So you finally came to see me!

@heaven-made-sister

Daniela had been wandering for days. It had been days since she had eaten properly. Days since she had touched anything but rainwater and felt anything but restless, broken sleep. Her body, which usually fixed itself quickly, was now turning on her, using up its own remaining strength to survive. The first thing Daniela felt was the cold but it was different. It was heavy, and it felt wrong. Even the flies that made up her form were sluggish, their usual energetic buzzing reduced to a weak, tired hum.

By the time she stumbled into the town, night had already swallowed the streets. She made it as far as a narrow alley before her legs finally gave out. Everything after that was a blur.

She heard Mother’s voice. She heard Bela’s laugh. She heard Cassandra shouting about something. Through the haze, Daniela clutched her small bag against her chest. Inside were the last family memoribilia she had left. And she couldn't lose them.

Something warm touched her forehead and the redhead jerked away, startled. "No.....!" Her hand shot up, not to fight, but to push the touch away. The young Dimitrescu didn't have the strength to be dangerous. Her eyes opened wide, frightened and confused. The woman looking down at her was a stranger.

Daniela curled her body around the bag, squeezing it so hard her knuckles turned white. "No…" her voice cracked. "No, no, no…" The words came out as a desperate, feverish whisper. "Please…" A weak buzzing sound escaped her as her shoulder briefly dissolved into a swarm of flies, struggling to hold its shape.

"Don't take it…" Her eyes were glassy and unfocused with exhaustion. "Don't...." Tears welled up, though she didn't seem to notice them, and she pulled the bag closer, tucking her arms tightly around it.

The day had been so busy. Things were getting back to normal surprisingly fast, considering all that had happened in the village mere miles from the town. The TerraSave team had taken one night out to celebrate a successful mission before returning home, quickly reinforcing the American stereotype of being loud and rambunctious. But they all had the good sense to up and go when the time was right, paying their tab and stumbling out onto the quiet street. Claire nearly missed shambling figure down the dark alley as she left the restaurant. Something in the woman's gait tugged at the back of her mind though, and she paused. That wasn't just a drunken stagger. A glance at the woman also quickly dismissed the idea that she had been given any other kind of....influence. Then she collapsed and Claire felt every hint of the former reverie drop. At best, the woman had been given something unsavoury. At worst...Claire shrugged off the thought as she ran down the alley and dropped to her knees next to the girl. "Hey, hey...you ok?" Even in the darkness, Claire could see this girl was in a bad way. She was deathly pale and looked like she had crawled out of a pile of ash and dirt. Still, Claire carefully turned her onto her back and started to feel for vitals. Her hand jerked back a moment when she felt the scalding fever. How long had this poor thing been walking like this? Fumbling through her pockets, Claire took out her phone to shine a light on the situation. Claire's eyes caught on the girl's eyes and teeth and her jaw dropped. At the same time, she became aware of a low buzzing sound that seemed to emanate from the girl herself. She had read reports about something like this. But...the Dimitrescu's should have all been eliminated. "Shh...hush now. I'm not gonna take anything from you." What in the hell was she going to do though? Their flights were scheduled for the next day. No one would be pleased to find their mission extended by a spontaneous Dimitrescu. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say a hospital won't do you any good. We need to get you cooled down though...Guess you're stuck with me for a bit. Just...promise not to bite, ok?" With how frail the other was, it was easy enough to hoist her up to her feet and loop an arm under hers to keep her vertical. The way back to the hotel was mercifully short and most people only gave a passing glance. The situation probably didn't look great, but it was likely the type of concern was misdirected with two women stumbling into a hotel late at night. Up in the room, Claire set the other down on the toilet while she ran a cold bath. She crouched down to get back into the line of view. "You'll need to put your bag down for a bit here...don't want it getting ruined in the bath."

The world drifted in and out around her. Voices became echoes. Light blurred into pale streaks. She remembered walking. Someone holding her upright. After that...Nothing.

The cool air of the bathroom slowly pulled Daniela back toward herself. She blinked twice. The room still swayed, but less than before, and somewhere nearby she could hear water filling the tub.

Her arms instinctively tightened around the worn satchel pressed against her chest. "No..." The protest came weakly, almost childlike.

Claire's voice reached her a moment later, telling her to put it down. Daniela lowered her eyes to the weathered leather. Her thumb absentmindedly traced the stitching along the flap. Inside were the only things she had left. Her mother's necklace, Bela's sketchbook, one of Cassandra's daggers and other small things. Little pieces of people she refused to forget.

Her fingers tightened. Then loosened very slowly. As though every inch the bag moved away from her was a betrayal. With obvious hesitation, she leaned forward and carefully placed it on the floor beside her feet. Not out of reach.

Only then did she finally look up at the woman in front of her. She frowned faintly. Confused and scared. "...Who are you?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I..." She searched Claire's face, trying to place her somewhere in memories that refused to stay still. "...Do I know you?"

The loft was quiet. Daniela pushed the front door open with her shoulder, a pair of shopping bags dangling from one arm while music blasted through her headphones.

She kicked the door shut behind her with practiced ease. "Home..." she sighed dramatically. Well... home away from home. The family's city loft.

