

She couldn’t see anything anyway with Daniela’s palms slapped over her eyes. 

Cassandra and Bela laughed behind them, but Elena paid them no mind, too busy waving her arms around to ensure she didn’t walk herself into anything. They had been walking down the familiar path near the opera hall—at least, before Daniela pounced, melting from the ceiling where she’d been lying in wait to capture Elena.

“Are you ready?” Daniela pestered.

Her heart jumped in her chest, but she nodded. “I’m ready.”

When Daniela’s hands fell away, she didn’t know what she’d expected, but the sight surprised her.

Elena recognized the projector room from the previous day, except it had changed rapidly overnight. All of the sofas and tables had been removed, in their place was what she could only describe as a nest. A bed as large as the Lady’s had been dragged in, frame and mattress both. There were a dozen blankets piled on top, piles of pillows, and a frankly embarrassing number of familiar stuffed toys.

The curtains had been pulled to block out the gentle morning light, but soft lamps were lit up strategically around the room—carefully set away from the projector screen, which was currently showing nothing but a white light upon the backdrop. 

“Come on!” Daniela coaxed, nudging her towards the bed. “We wanted to show you some cool stuff while Mother’s gone!”

She was a little confused but also tentatively excited by the prospect, the previous day’s cartoons had been amazing, vivid colors and smooth motion that made her a little dizzy to watch. That there was something else worth showing her while their mother was away piqued her interest.

“What kind of stuff?”

Daniela just grinned, teeth bright white and eyes crinkled with excitement. “You’ll see!”

She was given no choice about climbing onto the bed, Daniela lifted her by the hips and practically tossed her onto it, earning a shriek from Elena and a sharp reprimand from Bela. Ignoring them both, Daniela swarmed after her with a giggle. She coaxed a frazzled Elena into the middle without a care in the world, nestling her into a mound of pillows.

It was cold, the room had no fireplace, so Elena didn’t protest too much when Daniela began to drape blankets over her. Though she did have to fight against her to get her arms free from the pile, only to groan when a familiar stuffed fox was pressed into them instead—one she was certain was still in the Lady’s bed last she checked. “When did you even…?”

Daniela gave her a secretive smile, flopping beside her and resting her chin on Elena’s shoulder. “She wants to watch too.”

“She?”

All that earned her was an over-exaggerated wink.

Elena blinked slowly and decided not to try to puzzle together what that meant. It was far too early in the morning to interpret Daniela’s uniqueness. She just shook her head and patiently waited to see what cool stuff Daniela had planned.

“I do expect us to take some breaks,” Bela mentioned, settling onto the bed beside Elena, so close their shoulders brushed. She dragged a blanket over her lap, then folded her hands delicately on top. “Too much time watching these things is harmful to children’s brain development, you know.”

Cassandra finished fiddling with the projector, swarming to join them on the bed with a snort. “Better cover Dani’s eyes then.”

Daniela made an offended noise, but wriggled closer to Elena instead. She pulled a blanket over her own shoulders, relaxing against her in a puddle of contentment. She didn’t protest when Cassandra nabbed the edge of her blanket, draping herself along Daniela’s side despite the fact that the bed was enormous and none of them needed to be so close.

Elena didn’t have time to dwell on the idea of being nestled in with the three women, the projector flickering to life with images and stealing her attention. Instead of the bright cartoons she’d come to enjoy yesterday, the film grain faded to something far more realistic.

She sat up slightly, voice hushed with awe. “What…where is that?”

“Paris,” Bela answered, as the film panned wide across the city at daybreak from a rooftop. 

A village-girl to her core, Elena stared wide-eyed at the bustle and life, the number of people simply mind blowing. She couldn’t imagine living in such a place. She knew of Paris, from books and chats with the Duke and even the Lady’s own stories, but words did nothing to bring it to life. It felt like watching ant-hills as a child, observing the way the million specks moved about.

“It’s huge,” Elena said, eyes wide.

Daniela grumbled in protest as her head slid off Elena’s shoulder as she said up higher. “So many people,” she agreed, obviously star-struck despite the fact that she’d undoubtedly seen it before. “I wonder what they taste like. Good, I bet. They make good food.”

It said a lot about how used to their nature she was when the concept of how someone tasted didn’t make her throw herself out of bed.

“And wine,” Bela stated, glancing at Elena. “A few of our vintages are sold there. Though Mother allows only a few to stock it.”

Elena blinked at the revelation. She wasn’t aware that the wine was sold in the outside. It seemed somehow forbidden, considering Mother Miranda’s views on it—namely, that it was forbidden and would corrupt them all. She’d naively assumed that the wine was either kept in the castle, sold to the Duke, or passed around between the Lords.

Cassandra sighed, loud and dramatic, a thread of teasing in it. “Enough wine talk, Bela. If I have to hear another word about it while Mother’s gone, I’m starting the harvest early.”

Bela rolled her eyes, but eased herself a little more back into the pillows. She turned to regard Elena instead. “This is something of a documentary, I suppose you could call it. The Duke brings us all sorts of things from the outside world of course, but these are a…special order.”

“What she means is don’t tell Mother,” Cassandra said, in what was becoming a familiar phrase.

Elena tore her eyes away from the picture, surprised. “Why?”

“They make her upset,” Daniela mumbled into her side, oppressively close yet somehow comforting. 

“She doesn’t want us getting ideas about the outside world. It’s too dangerous,” Cassandra said, her tone a little scornful, as if she’d heard the same words again and again. Her voice lowered, secretive as she leaned toward Elena, squeezing Daniela between them with an oomph. “I think she just misses it.”

Bela’s eyes snapped to her. “Cassandra.”

In the quick correction, Elena caught a glimpse of the truth, another snippet to file away and flick through later. She was forced to learn so much about these women in their slips, but each scrap was as valuable as a diamond to her.

Cassandra leaned away from Elena, allowing Daniela room to breathe. She shrugged, deliberately casual, her eyes refocusing on the image in front of them, a world that may as well have been a million miles beyond their reach. “It’s more fun here anyway.”

Although she knew the answer, she felt compelled to ask. “You’ve never left the valley?”

“There’s nothing out there for us,” Cassandra replied. “Here we can do whatever we want.”

“I tried leaving once, a long time ago,” Daniela piped in, shivering and leaning further into Elena. Her eyes were a little dreamy, as if caught up in an old memory. “It was really cold.”

Bela and Cassandra exchanged glances.

“Mother doesn’t allow us too far,” Bela interrupted, words careful. “And Mother Miranda doesn’t allow anybody out of the village—except the Duke.”

“I don’t think anybody can stop him,” Cassandra muttered, sounding grudgingly impressed. “How a man-thing that size moves around so quickly, I’ll never know.”

Elena cracked a small smile. “Some of the villagers think he made a pact with the Black God.”

Bela shook her head. “It’d be easier if he had. Perhaps then he wouldn’t try to hamstring us with his markup.”

Cassandra and Bela continued trading theories on the source of his oddity; whether he’d sold his soul to an eldritch being, bargained with a trickster god, or other increasingly nefarious means. Elena tuned them out halfway, lost and much more interested in the shifting images on the screen. A sentiment echoed by Daniela, who gushed about a dozen different landmarks to Elena like an over-enthusiastic tour guide.

However the girls all perked up with noticeable interest when the film eventually turned underground. It did not take long to figure out why. The ossuaries full of bones were enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, eyes wide. Though she had seen much worse in the castle, it was still frightening to see the dark catacombs, skulls on display.

Bela, ever perceptive, worked Elena’s hand away from its abrupt stranglehold on the toy Daniela had given her. Instead, she threaded Elena’s fingers through her own, an anchor with a firm grip. “A rather unique burial method, is it not?”

She shivered. “It’s eerie.”

“I like it,” Cassandra hummed with the eyes of a craftswoman who enjoyed stringing bones together in her free time, entirely too interested for her own good. Elena had the distinct, horrible feeling she was taking notes. Her incredulous stare earned a razor-sharp smirk. “Just imagine how much ambiance it would add to the cellar.”

That made her skin prickle even more. “You’re horrible.”

Cassandra gave an open-mouth cackle, loud and entirely self-satisfied. “See, Bela, this is educational.”

“Shut up,” Daniela loudly shushed them all, jabbing her elbow into Cassandra’s side and squeezing Elena in a hug so tight she swore her ribs creaked, all of her breath rushing out of her. “This is the best part.”

As it turned out, all of them were the best part according to Daniela.

Each time one film reel spooled to an end, another was pulled from well-loved cases and set to play. Daniela gave commentary about each and every one as they traveled the world in film, bizarre mixes of national landmarks, beautiful scenery, and far too many burial methods to count. They watched so many of the ‘documentaries’ that they began to blend together.

After what felt like the hundredth one, Elena’s brain felt like mush, her newly stretched worldview barely fitting behind throbbing temples.

“That’s enough for now,” Bela took pity on her, studying her restless shifting and the way she rubbed her forehead. “I think the little one could use a break.”

Elena’s hand dropped. “I’m okay.”

“Even so, a walk and a snack would do us all some good,” Bela announced, helping Elena unwind herself from the blankets and from Daniela—who passively resisted being moved from her new position flung across her sisters’ laps like a cat, whining in protest as Bela literally rolled her off. “I thought we might spend some more time in the greenhouse? Perhaps with some tea—or hot chocolate for you?”

“Alright,” Elena gave in easily at the delicious bribe, allowing Bela to help her off the bed, stretching the stiffness out of her legs. “That sounds nice.”

Cassandra slid off the bed, stretching her arms high above her head. “Is that an open invitation?”

“Of course,” Bela granted. She peered back at Daniela, who sprawled on the vacant bed in the warm patch that her sisters had left behind, soaking up the lingering body heat and yawning widely, looking like her early morning was catching up with her all at once. “Would you care to join us, Daniela?”

Daniela blinked sluggishly. “Will there be cake?”

“I suppose Sylvia can bring out the leftovers,” Bela agreed, then hummed in consideration as she glanced at Elena. “A few of our sister’s cookies, too. I’d hate to let our hard work go to waste.”

Daniela perked up slightly at the promise of cookies, swarming away from the bed and reappearing behind Bela. She pressed her forehead between her older sister’s shoulder blades, voice pathetic. “Carry me?”

Bela sighed but didn’t shake her off. “And which one of you is supposed to be the baby?”

“I’m tired,” Daniela whined, pawing at her. “Please, Bela?”

“Fine,” Bela conceded.

Instantly, Daniela leaped onto her back like a monkey, arms worming around her shoulders and chin tucking in. Bela didn’t even stagger, the process was clearly familiar, if not a little ridiculous looking considering they were the same height. What was ridiculous was the wide grin on Daniela’s face as she thrust a hand forward, pointing to the door. “Onwards, loyal steed! To the greenhouse!”

Bela’s expression was something Elena wished she could immortalize forever.

Elena tried to hide her laugh behind her palm, but it burst out when Cassandra threw an arm over her shoulder, dragging her into her side with a snicker. “Watch out, little one, best not get trampled by Princess Daniella and her loyal donkey.”

“That’s Queen Daniela to you, peasant,” Daniela responded, as theatrical as she’d been in the library, the picture-perfect imitation of a haughty noble looking down at a commoner. The effect was rather ruined when she then squeezed her knees into Bela’s sides, giggling. “Go!”

Obediently, sighing, Bela went.

Ordinarily, Elena may have been disgruntled to be in Cassandra’s lap instead of Bela’s. 

For the moment Elena relished in it, despite the possessive squeeze of an arm around her stomach and the way Cassandra wouldn’t stop fiddling with the ends of her hair. Why? Because where Bela was overly concerned with matters of nutrients and a balanced diet, Cassandra was happy enough to ply her with treats until her stomach exploded, ignoring her older sister’s scolding.

“Did you not enjoy your breakfast?” Cassandra cooed, voice syrupy and taunting.

Elena let the familiar teasing roll mostly over her, vengefully plucking another cookie from Cassandra’s plate. “It was horrible,” she replied accusingly, nose scrunching as she bit into the cookie. “Cantaloupe and cold eggs.” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bela chided over the table.

Daniela spoke around her own mouthful, utterly shameless. “These are really good.”

“Aw, poor baby. You’re getting spoiled,” Cassandra continued her teasing. She pinched Elena’s cheek pointedly, laughing at the way she yelped indignantly and slapped her hand away. “Don’t get too used to it. Mommy will be home soon.”

“You used that one already,” Elena muttered quietly as she rubbed her cheek, voice low. The title was still horribly embarrassing, she could feel her cheeks burn, but she kept her face neutral as she nibbled at the snacks. “She’s your Mommy too, you know.”

Cassandra smiled, utterly pleased. “My Mother, yes.”

“It’s the same thing,” she scoffed.

That earned her a curious hum, low and full of intent. “Is it?”

Elena shook her head at her, but said nothing. Arguing with Cassandra was an exercise in futility, she could hunt down the weakness in an argument like a bloodhound. Still, if she chomped the rest of the cookie with particular violence, that was at least something that Cassandra could appreciate. In fact, it earned her a suffocating squeeze and a victorious laugh pressed into her hair. 

“I’m glad you two are getting along,” Bela said primly, a fraction of something like jealousy slipping into her tone before she reined it in. “But that is enough treats, Cassandra, or you’ll be the one dealing with the sugar high.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Elena pointed out, quite reasonably.

The look she earned in return told her the assertion was quite unreasonable. 

“I can handle a single tiny human,” Cassandra snorted. “It’s not that hard.”

It was Bela’s turn to scoff. “You don’t know a thing.”

“I know enough.”

Daniela watched the back and forth eagerly. Elena recognized that look. It was one that said she was trying to figure out where to place her bets.

“It’s fine,” Elena grumbled reluctantly, shoving Cassandra’s treat-laden plate away. It clattered loudly against a teacup, the crimson-tinted liquid inside sloshing. The noise snapped the sisters out of a brewing argument. She squirmed pointedly, eager to flee from the front lines of the brewing battle. “I’m full anyway. Can I get down?”

“May you get down,” Bela corrected. 

Elena squinted, not quite following.

Cassandra snorted at the confusion on her face, releasing Elena and giving her a small nudge off of her lap. “You can,” she granted. “Don’t go far. Or go really far. I could use a good chase.”

“Stay where we can see you,” Bela allowed reluctantly, glaring at Cassandra. “And don’t touch any of the plants.”

For a long moment, Elena hovered in the space beside Cassandra’s chair, surprised and uncertain. She hadn’t actually expected to be set free. But when none of the sisters snatched her back up, she took a few small steps away from the table, hyper aware of the eyes watching her. 

Shockingly, no warnings came as she slowly edged down the steps of the gazebo. She lingered there for a few moments, half-expecting to be snatched back up. But nothing happened.

Nervous but bolstered, Elena moved with a little more purpose across the courtyard. She made a show of crouching, hands on her knees as she pretended to study one of the flower beds. It bore no signs of the recent fight, crushed flowers replaced by new ones in pinks and whites, soil freshly tended. It was pretty, but her attention was on her peripheral, studying the girls from the corner of her eyes.

Their conversation had resumed, but Bela still watched her like a hawk over a wildly-gesticulating Daniela’s shoulder. 

Elena ducked her head away, using the curtain of her hair to hide her face as she chewed at her lip. She wasn’t foolish enough to dream of escaping, it would be a waste of the precious taste of freedom. But she felt strangely guilty for it. The desperate creature inside of her demanded she at least try to fight back.

Instead, she straightened and turned her attention instead to the more interesting plants.

The courtyard was edged with raised beds, many of them housing bright and strangely shaped curiosities to discover. She paced her way around them, ignoring the prickling on the back of her neck. It felt good to meander around by herself, without a hand in hers or a hovering presence. It was also quite nice to be aimless by choice, admiring the vibrant purple of drooping wolfsbane petals or drifting between sweet-smelling sprigs of lavender.

It was embarrassing how quickly she got tired though. After a dozen slow laps and crisscrosses around the courtyard, her restless energy started to ebb, replaced by sore feet and growing exhaustion. She couldn’t understand why. As a maid, she’d worked on her feet the entire day.

Huffing, Elena tore off her sweater and slumped onto one of the benches. She drew her knees up to her chest, smoothing the sweater over them like a blanket and resting her chin there. Her dress rucked up in a rather unladylike way, but modesty was just one of the things she was learning to part with. 

She closed her eyes, letting the humid warmth and distant conversation wash over her.

Bela smiled fondly as she watched Elena curl up on the bench, her eyelids drifting shut. “I think that’s our cue.”

“Well, isn’t that cute,” Cassandra snorted, but she was smiling too. “She’s coming along well.”

“Better than expected,” Bela agreed. “She’s stubborn, but the signs are good.”

“You’ve dealt with worse,” Cassandra smirked; it was a truth they all knew far too well, and the reality of that showed in the grimace on Bela’s face. Her eyes sharpened a little, curious. “And the tests?”

Excitement flit across Bela’s face. “Just as Mother hypothesized.”

Daniela dipped one last cookie into the dregs of her tea. Once sufficiently soggy, she stuffed it into her mouth with a pleased hum, then stood to join her sisters as they rose from the table. She surged forward excitedly, swarming through the table. “I’m carrying her this time!” 

Bela tried to catch her, but missed by an inch. “Gentle, Daniela!”

It was a pointless action however, as Daniela’s swarm suddenly detoured before she came within an inch of Elena. She coalesced a few feet away, peering through the monstera leaves, cold-faced and narrow-eyed. A few flies hung in the air, wings buzzing angrily, zigzagging in angry slashes. “What do you want?”

The Grand Chambermaid didn’t so much as flinch at the posturing, inclining her head deferentially as she approached the most volatile of the Lady’s three daughters. “Excuse the interruption, Lady Daniela. I have a message for Lady Bela.”

Bela rescued her, appearing at her sister’s side. “What is it, Roxana?”

Roxana inclined her head again, too professional to show her relief. “Lady Dimitrescu called ahead, she is on her way home.”

“How long?”

“An hour, perhaps sooner if the snow eases,” Roxana replied. “She’s bringing a guest with her.”

“A guest?” 

“Yes, I believe Lord Beneviento is accompanying her. I’ve made the usual arrangements.”

“Go,” Bela dismissed. “Have Sylvia prepare appropriate meals for her tonight, and a place setting for her and Angie.”

Silently, Roxana inclined her head and turned to leave.

Daniela watched her go, bristling like an angry cat until Bela touched her hand and drew her attention back. She glanced over Bela’s shoulder to where Elena was still curled up, Cassandra leaning against the back of her bench like a sentinel, watching the interaction. She blinked slowly, then looked back at Bela. “I still get to carry her, right?”

“Gently,” Bela conceded. “I’d rather not wake her up if we can avoid it.”

“I can be gentle!” Daniela defended, a little too loud.

“And quietly,” Bela chided, but released her hand. “Bring her to my chambers, Mother’s are being tidied.”

Cassandra watched them both as they approached, noticeably relaxing once the Grand Chambermaid disappeared from their view. She softly fiddled with the ends of Elena’s hair, amused by the way the soft snores continued uninterrupted. “It seems we wore her out again,” she said lowly as they approached. “She really has no stamina. Are children supposed to sleep so much?”

“It’s part of the process,” Bela replied, voice soft.

Daniela tuned them both out, crouching down to gather Elena up like precious glass. Her head tipped a little, resting on Daniela’s shoulder, breath puffing softly against her neck. The cuteness almost made her explode with the need to squeeze her in a tight hug, but she sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to be as gentle as she could.

“Sweet dreams, baby sister,” Daniela whispered, nuzzling the top of her head.

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?”

Bela led her onwards with a mysterious smile, squeezing Elena’s hand. “You’ll see.”

Elena gave a disgruntled huff but allowed Bela her secrecy. She didn’t really have a choice. If Bela really didn’t want to tell her, no amount of whining or wheedling would get her to give in. Still, she dragged her feet just a little to show her disapproval.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, she stopped scuffing her shoes. “No, thank you.”

Bela laughed, but let her be.

More than one frazzled maid flashed past them as they walked the halls, dipping into hasty bows and then hurrying off again. It was clear something was going on, something important. Anxiety bubbled in her belly, suspicion sharpening. She gripped Bela’s hand tighter, receiving a reassuring squeeze back as Bela towed her down the stairs and onto the landing above the main hall.

“A little more to the left,” Cassandra commanded, elbows on the railing. “Your other left. Shall I cut the right off, that might make it easier for you?”

Daniela snickered, perched on the railing beside her with her legs swinging.

The hall below was controlled chaos. A few maids scurried to follow Cassandra’s order, nudging the carpet runners to her satisfaction. A half-dozen more maids were scrambling in all directions, carting away dirty mop water, setting fresh flowers in vases, straightening paintings. It only made Elena’s suspicions swell even further.

“Tormenting the staff, are we?”

Cassandra turned at Bela’s pointed tone, offering her a feral flash of her teeth. “Ensuring only the finest reception while some of us were too busy lazing away. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Bela rolled her eyes. 

“Good afternoon, baby sister,” Daniela greeted, shoving herself backwards off the railing, making Elena’s eyes widen. But she dispersed into a cascade of flies before she hit the ground, reforming mere inches away. She peered at Elena’s face in open curiosity. “Did you have a good nap?”

Elena was too used to Daniela’s sudden appearances to flinch, but only just. “I did.”

Of course, it was jarring to wake in a bed without the scent of the Lady’s perfume and the familiarity of the subtle divots in the mattress. But Bela had been there, book in hand. She’d smoothed absent circles between Elena’s shoulder blades, tracing over the faint knobs of her spine. After the initial heart-pounding surprise, Elena found herself easing under the gentle touches, dozing in and out again until Bela finally strong-armed her out of bed.

Daniela giggled, reaching out and running her fingertip over subtle pillow-creases still embedded in her cheek. “I wish I could have joined you,” she said, giving a pouty look over Elena’s shoulder. Bela wisely did not comment. “We had to clean up your surprise.”

Elena’s interest piqued. “How come?”

Bela interceded, eyeing her sisters meaningfully. “I haven’t told her.”

“Oh,” Daniela’s eyes rounded with excitement.

Elena’s eyes narrowed a little, glancing between them and the activity below. Roxana hurried into the room, barking commands and sending the staff to their stations. Something itched in the back of her brain. A handful of senior maids stood attentively at the entrance. Roxana herself approached the door, a familiar key in her hand.

Her stomach fluttered with butterfly wings.

Elena’s attention slammed back to Bela, words tumbling out in a rush. “Is Mommy coming home?”

She turned red. Then redder still when Cassandra snickered under her breath and Daniela went all wide-eyed with interest. She huffed, turning on her heel to hide her mortification. Instead, she leaned further into Bela’s orbit, peering up at her expectantly.

“I suppose the cat’s out of the bag,” Bela replied, her gaze soft and warm as honey. “Mother will be home any moment.”

“Oh.” 

Elena plucked nervously at her sleeve, eyes dropping to her feet.

“What’s the matter?” Bela asked, reaching out to try and nudge her chin up. “Nervous?”

She kept her head stubbornly down, shaking off the touch, her throat squeezing too hard to speak.

Her emotions were complicated things, churning uncomfortably in her belly. Though there was a fair share of anticipation and dread, there was something much worse underlying it—excitement. Elena was self-aware enough to know she shouldn’t feel it, but helpless to stop it. It sat caustic in her chest.

“All will be well,” Bela soothed, changing tact. “There’s no need to be upset.”

“I’m not—” her voice wavered, too throaty. “I’m not upset!”

Elena didn’t know how to express that she wasn’t upset by her coming home and that was the problem.

She felt stupid, frustrated tears swell behind her eyelids for a moment, but blinked them harshly away. She stewed in her thoughts for a while, chewing anxiously on the edge of her thumb instead. She’d felt the slipping for a while now, slowly and surely, but only now was truly beginning to realize it.

Bela gently tugged her hand away from her mouth, shushing her whine. “That’s unhygienic, little one.”

Elena avoided her eyes, shrugging.

Able to sense that there was nothing words could do, Bela reached out. Slowly, and with plenty of time for Elena to deny her, she drew her in.

Elena dived into her arms without a second thought, leaning into her like she could bury herself there forever and take refuge. She gripped Bela’s dress like a lifeline, burying her face into her chest, for once not caring how childish it made her look.

“Don’t fret,” Bela soothed, squeezing her slightly, tracing her spine through her sweater. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t.