Daniela usually stayed there after her Saturday shopping trips with friends. By the time they had wandered through every boutique, stopped for drinks, and inevitably gone out for dinner afterward, it was far too late to make the drive back to the estate. Bela would simply pick her up the following morning.

She dropped her overnight bag and shopping bags beside the sofa and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened.

Daniela frowned. "...Seriously?" She clicked it again. Still nothing. "Oh, come on..."

Rolling her eyes, she fished her phone from her pocket and immediately opened her messages.

(txt): ✨Bestie✨

Girl, can you believe this? 😭 I survive an entire day of shopping and the second I get home, the power's out. I'm suing electricity.

She hit send without another thought. A reply bubble appeared almost instantly.

(txt): LMAO. Did you try the light switch?

Daniela snorted.

(txt): You're hilarious.

Shaking her head, she kicked off her white sneakers, sending one sliding beneath the dining table while the other landed somewhere near the kitchen.

Still humming along to the song playing through her headphones, she was completely oblivious to the oppressive silence. "Watch Bela complain that I somehow blew a fuse..." the redhead muttered to herself.

She switched on her phone's flashlight and headed toward the small utility closet where she knew the breaker panel was.

The beam of light drifted idly across the hallway as she rounded the corner, never noticing the dark figure that was in the loft with her.

She was already halfway down the hall, still grumbling. "...If I have to fix this myself, I'm charging Mum for emotional damages."

She didn't know it yet.

verything would've gone according to plan if it hadn't been for Daniela's damn spirit. Alisson had known she'd be trouble. That spoiled little brat had always possessed something about her that made Alisson sick to her stomach. For a brief moment, she lost her balance. She hit the floor with a muffled grunt, but never once allowed her arm to loosen. She didn't let go of Daniela. Not even when most of the boxes came crashing down on top of her. ────── “ G-Ggh— You bitch... ” — She gasped as Daniela managed to break free. Her voice barely sounded like her own. Not because she was trying to disguise it, but because one particularly heavy box had slammed into her shin hard enough to make her see stars. But she recovered quickly. By the time Daniela stumbled like a ragdoll, Alisson had already pushed herself back to her feet. She had the audacity to let out a quiet laugh, even as blood trickled from her nose after striking the shelving unit. She was careful, though, pulling the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand, she wiped at the blood, making sure not to leave a trace of her DNA behind. ────── “ Poor thing... Did you hurt yourself? ” — She whispered, crouching down in front of the redhead. With her free hand, she grabbed a fistful of Daniela's hair and yanked.

She could see the blur in Daniela's dilated pupils. The poor girl would probably be hearing nothing but ringing for the next several minutes. ────── “ You're not going to fuck anyone up... You're going to pay for what you've done. ” — Alisson spat, raising her knee. She drove it into Daniela's face. Then again. And again. Each blow was accompanied by short, strained breaths from the sheer force she was putting behind them. She was going to knock Daniela unconscious. One way or another.

Daniela couldn't make out a single word. The attacker's lips moved. She knew they were speaking. But all she heard was a high, piercing whine.

The ringing swallowed everything else. The world felt distant, as though she were underwater.

Then came the pain. Fingers tangled violently in her hair, jerking her head upward. "Agh—!" The cry barely left her lips.

Instinct flared one last time. With trembling hands, Daniela reached up blindly, both hands wrapping around the attacker's forearm. Her nails dug desperately into the sleeve, trying to pry herself free.

She kicked weakly. Twisted, pulled. Anything.

Her vision blurred further as blood trickled into her left eye. For a fraction of a second, she thought she'd created enough space...

The first impact stole that hope. Her face slammed into a raised knee. A sickening crunch echoed inside her own skull. White exploded across her vision.

A burst of hot pain flooded her nose. She felt something give and warm blood immediately poured over her lips. "No..." She wasn't even sure if she'd spoken. The ringing only intensified. She clung to the attacker's arm anyway.

Then came another blow. Her head snapped back violently. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit down hard on her own tongue.

Another. The room lurched sideways.

Another. Her hands were growing weaker now.

Every breath came through blood and broken gasps. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't tell which way was up. She only knew she had to keep holding on.

Had to-

The sixth impact landed.

Her fingers twitched. Then slowly...they slipped from the attacker's sleeve. Her arms fell uselessly to her sides. Her legs no longer obeyed her. The only thing keeping her upright was the fist tangled in her red hair.

Daniela's head lolled forward. Blood dripped steadily from her nose onto the floor below. Another thin line escaped the corner of her mouth, staining her chin.

Her eyes remained half-open, unfocused, struggling to follow shapes that refused to stay still. The ringing was still there. Loud and endless.

She wanted to say something. To call for her mother or Bela. To ask why this was happening. Nothing came. Not a word. Not even a whimper.

Her lips parted weakly, but her body no longer seemed to belong to her.

The loft was quiet. Daniela pushed the front door open with her shoulder, a pair of shopping bags dangling from one arm while music blasted through her headphones.

She kicked the door shut behind her with practiced ease. "Home..." she sighed dramatically. Well... home away from home. The family's city loft.