But all the same, Elena sagged in her hold.

They didn’t have to wait long.

The creak of the hinges were impossibly loud as Roxana cracked open the door to Castle Dimitrescu for the return of its ruling Lady. The room was stiflingly silent, expectant. The fire behind them, stoked to an inferno, did nothing to warm the cold sweat at Elena’s spine.

Emerging from the flurrying snow, Alcina shook her coat as she stepped over the threshold. She unclasped her coat, dropping it into the waiting arms of a trio of maids. Her hat came after, snow sloughing off the rim, and she handed it off as well. Her hair underneath was meticulous as always, but spotted with white flakes of melting snow.

“Welcome home, My Lady,” Roxana greeted, inclining her head. “How fared your trip?”

The Lady was too mindful to scowl, but it was clearly a near thing. “Tiresome.”

“Shall I have tea prepared?”

“Later, I’m afraid I have duties to attend to,” Alcina replied, her eyes finding the staircase. Though she kept a professional face in front of the staff, the light in her eyes was undeniable as she stared up at them. Elena huddled closer to Bela, her back to Bela’s front, kept safe in the cage of her arms.

The staff were experienced enough to recognize a dismissal when they saw one, respectfully bowing out.

Only once the entry was clear of wayward maids and cold breeze did Daniela descend from the staircase in a burst of excitement, swarming over the railing to fly into her mother’s arms. She giggled, legs swinging, when Alcina caught her. “Welcome home, Mother,” she greeted, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I missed you!”

Cassandra joined them, standing a half-step back. “Welcome home, Mother.”

Alcina set Daniela down, tugging Cassandra closer so she could press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve missed you both, my darlings. You were good while I was away?”

“Like angels, Mother.”

Alcina smiled like Cassandra had said something spectacularly funny, but accepted it. “And you treated your little sister well?”

“They did, Mother,” Bela answered, coaxing Elena down the stairs, eyes crinkling at the way she dragged her feet nervously on the carpet runner. “Didn’t they, little one?”

Elena eked out a strangled noise that she hoped sounded like agreement, fiddling with her sleeves again as she stared up into the amused golden eyes of the Lady returned. Again, nestled next to the dread and embarrassment, she felt the spark of something genuinely and terrifyingly relieved at the sight of her.

“My darling,” Alcina said, lip quirking. “Aren’t you going to welcome Mommy home?”

She fumbled for words for a moment, mouth opening and closing. Eventually, she parroted a few words. “Welcome home, Mommy.”

A firm hand on her lower back nudged her forward and she was half-tempted to dig her heels in, but the silent pressure of all eyes on her made her take step after step, staggering slowly forward. Bela rubbed a soothing circle there, then gave her one final nudge, until she was standing before her mother.

Alcina scooped her up easily with one arm, holding her close. “And have you been good for your big sisters?”

Elena whined uncomfortably at being picked up, squirming slightly in her arms, but ultimately settled into the familiar hold with resignation, knowing that there was no way to escape her unyielding grip. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Did you have fun with your sisters while Mommy was gone?”

She felt her cheeks flush indignantly at the syrupy, babying tone, but wisely chose to temper her tongue. “Yes.”

“Is that all you can say, sweetheart?” Alcina coaxed, teasing her. She mused aloud, “Though it is a refreshing change from all the arguing.”

Elena scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alcina chuckled, using her free hand to softly pinch her lower lip, ignoring her whines of protest. “Mm, there’s my little girl. I missed that stubborn pout of yours dearly.”

Sometimes it was easy to see where Cassandra got it from.

Elena glowered, but knew better than to smack the Lady’s hand. Instead, she curled her fingers around the gloved fingers, coaxing, giving her the best pleading eyes she could. Was it a poor manipulation? Yes, but the Lady always rewarded affection.

Sure enough, Alcina gave her a knowing look but allowed Elena to pull her hand away. She studied the smaller fingers hooked around her own, a strange look in her eyes. She smiled. “How charming.”

Elena slowly let go, shifting uncomfortably in her arms. “Can I get down now? Please?” 

“So eager to leave Mommy already?” Unfairly, the Lady held her even closer, Elena’s ear pressed tight to her chest so she could hear the familiar thud of her heart. “I just want to keep you here forever.”

She was teasing her, Elena knew it, but there was undeniable truth to the words. She protested, whining and wriggling in the hold. The Lady just weathered her struggles with an amused chuckle, one arm curled under her thighs and the other coming to coil around her shoulder, squeezing her into place. Only when Elena gave up, panting a little, did Alcina loosen her hold a fraction. 

“Good girl,” she praised, pressing a kiss to the top of Elena’s head. 

Elena hated the way her heart jumped, turning to press her face further into the Lady’s chest, hiding from the affection. It made it all the easier for her to hear the responding laugh.

“Now, now,” Alcina cooed. “No need to be shy, darling.”

Elena ignored her, staying pressed there and grumbling something unfavorable into the skin at her neckline, which was toasty warm despite having been out in the snow only moments before. Despite herself, she relaxed when a hand rubbed at her back like she was a fussy child, only half-listening as the Lady exchanged words with her daughters. 

Abruptly, she realized that the girls weren’t the only ones she was addressing.

Embarrassed at being seen in such a state by someone else, Elena hastily picked her head up, peeking curiously over the Lady’s shoulder. 

A new presence lurked behind the Lady like a shadow, dressed dark like a woman in mourning. It took a moment, but Elena’s brain clicked as she recognized the form of Lady Beneviento—reclusive, quiet, a woman seen only in portraits in Mother Miranda’s church. Elena knew of her, but in the time she’d lived in the castle, she had never met her.

“Done being shy?” Alcina asked, eyes gleaming. She shifted her, settling Elena on her hip and turning to more fully regard the other Lord. “I would like you to meet your aunt.”

There was little reaction to the new title from the woman herself, nothing discernible behind the veil she wore. But there was a slight twitch of her head to the side, matched only by what she held in her arms—

Elena stiffened, trying to hide her recoil as the doll cocked its head at her. Was that a wedding dress? She felt her skin break out in goosebumps, but tried her best to tack on a polite smile. It was a lopsided grimace more than anything. “Good evening, Lord Beneviento.”

“She does occasionally remember her manners,” Alcina chuckled fondly to their guest. “No need for formalities, darling. You may address her as Aunt Donna.”

She stiffened, but the silence was heavy and expectant, so Elena forced herself to try again. Though, she clung further to the Lady, trying to hide her trepidation as she did. "Good evening, Aunt Donna."

"Do forgive her, Donna," Alcina continued, petting her hair. "She's still adjusting."

Donna tilted her head behind her veil but said nothing. However, the doll in her arms came alive, cackling far too loudly as it reached for Elena. "Oh, she's CUTE! Bring her closer, big lady. I wanna get a good look!"

Elena dug her fingernails into Alcina's shoulder like a cat hung over a bath, bristling with fear. Her brain flashed back to dolls swinging by nooses from the trees, dangling above ancient gravestones that jutted in strange angles like broken necks. The beady eyes made her skin crawl. She couldn't be sure if it was the doll or the Lord speaking, but either way it made her want to shriek.

“No,” she whimpered, low, so only Alcina could hear her. “Please.”

Unfortunately, whether it was propriety or refusal to bend to Elena's whims that drove it, Alcina carried her closer to Donna and the doll held in her arms. It wiggled in excitement, but thankfully was not set free. "This is Angie," Alcina introduced, and there was a minor note of distaste to her voice. “Donna's…companion.”

“Oh, she's even cuter up close,” Angie said, her voice high pitched and yet strangely raspy. All of Elena's hair stood on end as the doll leaned towards her. “You got a thing for redheads?”

Alcina scoffed. "I do not choose my daughters based on hair color."

The indignation on her face would have made Elena laugh, but she was too busy trying and somewhat failing to keep up her polite smile.

“It’s a pleasure to have you join us again, Aunt Donna, Angie,” Bela interceded, and her polite smile was much more masterful than Elena’s wobbly one. “I hope the weather wasn’t too much of a burden. If you’d like, I can arrange some tea in your usual quarters?”

Elena was surprised when instead of the doll, with its shrill and high voice, a much deeper and raspier voice came from behind Donna’s veil. “Yes…please.”

“Excellent, I’ll escort you,” Bela offered. “Mother, may I offer you the same?”

“And a bath,” Alcina said, allowing herself to scowl just a little in good company. “I can still smell the horrid scent of that fool Heisenberg in the air. Lest I mention Salvatore. Have the maids wash my clothing twice.”

The girls shared giggles, even Elena pressing one into Alcina’s shoulder.

Bela hid her laugh behind her hand. “Yes, Mother. I’ll see to it.”

Before Bela could dip off to escort Donna, Alcina reached out and drew her in closer. She leaned down to give her a one-armed hug, chuckling at Elena’s squeak as she was suddenly held parallel to the floor. “Thank you for taking care of your sisters, my darling,” Alcina said, kissing Bela’s cheek. “We’ll speak of it later.”

When she was let free, Bela beamed. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Go, see to your aunt,” Alcina dismissed, straightening and nudging her eldest off. “Donna, make yourself at home. We’ll speak more after dinner tonight, yes?”

The veil bobbed in what was clearly a confirmation, the response too quiet to catch, a hum almost eclipsed by the howling winds outside. The doll in her arms had fallen silent and still, like its strings had been cut. Yet, Angie’s wide and sightless eyes still made Elena’s skin burst out in goosebumps.

“Excellent,” Alcina said, focus shifting to Daniela and Cassandra, who were both standing at attention like soldiers awaiting orders—though, the looks of painted innocence upon their faces rather promised the opposite. “Girls, do you think you can entertain yourselves until dinner? Without running through all of my staff?”

“Of course, Mother,” Cassandra answered, grinning with a little too much teeth. “Perhaps only one?”

“Each?” Daniela chimed in cheekily, hands laced beneath her chin. “As a treat?”

Alcina sighed, but waved them onwards. “Go, before I change my mind.”

The girls cheered excitedly and dispersed into clouds of flies, soaring off together. Perhaps the most upbeat Elena had ever seen them together, almost childlike in excitement. The sound of their giggles filled the halls as they swept off into the castle proper with the goal of mayhem—the type of which Elena very deliberately chose to ignore, for her own sake.

Finally, Alcina turned her attention back to Elena.

“And as for you, my sweet girl,” she said, adjusting Elena higher on her hip and pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose, laughing at her flinch. “You’re coming with me.”

“I had one yesterday,” Elena protested, arms crossed.

“How astute,” Alcina replied, reaching out to uncross her arms, tugging them up so she could wrestle her sweater off regardless of how difficult Elena was intending to make it. Unfortunately for Elena, Alcina’s strength lended itself excellently to manhandling. “And yet today is a new day, and so you need a new bath.”

“I can have one later!”

“Inside voice, Elena,” Alcina corrected sternly, beginning to wrangle her dress over her head. “You can have one now—no more arguing.”

She snapped her mouth shut, cowed by the sharp tone. But she still dug her heels into the soft mat beneath them, going stiff-limbed and unhelpful in protest as she was undressed. The Lady clucked her tongue but easily wrestled her out of her clothes and into the bath.

“Don’t scowl so much darling, your face might get stuck that way,” Alcina commented lightly, beginning to work on her own dress.

Elena huffed, shoulder-deep in the water and blowing a few holes in the bubbly surface. Still, out of the corner of her eye she watched as the Lady unbuttoned her dress, an angle that looked exceptionally awkward without assistance. She felt perhaps a little guilty for not helping. But it was quickly forgotten in favor of a mortified squeak as her dress tumbled down.

Alcina’s eyes darted to her, finding her pink-cheeked and eyes averted. “Still shy?”

She grumbled something unintelligible, sinking deeper into the water. 

“There’s no shame in being curious, darling, we’ve discussed this,” Alcina teased, stepping out of the last of her clothing, standing proud and unbothered in her own skin. 

Despite herself, Elena glanced at her in askance. 

Alcina met her gaze evenly, amusement shining in her eyes when Elena’s own darted hastily away again. She laughed, slipping into the bath and sliding in behind her. “You are a study in contrasts, aren’t you?”

Elena squinted suspiciously as she was tugged into her lap. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re my headstrong, brave little girl,” she said, gathering Elena’s hair into a loose bunch and tucking it to the side. She ran a thoughtful fingertip over the pink scars where her neck and shoulder met. “And yet, you turn such a pretty red at the smallest things.”

Traitorously, Elena felt a flush burning to the tips of her ears, shivering at the touch. “Don’t tease me.”

“But I’ve missed it so,” Alcina chuckled, leaning to press her lips to the mark. However, she settled a little more fully against the back of the bath, drawing Elena’s back tighter to her front. A sigh escaped her. “I’m glad to return home to you, darling. Though Donna and Mother Miranda are somewhat acceptable company, a few more days with those idiot brothers of mine and I may have lost my mind.”

She stiffened then relaxed into her hold. “What was it like?”

“Trying,” Alcina replied shortly. “Pray you never meet your uncles, they’re intolerable at best.”

Elena popped a bubble with her thumb, shifting absently. “What about Aunt Donna? Why did you bring her home with you?”

“Donna is the most tolerable sibling I have, but I didn’t invite her home out of niceties, I’m afraid,” Alcina said, her arm curling around Elena’s middle, fingers spreading over her belly, holding her still. “We have some work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“Nothing little girls like you need to worry about,” Alcina replied, ruthlessly cutting through that line of enquiry. “Suffice to say, Donna’s…unique talents are of aid to me.”

Elena couldn’t resist one more push. “What kind of talents?”

A hand squeezed her thigh, nails digging in ever so slightly, even as a kiss was pressed behind her ear. “See? So brave.”

She wisely shut her mouth.

For a long time, the Lady was content to just lean back and hold her, squeezing her like it had been weeks and not days.

Elena gave up fidgeting quickly, succumbing to the affection. It wasn’t bad. It was actually rather nice. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until the tension fled her, something that had been unsettled deep easing back into place. It made her comfortable enough to relax, just a little.

She was drowsy in the Lady’s arms by the time she shifted them back upright, recognizing that it was time to actually make good on the bathing portion of the bath. Elena made content noises, eyes closing as gentle hands washed her hair, scratching pleasantly at her scalp. It was only the eventual touch of a washcloth that forced her eyes back open, an embarrassed noise eking out of her.

“Hush,” Alcina soothed, working the soap into her skin. “Be a good girl for Mommy.”

She turned bright red but allowed the Lady to clean her without too much argument, far too used to it to really put up more than a token fight. It was over quickly anyway. Then the Lady tapped her hip, nudging her out of her lap like a bird from a nest, intent on taking the time to clean herself as well.

Elena took the chance to stretch her legs a little bit, aimlessly treading water in the deeper end. It was pleasant for a while, but the minutes dragged on and the silence was a little stifling. She began to grow a little tired too, internally lamenting the days where she could hike and run and stand for hours on end. 

She paddled to the opposite end of the bath, settling on the opposite bench seat. Even sitting upright, the water licked at her collar, a little too high to be entirely comfortable. She sighed, bored and frustrated both, something that earned her an amused look. She missed having tasks, a schedule, things to do to keep herself busy. 

Bored, she gathered a mound of bubbles on the water, just to pop them all with one ruthless slap.

“Sweetheart,” Alcina reprimanded sternly, water spotting her cheek. “It’s a bath, not a swimming pool. No splashing.”

Elena sighed again, blowing a few more bubbles off her palm. “Can I get out now?”

“You can’t be that restless already, darling, it’s been five minutes,” Alcina denied, studying her carefully as she rinsed conditioner from the ends of her hair. “Patience is a virtue, so they say.”

She pulled a face. 

“Children and their attention spans,” Alcina sighed, but she wore a strange smile. It was an expression that made Elena shiver with anxiety, sinking down until the water met her chin. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to the Duke again.”

That didn’t bode well.

“For what?” she asked suspiciously.

Alcina just began to hum a soft tune, returning to washing her hair, leaving her question unanswered.

Elena tucked her legs underneath her, curling up safely in the armchair across from the Lady. She wore her fluffy gray bath robe, the hood pulled up to keep her ears warm and help dry her hair. She pointedly ignored the rounded ears on top, scowling when the Lady smiled fondly at her. But much more of concern was the teapot, from which the Lady was slowly pouring a serving.

Alcina laughed at the look on her face. “Don’t worry, darling, it’s not for you.”

“What is it?” Elena said, peering dubiously at the steaming liquid. “It looks weird.”

“Tea,” Alcina replied, setting the pot down and raising a cup of the orange-colored tea to her lips. She inhaled softly, taking in the aroma with an ambiguous hum. “Your aunt’s quite taken with making new and unique blends. This one was a special gift.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s tea, darling. Does it have to do anything?”

Elena’s face scrunched. “Mine does.”

“Because you, sweet girl, cannot be trusted,” Alcina said simply, giving her a pointed look. “Now, enough questions, eat your snack—unless you need Mommy’s help?”

“No, thank you!”

Alcina chuckled at the quick denial, but let her be.

Elena tugged her tray closer, glaring at the clunky utensil set next to her fruit bowl. She ignored it, reaching into the bowl and moodily shoving an apple slice into her mouth instead. The Lady watched her with a raised brow, sipping at her tea, but didn’t complain about the woeful table manners. Taking it as giving her blessing, Elena stuffed another slice in her mouth. 

“Slow down, they apples aren’t going anywhere,” Alcina interrupted sternly, but there was amusement in her tone. “If you choke, Mommy will have to hand feed you.”

She let out an unhappy noise, but made a show of aggressively chewing and swallowing, earning her an eye roll. She wasn’t really hungry anyway, Cassandra had seen to that by plying her with treats. The apples were refreshing though and the slices had been half-peeled so that the skin stuck out like bunny ears, which was admittedly cute.

As Elena ate, she studied the Lady openly. She looked alarmingly casual, wrapped up in her robe, hair loose and curling at the ends as it dried. She wore no makeup for now, making the lines on her face a little deeper. With each sip of tea she grimaced a little, as if there wasn’t quite enough sugar. It all made her look softer, slightly more human.

“Why are you smiling, sweetheart?”

Elena jolted, dropping the apple slice she was fiddling with and covering her mouth with her hand. Her stomach fluttered traitorously. She hadn’t even realized she was smiling. “I don’t know.”

Alcina studied her intensely, eyes gleaming, but let the matter go.

Chapter Text

“Why are we here?”

Alcina hummed. “That’s quite the philosophical question, darling.”

“No, I mean—why are we in here?”

Though Elena squirmed in protest, the Lady had only chuckled as she carried her into the child’s room across the hall. Now, she found herself cut loose in the middle of the room, digging her bare toes into a soft carpet and peering dubiously up at the Lady. Her tone earned a playful tug of her robe hood over her eyes, making her grumble.

“Because we’ve a few hours until dinner and you, my sweet girl, seemed rather restless,” she said, smirking at the glower peeking out from beneath the fluffy hood. Alcina’s teasing tone took a slightly more genuine one. “And, rather selfishly, Mommy is in need of some peace and quiet after dealing with her siblings. I thought perhaps you might be content to entertain yourself for a little while.”

“By myself?” 

“Certainly not,” Alcina replied, amused by her incredulous and somewhat hopeful tone. “Mommy’s just going to sit and relax for a bit. Is that alright with you, darling?”

Her face pinched. “You could do that in our room.”

“I’m sure I could, but a change of scenery is good for us both and I’m sure you can find something to do,” Alcina said, pointedly waving a hand at all of the toys and items around the room. When she caught Elena wrinkling her nose, she reached out and flicked it gently, ignoring her yelp. “Can you be good for me?”

Elena shifted from foot to foot, considering the request. She couldn’t understand why the Lady hadn’t just left her with one of the girls if she wanted time to herself. Still, there were worse things she’d been asked to do. Even sitting quietly in a corner was better than the alternative.

“I guess,” she hedged, eyeing the art supplies set on the desk thoughtfully.

Alcina leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then a light tap on the back. “Go on then, my darling.”

Despite all her misgivings, Elena slowly edged over to the desk. She gingerly took a seat, studying the art supplies. She didn’t really know where to begin. Daniela had only helped her smear paint on a canvas with her hands, to feel the way colors blended and have fun without the fear of perfection.

She smoothed a piece of paper out, chewing at her lower lip thoughtfully. As always, indecision threatened to paralyze her, so she didn’t give herself time to think about it. Embracing Daniela’s lesson, she just set pencil to paper and drew a squiggle in the corner. It wasn’t artistic or particularly inspiring, but spoiling the blank page was liberating in its own little way. She doodled a few more wonky stars and wiggly lines, working in the margins.

As she absently scrawled, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at the Lady from time to time. She was still dressed down in only a robe, hair drying in soft curls. She lounged in the rocking chair with one leg crossed over the other. She had retrieved a leather-bound book, but it sat unread in her lap. Instead, she smoked a cigarette with her eyes closed, seeming a million miles away.

Not for the first time, she wondered just what the Lady’s time with her family entailed. She had heard stories of Mother Miranda, had seen her sermons, had heard tales of the other Lords. It was hard to know what was truth and what was stranger than fiction. It chafed, as it always did, to be left in the dark.

Sighing, she refocused on her page, leaving the Lady to her brooding.

In a quiet haze of focus, Elena lost herself in the soft scratching of pencil to paper. The outside world existed to her only in suggestions: the occasional footfalls of maids outside the door, the gentle creak of the Lady’s rocking chair, the whistle of the wind outside the castle. It was familiar, in its own way, to fall headlong into a task.

As such, it came as a surprise when a heavy presence fell upon her.

“What did you draw, darling?”

She squeaked, startled, and tried to cover her art with her hands. Unfortunately, even on her best day, she’d proved incapable of hiding anything from the Lady. The paper was snagged before she could do more than drop her pencil. The doodles and lopsided attempts at sketches were surveyed under a curious eye.

Thoughtlessly, she reached up. “Give it back!”

“Manners, Elena,” Alcina corrected, catching her hand and pressing it firmly back to the desk. “That’s not how you ask for something.”

She recoiled, remembering herself. Perhaps she had spent too much time with Cassandra. She schooled her startled expression into something she hoped was more imploring than demanding, but wasn’t quite able to wrangle the agitation out of her tone. “May I please have it back?”

Alcina shushed her, free hand settling on her head and massaging reassuringly at her scalp. “Let Mommy admire your work.”

Despite herself, Elena closed her eyes at the touch, a shiver running down her spine. Her face flushed a little in embarrassment, but she abandoned her protests, knowing that the Lady would do whatever she saw fit. She only cracked her eyes open a little when she heard the sound of the paper being turned over and an amused chuckle.

“A dragon?”

She ducked away from the hand, hiding her face in her palms and letting out an embarrassed noise. Daniela’s story had infiltrated her subconscious, the misshapen sketch accompanied by stick-figure knights and princesses.

“You’ve got quite an eye for color,” Alcina praised, chuckling softly at her shyness. She traced red scales and yellow wings with her eyes, a small smile curling at the corner of her lip. “May I have this?”

Elena peeked between her fingers, suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you made it, silly girl. How could I not cherish it?”

The words made an unexpected, unwanted burst of warmth flourish in her chest. It took all of her effort to wrangle her expression, head down as she covered her eyes with her hands again. When she spoke, her voice came out muffled and reluctant, vulnerability concealed once again by something pricklier. “Do whatever you want.”

“Oh? Perhaps I’ll frame it above the mantle?” Alcina teased, seeing through the veneer immediately. “Or maybe it would look better in the entrance hall?”

She sighed loudly, making her opinion known.

Rather than correcting her for it, she only received a chuckle in return.

Carefully, Alcina folded the drawing and tucked it into her bosom. Then, she reached out and coaxed Elena’s hands away from her face, revealing flushed cheeks and averted eyes. The sight made her smile. “Take pride in your work, darling. Even history’s greatest artists once had to be taught how to hold a pencil.”

After having her hands scrubbed clean from graphite smudges and changed into a nice dress, Elena led the way to the dining hall. She meandered slowly through the halls, the Lady’s footfalls following protectively behind. She didn’t know how to feel about a meal with Aunt Donna and her companion, and so was admittedly dragging her feet. 

Perhaps a little too much, because she shrieked when she was suddenly scooped up from behind.

“My apologies, darling,” Alcina cooed, the tone telling Elena’s that she wasn’t sorry in the slightest. She settled Elena on her hip, pressing a hand over her chest, feeling her racing heart. “Did Mommy scare you?”

“I wasn’t scared,” she insisted stubbornly, arms crossed.

“Of course not,” Alcina replied, kissing her cheek. “You’re my brave little girl, aren’t you?”

Elena didn’t even bother fighting the words, syrupy and babying as they were. Instead, she made a sulky noise and turned her face away, making a show of studying the paintings they passed instead. She wondered how many of them had been painted in Daniela or the Lady’s own hand. 

Alcina chuckled and let her pout, picking up the pace as they moved through the castle.

Before long, they swept through the doors of the dining hall to find the entire family, including their guests, waiting for them. 

Bela had her head bent to the side, speaking softly to Lord Beneviento. With her usual spot occupied, Cassandra had slipped into Elena’s, sans high chair, and was spinning a steak knife around on her palm looking bored. Lastly, Daniela was exchanging excited chatter with the doll, Angie.

Elena fought not to let her nerves show, but the stroke of a hand down her back told her that the Lady hadn’t missed her shiver. She pressed her face into the Lady’s shoulder instead, avoiding the doll’s glassy eyes and the attention of their new guest. It felt…different to be on display for a virtual stranger, embarrassing and intimidating in its own way, somehow more than it had been in their brief meeting earlier.

“Why so shy, darling?” Alcina asked. “Where did your bravery go?”

She shook her head, holding her tongue.

The Lady didn’t seem surprised by her reticence, eyeing her carefully. Ultimately she didn’t push, busying herself with settling into her customary seat at the head of the table. Elena whined when she was pried away from her shoulder, but settled swiftly when Alcina wrangled her sideways in her lap, trapping her in the protective cage of her arms.

“Now, Donna,” Alcina cut through the gentle conversation. “I do hope you’ve settled well.”

There was a slight inclination of the veiled woman’s head, but no verbal reply—not from her, at least. Angie let out a laugh, shrill and grating. “You betcha, big lady. We had loads of fun!”

There was a barely perceptible flicker of irritation across Alcina’s face, there then gone, that made her daughters share a snicker. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said stiffly, shooting them a warning look. “It’s our pleasure to host you, as always. Although there is work to be done, I’m certain that Elena would love to get to know her aunt a little more, should you have time.”

Elena jolted at being thrown to the wolves, head whipping up to peer incredulously at the Lady. “But—”

“Wouldn’t you, Elena?” Alcina asked, attention turning down.

She sucked in a sharp breath, turning her face away. “Yes.”

The arms wrapped casually around her tightened, squeezing her in something like a possessive hug. It should have been suffocating, but it was strangely calming, like being bundled in a heavy blanket. Elena surrendered to her with a soft huff, listening to the soft thud of the Lady’s heart beneath her ear. 

Cassandra’s eyes met hers, shining with mirth. Elena scowled back, but stayed right where she was.

As the maids bustled around the room with serving carts, Elena plucked irritably at her neck.

“Leave it, Elena,” Alcina reprimanded, tugging her hands away from the cloth that had been tied there. “You’ve already had a bath, I’d rather not give you another.”

She felt the flush burn up her neck at the words, more mortifying than ever when so casually mentioned in front of the staff and their guest. That was without even accounting for the bib around her neck. She squirmed in protest, but her hands only worked uselessly in the grasp of much larger ones. After a few seconds of silent protest, she reluctantly caved in and fell still.

Her hands were squeezed. “Good girl.”

She sat straight now instead of sideways in the Lady’s lap, which let her look further down the table. She quietly watched as elaborate dishes were set out, dodging the eyes of the staff as they set two down in front of her. It was obvious which was for her, least of all because of its positioning. She smothered a groan.

The Lady’s quiet laugh rumbled through them both, and she let go of Elena’s hands. “Would you like Mommy to help, darling?”

“No, thank you,” she said, snatching up her childish utensil. “I can do it.”

Alcina chuckled fondly, picking up her freshly filled wine glass and taking an indulgent sip. While Elena dug quickly into her meal, the Lady seemed content to ignore her own for a while. Instead, she turned her head towards Cassandra, who was ripping into a seared hunk of meat with her teeth, knife sitting in her hand unused.

“Cassandra,” she called. “Please do try to observe some table manners. Your little sister is supposed to be the messy one.”

She received an unrepentant, half-feral grin in return. “Sorry, Mother.”

A little affronted, Elena huffed at them both but was extra careful in cramming a forkful of pasta into her mouth. It was hard and a little clumsy, the long strands slipping off of the tines of the rounded fork. Still, she felt a spark of vindictive pleasure when she managed to take a mouthful without even a single slip.

The same could not be said for Angie, who had apparently been served a small plate of her own and was proceeding to ‘eat’ it. Elena peered at the doll for a while, horrified in an entirely new way. Careless of the fact that she couldn’t actually eat it, Angie was mostly just pulverizing the food in her wooden mouth and making a horrible mess everywhere.

Daniela didn’t seem to find fault with it, continuing her cheerful conversation with the doll and snickering loudly at the way the food ended up all over. Unlike Elena, she had no sympathy for the poor maid who would have to sweep it all up later.

She glanced incredulously at Donna to see if she would intercede—only to find she was looking right back.

It was nothing like the mild, sorrowful presence she’d first met in the hall. Now, there was something about her that pulled at Elena, something heavy and eerie that commanded her attention. Despite the veil, she could almost see the dark depths of her eyes, endless and patient. It didn’t feel malicious, but she froze like a startled rabbit all the same.

There was a familiar scent in the air, so thick that she could taste it, that it filled her lungs. It was sweet, like wildflowers and melted sugar, and yet in the base notes there was something off. It made all of the hair on the back of her neck raise, but she couldn’t figure out why. She knew that smell, the taste, the way it soured on the back of her tongue—

A sudden pinch to her hand startled Elena back to herself, the spell broken as quickly as it began.

She jolted, fork clattering out of her hand and back into her bowl. Red sauce sprayed across the pristine table cloth. Elena jerked her head sharply to meet Cassandra’s gaze, wide-eyed and rattled. Her skin broke out into goosebumps, hidden by the wool sweater she wore over her dress. 

“It’s rude to stare, sister,” Cassandra prompted, her face unreadable.

Elena shook her head as a dog might, as if she could physically shake off the sudden disquiet that had taken root inside. All of the eyes in the room had snapped to her, especially Daniela, who licked a stray splatter of sauce from her cheek with a high-pitched laugh. She only belatedly realized what she’d done, opening and closing her mouth uselessly with half-stuttered apologies.

A maid surged forward, rag in hand, but Alcina waved her away.

“I think that’s quite enough independence for one day,” Alcina announced, setting her wine glass down and dragging the plate away from Elena. Her tone was firm but not unkind. She took Elena’s hand in her own, using a napkin to scrub away a spray of tomato sauce. “Are you feeling okay, darling? You’ve been awfully jumpy since Mommy got home.”

“She’s always been jumpy, Mother,” Cassandra teased. “And the mess is nothing new.”

Again, she shook her head. She wasn’t able to put into words exactly what had unsettled her, or to identify that anything had happened. Even an ill-advised glance back to Donna found the intensity gone, nothing discernible except subtle interest. Not even that strange, familiar scent remained. Had it all been her imagination?

“I’m fine,” Elena decided, taking deep breaths to steady her racing heart.

Alcina hummed as if she didn’t quite believe her. She shifted Elena as easily as one would an actual child, turning her sideways so she could study her face. She gazed deeply into Elena’s eyes for a long moment, studying her. There was a different sort of intensity to her gaze, a familiar weight that Elena had grown comfortable with over time. Undaunted, she met the Lady’s eyes, studying the soft, almost luminous flecks of gold she found there.

Whatever she was looking for, the Lady must have found it, because a slow smile furled across her face.

Elena squirmed instinctively as an arm curled possessively around her. Another arm settled over her legs, restraining her almost as well as her high chair did. “You’re like a little caterpillar, always wriggling,” Alcina said, a subtle reprimand that was softened by the amusement in her voice.

Embarrassed, she settled down. 

The Lady chuckled at her expression, letting go of her legs so she could instead reach for Elena’s discarded utensil. It looked tiny and ridiculous in her grasp, but she scooped up a forkful with a frankly infuriating ease and presented it to her. “Open.”

Her heart beating steady, feeling settled once more, Elena found the energy to frown. “But you said I could—”

She was cut off by a gentle but insistent fork being pushed into her mouth. “That was before you ruined my tablecloth, sweetheart.”

The beginning of her protests were muffled before she could even get them out, a thumb and forefinger pinching her lips closed. “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

She made an offended sound, but the Lady just held them until she awkwardly chewed and swallowed, then let go and scooped up another serving. She glowered, but opened her mouth willingly for the next bite.

As strange as it was, Elena quietly found a measure of comfort in her discomfort. Before everything happened, she’d been a creature of habit and routine. Now, it was all upturned. In the absence of real stability, the Lady’s overbearing attitude and constant manhandling had become her new normal. In turn, her defensive mechanism had become its own routine, the act of playing the petulant child an almost soothing constant. 

Admittedly, she knew her resistance only played into the Lady’s hand. The constant babying, the patronizing tone, renaming moments of anger to tantrums. Elena knew she shouldn’t indulge in such a slippery slope. But the need for emotional release, to roil even a little against her circumstances, overpowered her rationality more often than not. 

Satisfied with Elena’s obedience, Alcina allowed her a little more room to breathe. Between feeding Elena bites, she took occasional forkfuls of her own meal, sipping wine and sharing idle conversation with her daughters.

“I read her lots of stories, Mother,” Daniel mentioned, head-long into retelling a somewhat censored tale of all the things she had gotten up to in her mother’s absence, with and without Elena. She was leaning heavily against Cassandra’s shoulder, peering at her mother, ignoring her sister’s irritable grumble. “Bela made me pick only a few, but we have so many more to read.”

“I see,” Alcina said slowly, giving Elena a slightly wicked smile. “And I suppose one of these delightful tales featured a dragon?”

Elena’s head whipped up at the sudden, mortifying line of inquiry. She turned her face to try and give Daniela a pleading look, begging her not to go into details, but she mostly just ended up smearing the waiting forkful of pasta all over her face. Daniela just lit up when their eyes met, smiling with raw excitement.

“Yes! That was our favorite. I even got her to act it out with me!” Daniela crowed, practically incandescent with satisfaction, heedless of Elena’s embarrassment. “She got to be the princess locked up in the tower, and I was the gallant knight who had come to save her from the evil dragon’s clutches.”

Cassandra snorted, shoving her off. “Well, she does look an awful lot like a princess,” she noted, winking at Elena, then turned her sly smirk on her mother. “Though I think the dragon would win, don’t you, Mother?”

Alcina chuckled, but did not disagree. “Allow children their fairy tales, Cassandra.”

“It would be fun if the dragon won,” Daniela acknowledged thoughtfully, but then shook her head. “But I like the knight rescuing the princess from her tower and slaying the dragon. It’s romantic.”

“Who needs a sweaty, disgusting man-thing to save them,” Cassandra retorted, nose wrinkling. “The princess should call on the dragon to scorch the kingdom’s lands for locking her up in the first place. That’s a story worth reading.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Revenge fantasies don’t make appropriate bedtime material.”

“Oh, please, she’s seen worse than that before breakfast.”

“That’s enough talk of brutality at the dinner table, girls,” Alcina called, using the bib to scrub pasta sauce from Elena’s face and ignoring her muttered protests. “If you have issue with your sister’s reading material, perhaps you should take turns selecting something for her. I’m not sure what sort could be found in that wretched village, but I’m certain she’d benefit from your…diverse reading tastes.”

“Is diverse what we’re calling the sordid little collection Daniela keeps under her bed?”

Daniela hissed. “Who told you about that?”

“I hear everything,” Cassandra retorted, giving her a salacious wink. 

For once, Elena had the unique experience of watching someone else turn as red as their hair. It seemed that Daniela didn’t quite lack a sense of shame, as she’d believed, but that it could only be activated by the unique teasing of an older sibling. 

Elena had sympathy for her. She remembered well the less than proper novels passed around by the village girls. At times, the thrill of being caught red-handed was more titillating than novels themselves—at least, until her mamă found one in her bedside table and she vowed never to bring another one home again.

Alcina cleared her throat, expression long-suffering. “Please keep your choices appropriate.”

Daniela shrunk down in her seat, dragging the hood of her dark dress over her head to hide her blush. “Yes, Mother.”

Elena couldn’t help but laugh, turning to muffle her helpless giggles into the Lady’s chest. After being so unsettled and frustrated earlier, it felt comforting to laugh, the last of her lingering tension draining out of her as she pressed her laughter into warm skin.

“Silly thing,” Alcina sighed, yet cradled her adoringly closer. “Your sisters are terrible influences, aren’t they?”

Despite herself, she buried her grin into the Lady’s skin. “Mmhm.”

The rest of dinner passed in much the same fashion, until plates were empty and wine glasses refilled. Though she’d never seen her eat or the veil move, even Donna’s plate was empty between one blink and the next. In dinner’s place, a familiar chocolate cake was brought out for dessert. It was delicious—though somehow not quite so much as when she’d shared it together with Daniela, clustered together on the stairs.

Before she knew it, weighed down by heavy food and rich dessert, she was flagging in the Lady’s arms. The chatter of voices around her was soothing, relaxing, and she ended up tucking her face into the Lady’s neck to hide how her eyes kept closing. She stayed there, curled up in her lap, dozing for a long time in a protective embrace—not quite asleep, but just…comfortable. 

After a while, Alcina pointedly cleared her throat. “I think it’s time that someone was put to bed,” she said, rising from her chair and adjusting her hold on Elena, swaying with her slightly when she whined. “Bela, please escort your aunt to my office when you’re done here. I will join you both as soon as the little one is settled.”

“M’fine,” she slurred, voice sleep-thick. “Put me down.”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Alcina tucked her closer, ducking through the doors as the staff hurried to open them for her. “Just close your eyes.”

She yawned into her shoulder. “I’m not tired.”

“Of course not,” Alcina soothed, voice soft and calming, the gentleness that only her daughters ever saw. “But humor me, darling. I just wish to hold you for a while, is that alright with you?”

Against her better judgement, she sank further into her embrace. “Okay.”

On the trek back to the Lady’s bedchambers, Elena felt herself relax once again. The Lady hummed under her breath, wordless but familiar, the backing track on one of the songs they’d listened to that day together, before she left. Before she knew it, her traitorous eyes closed themselves once again.

Some time later, Elena whined in sleepy protest as the Lady set her down on the bathroom counter. She was fuzzy and struggling to string a coherent thought together, barely able to crack her lidded eyes open. She hadn’t recalled falling asleep, but now she felt exhausted, overwhelmingly so.

“Hush, darling,” Alcina cooed, cupping her cheek and rubbing circles with her thumb. “Just try to stay awake a little bit, can you do that for me?”

She blinked sluggishly, swaying a little but managing to stay upright with little argument. Only once she was certain she wouldn’t keel over did the Lady let go of the hand on her back. She shivered at the sudden cold, absent of the familiar body heat. But the Lady didn’t dally long, helping her to brush her teeth before she collapsed. Elena ended up with toothpaste all over her face when she briefly nodded off, but a warm washcloth was quick to wipe it away. 

Before long she was tidied up and Alcina coaxed her to turn, allowing her to sit cross-legged on the counter. She did, blearily watching in the mirror as careful hands let her hair loose from the tie, gently combing it out. The feeling of her hair being played with left her almost boneless with pleasure, turning into more of a puddle than a person as the Lady had to keep nudging her awake when she swayed. After a few long blinks, the Lady decided that the loose plait was good enough and gathered her back up.

“Are you ready for bed, darling?”

She couldn’t pretend not to be tired this time, only smothering herself back into the top of the Lady’s chest with a muffled mmhm. Her skin was warm and soft where the neckline of her dress left it bare, more comfortable than she wanted to dwell on. She easily could have fallen asleep there to the sound of the heartbeat under her ear.

“Let’s get you into some pajamas first,” Alcina mused, holding her close and swaying softly as she peered thoughtfully into the wardrobe. She ultimately decided on a night dress.

Elena was floppy and unhelpful as the Lady carried her to bed, too exhausted to do anything but whine when she was set down on the edge. The Lady smiled at her fondly, pulling her sweater and dress over her head and wrangling her into the loose dress instead. The moment she was dressed, she collapsed dramatically backwards on the bed with her arms splayed, eyes closing.

“Silly thing,” Alcina snorted, picking her legs up and hefting them onto the bed.

She couldn’t help but giggle dreamily as she was manhandled further up the mattress, the blankets coaxed out from underneath her. She wriggled slightly to get more comfortable, only stopping when the Lady tucked her into the pillows and dragged the covers over her. She distinctly felt a stuffed animal being tucked into her elbow, but couldn’t work up the effort to protest.

The Lady turned one of her wrists outwards, adjusting the thin bracelet that lived there.

“Do you have to?” Elena asked softly, sleepily.

Alcina paused, studying the tether in her hands and then her face. Her expression softened and she leaned in, pressing a kiss to Elena’s forehead. “Just for now,” she whispered, pulling away as the clasp clicked into place. “Sleep well, darling.”

Chapter Text

Bela watched tendrils of smoke curl towards the ceiling, the cigarette smoldering forgotten in the ashtray. Mother had traded it for brandy. She drank it neat, eyes closing after each slow sip. The bottle sat at her elbow, left by the maids as they hastily skittered out. Their absence left an uneasy silence, one neither Donna nor herself clamored to break.

The grandfather clock ticked ever on in the corner, waiting.

Finally, Alcina emptied her glass, setting it down with a soft thunk. “Mother Miranda has taken an interest in our work.”

Bela’s nails sank into the chair’s arm. “…In Elena, you mean.”

“Indeed.”

A million anxieties swelled in her chest, raging like a brewing storm. Mother Miranda rarely acted against the interests of her children, it kept the peace. But they all knew her goal. Her research was her primary concern. If Elena proved more valuable as a test subject than as a family member, then—

“Your sister’s safety is assured, she’s ours,” Alcina interrupted, cutting through her mounting fear. The ferocity of her tone made Bela flinch, even though it wasn’t directed at her. It spoke of a hard-won battle. “She’s to become one of us, as she was always meant to. But Mother Miranda’s interest has…hastened the timeline.”

Bela’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. “How long?”

“Months, at best.”

“Months?” Bela’s eyes rounded.

They had planned for a year, maybe more; to settle her, to acclimatize her body and mind to the changes, to slowly build up her dosages until they could safely see it done—

“Calm, Bela,” Alcina commanded. “We have not come this far to rush carelessly into things.”

She forced herself to relax, muscle by muscle, but the tension still buzzed beneath her skin like the frantic hum of insect wings. “Then what happens now?” Bela dared to ask. “How do we prepare her? Her dosage—”

“Is Donna’s and I’s primary concern,” Alcina interrupted, giving a respectful incline of her head to her fellow Lord. “With Mother Miranda’s assistance, we’ve readied an initial dosage—a rather toothless variant, just to test her reaction. I’ll administer it to your sister when I retire. Then, we must simply monitor her for the time being. I expect she may be out of sorts for a time, but nothing we cannot handle.”

Bela let that digest, fighting down her misgivings. She trusted her mother’s judgement.

Slowly, her eyes shifted over to her aunt. “You’ll be careful with her?”

The faintest hint of illusions simmered in the air around Donna, perceptible only to those who knew where to look. If she took offense at the question, it didn’t reflect on her face. The sparkle in her eyes was no illusion, nor was the upturn of her lips. Excitement was a rarity to see on her, yet all the brighter for it. For a moment, the ever-solemn sense of mourning lifted, like sunshine peeking through clouds.

“I look forward to having another niece,” Donna replied simply; a promise clearly made. 

The resolve in her voice eased the last of the tension from Bela's shoulders. Donna was not one to offer empty words, she left the playfulness and the teasing to Angie. In return, she offered Donna a small, grateful smile.

Alcina cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “Can I trust you to relay this to your sisters? Quietly.”

“Of course, Mother,” Bela answered, struggling to silence the restless energy building in her swarm. Despite her concerns, excitement bubbled in her, the knowledge that Elena was going to be finally, irrevocably theirs. “I’ll see it done.”

“Excellent. Now, on to the matter of what transpired during my absence.”

The midnight hour rang in with the softest creak as Alcina slipped inside her bedchambers.

The fire had burned low without anyone to tend it. Thankfully, the slight chill didn’t bother the small lump curled up under the covers, breaths soft and slow.

Moving effortlessly in the low light, Alcina traded dress and heels for a silken robe. A brief detour to the bathroom to remove her makeup allowed plenty of time for the trio of trusted maids to creep into the room after her. She kept a mindful ear on them; cautious footfalls, the stoking of the fire, the shifting of metal, and through it all, the softest snores. Her youngest had become a truly sound sleeper, even without her nightly aid.

By the time she stepped out, the maids had wisely departed. The room was warming once more, the mess cleared away, and the expected tray sat on her nightstand. Bela’s little projects truly were worth their keep. She uncovered the tray, checking the temperature with a satisfied hum. She longed for the time when the bottle wouldn’t be wholly necessary. She could almost feel it approaching, moment by moment.

Alcina set it down and peeled the covers back, unwrapping her prize.

Sometime in the night, Elena had wormed her way onto her belly in Alcina’s spot, wrapped bodily around her pillow. She clutched it tightly in her little hands, face buried into the top. The sight made something in her warm. A sudden, overwhelming urge to hold her came upon her, and Alcina seized it with both hands.

A soft, sleepy whine greeted her; an adorable noise of displeasure that made her smile grow.

“Shh, I know, dearest,” she placated, prying the pillow from her arms and reclaiming her own spot in the bed. She arranged Elena in a familiar hold, ear-to-chest, cradling her carefully. “It’s just Mommy.”

Elena grumbled unintelligibly, her eyes lidded.

Alcina rubbed the pillow creases from her cheek. “It’s late, isn’t it?”

Elena sighed softly, face tipping into the gentle touch and blinking slowly. Alcina felt the tension flee her as the drowsiness set in, settling into her hold. Truly, her youngest was easiest to handle when she was tired. For an indulgent moment, she imagined her being so calm and relaxed during the day too.

After a few moments of just holding her, Elena’s breathing began to even out again. For a moment, she entertained the idea of just letting her sleep, content in her hold. But as sweet as she was, sleep-ruffled and clingy, there were routines to be kept.

Carefully, she coaxed her awake again, weathering the expected whining and squirming. 

“Shh,” she soothed once more, snagging the bottle and touching it expectantly to her lips. “Be good and drink this for me, then you can go back to bed.”

The expected protests didn’t come, instead Elena just blinked blearily up at her and slowly opened her mouth. The initial latch was clumsy. A small dribble of milk ran from the corner of her lips. Alcina thumbed it away, smiling fondly as she adjusted her wrist and coaxed her into a better one.

It only took a short time for the tea to kick in. Elena’s body sagged bonelessly into her, little eyelashes fluttering. If she detected the new addition to her nightcap, she didn’t verbalize it. Alcina watched her fondly, chasing occasional dribbles from the corners of her mouth. She drank in sluggish and instinctive mouthfuls, caught in that adorable state of threadbare awareness. Even after the bottle ran dry, she continued to suckle at it, eyes closed.

Alcina gently tugged the bottle away, setting it aside. Elena made a soft noise low in her throat, forehead pinching.

Humming in interest, Alcina tested a thumb at her lip. When she began to mouth at it, she smiled in satisfaction. Her little one had an awful habit of putting things she shouldn’t in her mouth, gnawing on her nails and her lips near constantly. Despite her protests in her waking hours, her unburdened self was much more honest.

She pulled her hand away, reaching into her nightstand. As expected, it took no coaxing for Elena to accept the offered pacifier, sucking slowly at it. Her face smoothed out, her breathing slow and even. “How far we’ve come,” she whispered, almost reverent 

Carefully, Alcina relaxed into the pillows, adjusting the covers taut over them both.

Elena ended up with her cheek pressed into her chest, blankets tucked up to her chin. Just looking at her innocent face, utterly relaxed and comfortable with her, helped soothe her traitorous worries. Here, she could monitor the steady beating of her heart, the soft puffs of her breath against her skin.

The dosage was safe, of that she was certain, and the science was sound—but safe didn’t necessarily mean comfortable. Even defanged, the mutamycete was not wholly toothless. Alcina remembered well the stresses of her own change, after all. Though Mother Miranda’s methods then were…considerably less gentle.

She folded her arms protectively over Elena’s back, holding her tight. 

In a past long abandoned, she’d never once wanted children. It represented a frightening fate, to be married away as a housewife. In immortality, she’d never once entertained the thought. But she’d known she was destined to be a mother the first time she looked into her eldest children’s eyes, like her entire world had reoriented around them. Now, she felt the very same.

Though Elena was a long way from truly becoming one of them, she vowed that when the time came, as her mother she would see her gently through it. 

Elena blinked unsteadily, long blades of grass tickling her cheeks. 

Slowly, she sat up, scrubbing the lingering traces of sleep away from her eyes. What had she been doing? 

It didn’t seem to matter. She was content enough to sit in the field among the wildflowers, eyes fuzzy and blinking sleep away. She rubbed her nose, fighting back a sneeze. Was it finally spring? She carefully plucked up one of the wildflowers, rubbing a golden-orange petal between her fingertips. The scent was rich and deep, pleasant in a way that made her bury her nose closer, sighing softly. It reminded her of something, an itching familiarity that settled somewhere in the hollows of her chest.

It took a few long minutes to wake herself to her surroundings. A familiar meadow, a creek winding lazily through; runoff from the mountains that she knew from experience was ice-cold, even in summer. It sat near the crest of a hill that bordered her family’s farm, almost a stone’s throw from their homestead. It sat under the shadow of Castle Dimitrescu, the imposing towers of it hanging in her peripheral always. Elena set the flower down, tracing the sky over the trees and mountains and the far spires.

The sky was blue-red, darkening like a bruise around the edges. Trails of smoke billowed through the early-evening air, fires lit and dinner preparations would surely be mid-swing. She startled, surging to her feet. What had she been doing? Mamă would kill her if she was late to dinner.

She hurried out of the meadow, toeing carefully around tree roots and beckoning flower petals. The ground was uneven and slippery on the way down, wet as if it had just rained. She couldn’t understand how, when she’d woken up sun-bleached and content. But each step she took was harder, a strange cold descending around her, foreboding and terse. It felt like the moments before a snowfall. Her breath misted in the air, haggard and loud in her own ears.

She almost fell face-first into the mud, but caught herself on the farm’s back fence. Muttering a curse that would have made her father proud and her mother blanch, Elena hefted herself up. Clambering over the fence, a sheep bleated accusatorially at her as she squelched down beside it, spraying it in mud. 

It was a quick trip back through the field, the same path she’d run hundreds of times. And yet—

Elena shivered, the hair on the back of her neck raising.

She dared to glance back at the trees, feeling eyes on her. But there was nothing to be seen. Mother Miranda’s protections kept the lycans at bay, but nobody who lived within the village was fool enough to believe they strayed fully away. They waited, slavering in the shadows with hungry eyes. She jogged a little faster.

The sun sank faster than she could escape it, impossibly so; a foreboding darkness blooming, one that made her heart thud settle in her throat. It seemed to grow with each step towards the house. She ducked into the yard, then stopped short.

A cold, creeping feeling spread like ice in her very marrow.

The house that had once been warm and cozy now stood ramshackle, paint peeled and time-worn. The flower beds by the door had withered. Her father’s workshop roof had slumped, grass reclaiming cracks in the foundation. The house, her house, looked abandoned. As it had been the day she left it—

Clarity came to her, sharp and ice-cold with dread.

There was no dinner waiting.

No parents to welcome her home.

And yet she could almost smell the way it used to be; the scent of machine oil, fresh herbs, of something baking in the oven. It pulled like an invisible tether. And helpless to it, she stepped to open the door. It groaned and clanked, but creaked slowly inward.

Gingerly, she stepped over the threshold.

The floorboards shifted beneath her boots, the same ones her mamă used to tell her off for wearing inside. She’d once had to scrub the entire kitchen for traipsing mud through the house. Now, there was nobody to tell her off for the tracks she left behind. Instead, the house was quiet and still, heavy with ghosts.

Her father’s coat still hung on the hook where it had years before. She passed her hand over it, a familiar homecoming ritual; the rough fabric was comforting in its own way. Her mother’s hung next to it, untouched, the same loose thread dangling from the sleeve.

She stepped into the kitchen, past dust layered dishes and the empty jars of medicines that had long dried. The wind outside intensified with each step she took, whistling through cracks in the boards. Her own breath was loud in her ears. Each step felt like a trespass. An overwhelming sense of wrongness hung in the air. As if the entire world held its breath, waiting.

Easing into the main room, a naive and hopeful part of her expected to see her mother waiting, smiling warmly in welcome.

“A hovel. How dull.”

Elena gasped, whirling around.

“I know this face.” Golden talons grasped her jaw. A head cocked, clinical, and blue eyes pierced her very soul as her chin was jerked from side-to-side. “I recall your naming. How quickly the seeds sprout.”

“Mother Miranda—”

“Ah, but those stubborn eyes of yours, so much like your grandmother’s. You must be keeping Alcina busy.” Mother Miranda’s face was bare, allowing Elena to see the way her lip quirked. It was not a nice expression. “Not as broken as her last, not yet. But she wants you to remember it. An interesting choice. She does so love playing her games.”

Elena tried to wiggle out of the hold, but it only tightened, talons pricking the skin. “I—”

“Hush, child. There was no question”

Elena fell silent.

“Ah, but how tragic a life you’ve lived, orphaned so young. What is a child without a mother, hm?” Mother Miranda leaned in close, wings swelling like shadows behind her, creeping around them both until everything was black. “Fear not, a second chance awaits you, if you are strong enough to claim it. A life remade. And a new family to see you through it. The Black God provides you a blessing.”

“No,” she denied, trying to step back. “I don’t want—”

Hot blood oozed over golden claws, holding her still. “You have no choice in the matter. Your fate has been decided.”

Elena’s heart raced, tears of pain and confusion trickling down her cheeks.

Another hand curled around her throat, thumbing the vein, almost gentle. Shadowy feathers pulled in around them tighter, like a cocoon. In the inky blackness of it, Mother Miranda’s eyes almost seemed to glow.

“Do survive. It would be tiresome to see Alcina disappointed.” Her hand tightened, turning Elena's gasp into a gurgle. Then, absurdly, she leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Until we meet.”

Then, the hand on her throat squeezed—

Elena jolted awake, shivering.

She keened softly in her throat, a quaver in the tone like an infant’s cry. The sound startled the woman beneath her awake, blinking groggily at her wet eyelashes and the way her lips wobbled.

“My darling,” Alcina soothed, voice sleep-thick but tender. “Another bad dream?”

Elena sniffled helplessly as a hand stroked down her back. The touch was warm, chasing away some of the chills that bristled her skin. She took shelter in her arms, the power and protection in them, the promise of safety. In return, her tears were wiped away, the softness of it enough to make new ones swell. A sob built in her throat. She bit her lip harshly, choking it back.

Alcina carefully sat them up, prying the abused lip away from Elena’s teeth and rubbing it with her thumb. “None of that, sweetheart.”

Elena choked in a haggard breath, fighting weak limbs to grip at the neck of her dress, clinging on. The initial startle of the nightmare had passed, but the memory of those cold eyes and the bite of the talons was haunting. She could almost feel the snap. She sagged heavily in the hold, burying her face into her neck, where the ever-lingering scent of her mommy’s—no, of the Lady's—perfume was strongest.

A soft hum started up, a familiar tune. 

Their closeness made it more sensation than sound, each note resonating through her. It was soothing, but not quite enough to quell the way she shook. The dream was too raw, too real. The words, delivered by a woman who she’d once revered, felt almost prophetic—and that was a horrifying thought.

After a while of quiet hums and rubbing her back, the Lady seemed to realize she wasn’t going to settle down or fall back asleep. She carefully pried her away from her shoulder. “Here, now. This will help.”

Elena’s breath came out shaky, uneven, growing louder as she lost the skin-to-skin contact. The Lady seized the opportunity to nudge a familiar pacifier back between her lips. It startled her, forcing her stuttering breaths to a sudden stop. She blinked in confusion, teeth finding soft rubber.

“See?” Alcina said softly, coaxing her to suck at it, keeping her thumb on the end. “Isn’t that better?”

Her brain shut itself down, forcibly switching tracks. She squinted at her in the low light, sniffling a few times, but her jaw worked instinctively to keep it in place. Before she could decide what to do, the Lady tucked her chin back into her shoulder. A hand gently held her there, cradling her close as she rose from the bed. 

“It’s rather early,” Alcina noted, reaching to open the curtain and let the first rays of dawn into the room. She turned so Elena could peek over her shoulder, taking in the snowy mountains outside. She tugged playfully on the ragged plait of Elena’s hair. “I suppose the plight of a parent is one never quite gets enough beauty sleep, hm?”

Elena dug her teeth into the pacifier, burying her blotchy face back into her shoulder. 

Undeterred, Alcina took a smaller hand in her own, rubbing warmth back into the icy fingertips. “I think we’d best get something warm in you, my sweet. I’ve heard tell that some sugar and a story is the perfect remedy for night terrors. Let’s get you ready, then I’m sure we can find a nice book and something to satisfy that sweet tooth.”

Chapter Text

The private library was warmly lit, the lingering smell of sugar and old books in the air.

Elena was half-spilled into the Lady’s lap, an absent hand stroking her hair. The rest of her was bundled across the length of the sofa in a heavy blanket. From time to time her eyes lulled, but she fought tooth and nail to force them back open. The terror of her bad dream still lingered, the fear that she’d wake up in that empty house with Miranda’s hands on her neck.

She shivered, clutching the wolf plush in her hands like a lifeline. The Lady had pressed it into her hands, but she was grateful for it now, the softness of the fur beneath her fingertips was grounding somehow. She’d had toys as a child, but mostly handed down or handmade.

Alcina paused reading a story aloud—a tale of grand adventure and the greed of dragons—and tugged the edge of the blanket higher around her shoulders. “Still cold, my sweet?”

She buried her face into the blankets. “Mmhm.”

The Lady patted a hand over her belly, tone light and teasing. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to trick Mommy into giving you another treat?”

The sweet taste of milk and cinnamon lingered on the back of Elena’s tongue. She’d been too upset to really fight it. The Lady had easily pushed the bottle into her mouth no matter how hard she turned her head. The warm, sugary milk had sunk deep into her bones and belly. Despite her hesitation, she’d finished it eagerly. Now she was too tired and wrung out to be embarrassed at the sight of the empty bottle on the side table, tucked beside a pile of books and the discarded pacifier.

“No,” Elena mumbled in answer, voice hoarse, long cried-out.

Alcina reached out to stroke beneath a puffy eyelid, then over dried tear trails. Her touch was unfathomably gentle—so much so that Elena’s throat hurt with choked with fresh emotion, eyes ducking away and a quiet yearning she couldn’t place weighing heavy in her chest; she needed something, and all she wanted was for someone to tell her what it was.

She swallowed tightly, sniffling once again as she squeezed her toy tighter. 

“My darling,” she cooed, setting the book in her other hand down and finding the pacifier. “Would you like it?”

Elena stared at it, then back at her; uncertainty and terrifying indecision welling in her chest. It had been comforting, as reluctant as she was to admit it, and there was nobody but the Lady here who could see it 

Patient, Alcina just looked back with warm, honey-colored eyes, waiting for an answer. The hand in her hair carefully soothed her, nails occasionally scratching at her scalp. Though she could be demanding, impatient, aggressive…there was nothing but calm and kindness in her eyes.

Elena averted her gaze, but nodded slowly.

Smiling like she’d finally seen sunshine after months of rain, Alcina gently nudged the soother into her mouth. When Elena experimentally sucked at it, she looked like she wanted nothing more than to melt. Still, she kept it quiet. Affectionately, she brushed a hand over Elena’s forehead, then picked her book back up and began reading.

After the eventful wakeup, Alcina was glad to see her little one come to settle.

Her heart felt like it had grown three sizes watching Elena finally drop her walls, sucking at her pacifier comfortably and willingly. It made the early morning more than worth it. In truth, it made all of it worth it. Though she did have to prod her baby awake more than once, weathering the whining, for fear she wouldn’t go down for her afternoon nap.

By the time the morning sun streamed in earnest through the windows, she had read a handful of children’s books aloud and diffused a half-dozen minor tantrums. She closed the book as the grandfather clock chimed, hefting her drowsy youngest into her arms and carrying her to breakfast.

Alcina had grudgingly allowed her to shuck off her blankets and woolen sweater as the sun reached them, her little one overheated and overtired; an argument wisely saved. Now Elena shivered once again, seeking her warmth and nosing at her chest as she walked. It made Alcina give a rare shiver of her own—after decades as she was, her own changing body was a shock to the system, albeit a welcome one.

“Cold, darling?”

Elena shook her head mutely, pacifier still glued between her lips. She remained buried against her, curling up in a way that betrayed her. A little snuggle bug, stealing her heart and her body heat. 

Alcina kept her tucked into her chest as she stooped through the door into the dining hall, smiling at the hitched little breath of surprise against her skin. She rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, my sweet, did that scare you?”

Elena pressed her face into her chest with a little whimper.

She chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Shh, darling.”

“Rough morning, Mother?”

Alcina covered Elena’s ear, holding her still and swaying lightly with her as she turned to regard Cassandra. She ignored the fussy little sounds. Her second-eldest was the only one of her daughters at the table, chin planted on her fist and watching them both with interest. “I believe morning implies the sun had risen.”

Cassandra smirked. “A rough night then?”

“Less pleasurable than yours, it seems,” Alcina noted, observing her eyes. They burned almost orange at the pupil; the mark of too little sleep and too long spent in the cellar amongst baser impulses. “I do hope you left room for breakfast.”

“A little early celebration,” Cassandra purred, looking far too self-satisfied. “You know I always have room for more, Mother.”

Alcina shot her an unamused look. “It’s far too early for innuendo, Cassandra.”

“Oh? Does the baby not know what sex is—”

“Cassandra,” Alcina cut in sharply, warning. “There is a time and a place.”

Wisely, Cassandra subsided with a snicker. “Of course, Mother.”

Whether it was being called a baby or offense at the hand still covering her ear, Elena squirmed in her hold, obviously over her self-imposed clinginess and ready for her next tantrum. She kicked her legs and pushed at her chest, squirming to get down. Alcina held her tighter so she couldn’t fall and hurt herself, sending an exasperated look to Cassandra over her head.

“That’s not how we ask for something, Elena.”

She whined.

“Nor is that, darling. Use your words.”

Elena mumbled something unintelligible around the pacifier.

Alcina sighed, gently tugging it from her mouth. “Try again, sweetheart.”

Elena reached for it by instinct, then seemed to startle back to reality, her eyes losing their almost glazed quality. Her cheeks flushed. She buried her fists into Alcina’s dress, turning her head away. “I want to get down,” she mumbled, voice still a little hoarse. “Please, Mommy.”

Alcina leaned in to press a quick peck in return to the crown of her head. “Of course, darling.”

She caught Elena under the armpits, lowering her gently to the ground. Her little one’s knees wobbled, threatening to buckle. Alcina steadied her, ensuring Elena wouldn’t fall the moment she let go. Still, there was an unsteady sway to the way she fled a few steps away, something like a frankly adorable toddle that filled her with quiet yearning.

Elena scampered away as quick as her shaky legs could take her, heedless to her thoughts. She ducked close to the nearby fireplace, ears pink and pretending to study the painting above it. But from the side-eye, it was obvious she was just cold and likely immediately regretted leaving the warmth of Alcina’s arms—something that made the woman hide a smile.

“Will your sisters be joining us today?” Alcina asked Cassandra, moving to settle herself into her customary seat and tucking the forgotten soother into a napkin. She’d ordered a dozen, but this one felt almost fit to frame—the first one willingly engaged with, a truly special thing.

“If Daniela can hold herself together long enough to make an appearance,” Cassandra retorted with a shrug, tone blasé. She tracked each of Elena’s movements with an intensity that betrayed her, eyes sharp and watchful—protective, not predatory. Blood honed all their instincts, not just the violent ones. 

“And Bela?”

Cassandra shrugged again. “Probably dealing with the clean-up.”

Whether or not Donna would join them was a pointless question. The woman herself appeared almost between one breath and the next with nary a creak on the herringbone. In contrast, the pitter-patter of small wooden feet and a light cackle heralded the arrival of her doll companion.

Elena startled at the sight of Angie scurrying into the room. She jolted away from the fire, surging around the table in a way that could only be called fleeing, hiding in Alcina and Cassandra’s shadows.

Alcina restrained herself from making a pleased expression, lest she encourage her little one’s fears. Still, that Elena sought them when she was frightened was rewarding, a reminder of how far she’d come. It had not been so long since she’d run from them.

“Mommy,” Elena implored, tugging the sleeve of her dress.

She leaned down. “Yes, darling?”

Elena reached up in askance, like a child wanting to be picked up. It was utterly adorable. She ached for it to be genuine. But the look in Elena’s eye was too calculated.

Though Alcina was half-tempted to allow her to have her way, she knew better. Elena needed to accept her high chair as a fact of life, not something to be constantly wheedling her way out of. Though spoiling her children was often her prerogative, discipline and routine had their places too and it was best learned young.

“Silly girl,” Alcina patted her head, redirecting her to the high chair. “That’s your seat.”

The sheer shock on Elena’s face was almost enough to make her laugh, but Alcina held it in. Cassandra held no such reservation, openly snickering at her and earning a glower in turn.

Still, Elena clambered up without complaint—actually scrambling when Angie popped up into Donna’s lap at the table and clattering with excitement. Her hands slipped as she tried to turn around, the seat too high for her to simply hop into.

“Careful,” Cassandra scruffed her by her shirt, dragging her back into the seat. “It would be a shame if you brained yourself before breakfast.”

Elena caught the fabric before it cleared her belly, using her other hand to try and tug Cassandra’s hand away. “Stop!”

“Elena.”

Alcina’s sharp rebuke was enough to make Elena duck her head, hand dropping. A contrite look spread across her face. She didn’t look up when Cassandra let go, only curling her hands around the edge of the tabletop as it was locked into place and staring resolutely down, caught somewhere between a glare and the threat of another round of tears. 

Frowning, Cassandra sent a sideways look at her mother.

Alcina shook her head and offered Cassandra an apologetic look. Her little one’s emotions had been haywire all morning; far too quick to cry or lash out, yet also alarmingly docile and small. Whether it stemmed from the bad dream or progression of the intended regression, the whiplash could be rather disconcerting.

“Forgive her, Cassandra. As I said, it’s been a hard morning.”

Cassandra didn’t rise to the obvious innuendo, much to her surprise. Instead she reached out with an obviously exaggerated reluctance, turning her head away and rubbing the line of bone-white knuckles until Elena slowly let go of the table’s edge. The gloomy look didn’t flee Elena’s face, but it did ease the tension in her shoulders.

Alcina leaned slowly back in her seat, suppressing a sigh as she turned to regard her sister. “I do hope you had a better morning, Donna. Angie.”

“We did, thank you,” Donna answered softly.

Angie let out a grating giggle, ignoring the question and leaning in closer to peer at Elena. “Aw, does Donna need to whip up something special?”

Layered beneath the doll’s playful tone, the thread of genuine request was there. Despite the way they operated like separate entities, the cadou was split among Donna and her doll, intrinsically and irreversibly. All of Angie was Donna, no matter how different their outward personalities.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly, mindful of the way Elena’s head shot up, eyes darting between them suspiciously. “There’s little to fix a bad dream but time and plenty of sugar.”

Angie cackled again. “And warm milk!”

The bottle was not what she was referring to, they both knew it well.

Unfortunately, Donna and Angie’s connection also meant that the doll knew more than she should—and, unlike Donna, was remarkably more loose-lipped. Alcina did not dignify her with a response, only a glare. Though she was not so prudish, it would do no good to clue her youngest in on her intentions.

Angie just cackled again, rattling and horrible.

“Turn any whiter and people might think we have a ghost.”

Her youngest whipped her head around when Cassandra prodded her cheek, looking as if she wanted nothing more than to bite the offending finger off.

Alcina sighed, reaching for the dining bell.

Elena’s moodiness lasted two minutes into breakfast service, brightening at the sight of toasted bread slathered in jam and sugar-dusted oatmeal. She didn’t even complain about the sippy cup of water or her baby spoon, eagerly digging in. Her sweet-tooth truly was her weakness.

As for herself, Cassandra barely touched her own food, despite her earlier assurance. She’d spent the evening in the cellar, indulging in agony like fine wine; she’d more than had her fill. Instead she sipped at her own honey-laden tea, openly watching Elena as she ate with a clinical sort of interest.

Beyond the warm fuzzies of having a new sister, it came with risks. Though Daniela had been incandescent with joy at the news of next steps, Cassandra had shared Bela’s quiet anxiety. She’d stalked the cellar like a possessed creature, had carved that concern restlessly into flesh and blood until it was lost to the haze.

Now, it almost seemed for nothing.

Despite her first dosage, Elena didn’t have so much as a hair out of place. She was as pouty and snappish as usual—albeit a little smaller. It had been surprising to see the way Mother had carried her in, boneless like a baby. But there were no growths, no powers, no changes to speak of. She’d expected so much, worried, only for…nothing, frankly. 

Cassandra didn’t claim to understand the science of it, but the changing was wholly different than her own, a far cry from the failed experiments that lurked in cellars and the castle’s spires. Cassandra’s own existence was borne from the corpse of a wretched human life, a slate wiped clean, something more seeping from blood and bone. She had been born hungry, fangs bared.

Elena nibbled her toast, crumbs dusting her shirt.

She snorted. “Perhaps the bib, Mother?”

Alcina hummed thoughtfully, using a cloth napkin to scrub away a smear of jam from the corner of Elena’s mouth with a fond smile. She only smiled wider when Elena fussed, trying to lean away. “A timely reminder, thank you darling,” she held out a hand, and a maid darted forward almost immediately to present her with one.

Her little sister gave her a betrayed glare as it was fixed in place. 

Cassandra sipped her tea and smirked back—how she loved pushing her littlest sister’s buttons. 

Unfortunately, the momentary peace and exclusive freedom to annoy her was interrupted a few minutes later when the dining hall doors heaved open. Bela led Daniela in by the wrist, hand squeezing tight. Cassandra cocked her head, listening to the layered buzzing that was almost too quiet for humans to hear. She could read it as easy as breathing, the frustration-anxiety-excitement in the air and layered between wingbeats.

Daniela set her eyes upon Elena and fell apart into a haze almost instantly, until Bela reached into the swarm and had her own coax her sister’s back into shape—from the outside, looking merely as if she had reached into the cloud and pulled Daniela back out.

“Calm,” Bela coaxed. 

After a moment, Daniela had steadied herself enough that the merest glance towards Elena wouldn’t have her dissolving in excitement. Only then did she flit over to Mother, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Good morning, Mother.”

Alcina set the spoon she’d been feeding Elena with back in the bowl. She reached up to capture Daniela’s cheek, patting it affectionately in return. “Good morning, my darlings. I didn’t expect to see you both.”

“Bela wouldn’t let me come.”

Unbothered by Daniela’s whining, Bela settled in next to Donna, inclining her head in greeting. She waved away the maids that rushed to set more plates. “Dani and I had a sleepover last night,” Bela said, dry tone making it clear that it was more babysitting than anything else. 

“And you didn’t invite me?”

Bela eyed Cassandra, the ember-like glow around her pupil. “I’m sure you had more fun without us.”

Cassandra turned towards Elena instead, eyes wide and theatrically wounded. “At least you appreciate me.”

Elena paid her no mind, reaching for her forgotten spoon while Daniela told their mother a story of being held hostage by Bela—sounding something like a cross between a lecture and an impromptu book club. Without looking, Alcina snagged the bowl and held it aloft. 

Snorting at the crushed look on Elena’s face, Cassandra picked up a piece of shortbread from the saucer next to her tea cup. She palmed it nonchalantly into Elena’s hand, watching from the corner of her eye as suspicion morphed into contentment. Truly, sugar was her weakness.

“Cassandra,” Alcina chided, squeezing Daniela on the shoulder in dismissal.

She innocently sipped her tea. “Yes, Mother?”