Daniela usually stayed there after her Saturday shopping trips with friends. By the time they had wandered through every boutique, stopped for drinks, and inevitably gone out for dinner afterward, it was far too late to make the drive back to the estate. Bela would simply pick her up the following morning.

She dropped her overnight bag and shopping bags beside the sofa and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened.

Daniela frowned. "...Seriously?" She clicked it again. Still nothing. "Oh, come on..."

Rolling her eyes, she fished her phone from her pocket and immediately opened her messages.

(txt): ✨Bestie✨

Girl, can you believe this? 😭 I survive an entire day of shopping and the second I get home, the power's out. I'm suing electricity.

She hit send without another thought. A reply bubble appeared almost instantly.

(txt): LMAO. Did you try the light switch?

Daniela snorted.

(txt): You're hilarious.

Shaking her head, she kicked off her white sneakers, sending one sliding beneath the dining table while the other landed somewhere near the kitchen.

Still humming along to the song playing through her headphones, she was completely oblivious to the oppressive silence. "Watch Bela complain that I somehow blew a fuse..." the redhead muttered to herself.

She switched on her phone's flashlight and headed toward the small utility closet where she knew the breaker panel was.

The beam of light drifted idly across the hallway as she rounded the corner, never noticing the dark figure that was in the loft with her.

She was already halfway down the hall, still grumbling. "...If I have to fix this myself, I'm charging Mum for emotional damages."

She didn't know it yet.

Having company was the last thing Alisson had expected. The mask concealing her identity was nowhere to be seen. Tonight wasn't about killing. She had come to the loft for one reason alone: Information. Nothing more, nothing less.

But first, she needed to disable the security cameras. Compared to the Dimitrescu Estate, the place's security was laughably weak, she had noticed.

Like a viper, Alisson slithered through the building's shadows. Getting inside had been easy; keeping low and avoiding the monitored areas had done most of the work for her. Unlike the Dimitrescu Estate, this place was considerably smaller, though much newer. She didn't know the layout nearly as well.

Even so, she'd had time to explore. Pure instinct led her to the electrical panel, following the faint hum of the current. Without a second thought, she flipped the main breaker, plunging the entire loft into darkness.

For now, she only wanted to cut the power, not destroy it. After all, she didn't want to raise unnecessary suspicion too soon.

A keyboard clacked somewhere nearby, followed by the unmistakable sound of messages being exchanged. Alisson froze.

Witnesses. Exactly what she didn't need.

She had to act fast. Carefully, she peeked around the corner and spotted the family's youngest daughter.

Ah.

The spoiled brat born from rape.

Lowering herself again, Alisson blended into the room, her black clothing allowing her to disappear among the furniture as though she were just another shadow.

She did what she was best at. Hiding. She tucked herself between two shelving units that concealed her almost completely. Right then, Daniela walked in.

What an idiot. She'd taken the bait the second she'd decided restoring the electricity was a good idea.

Alisson, however, wasn't sure how she was going to get out of this. She could grab Daniela from behind and put her in a chokehold until she lost consciousness... Or stay perfectly still and risk being caught the moment the lights came back on.

She knew Daniela would probably be too distracted to reactivate the security cameras immediately. But... She wouldn't risk it.

She would choke her unconscious.

With a movement so silent it was terrifying, Alisson slipped out of her hiding place.

Poor Daniela was so distracted by her phone and headphones... She never saw it coming. In one swift motion, the killer rose onto her tiptoes and hooked an arm around Daniela's neck.

Her free hand darted forward, snatching the phone from Daniela's grasp to make sure none of this would leave any evidence behind. Then, she squeezed.

One second she was reaching toward the fuse box. The next an arm locked around her throat. Her phone was torn from her hand, skidding somewhere across the floor as one side of her headphones slipped off.

"What the—?!" Pure instinct took over. She thrashed violently, both hands grabbing at the arm crushing against her neck. Air caught in her throat as panic flooded her chest.

She tried to remember what her security guard taught her about self defense.

"If someone grabs you from behind," he'd once told her during a self-defense lesson at the estate, "don't freeze. Make space. Use your weight. Keep moving."

Daniela planted her feet. Then she drove her heel backward as hard as she could. The grip loosened only for an instant. She twisted sharply, dropping her weight instead of trying to overpower her attacker.

The sudden movement sent both of them stumbling sideways into the shelving unit. Boxes crashed to the floor. A stack of books scattered across the room.

Daniela coughed violently, dragging a ragged breath into burning lungs before throwing an elbow backward with everything she had. It connected and the arm around her neck slipped just enough.

Daniela tore herself free.

For the briefest second, relief surged through her. Then her foot caught on one of the fallen storage boxes. She stumbled forward uncontrollably.

The edge of the heavy oak coffee table caught her squarely in the hip, twisting her sideways before her forehead slammed against the corner with a dull, sickening crack.

White exploded across her vision and she collapsed hard onto the rug. For a heartbeat, she couldn't hear anything except the deafening ringing in her ears. "... Fuck..." A sharp, burning pain spread across her forehead.

Instinctively, her hand flew to the spot. When she pulled it away there was blood. A thin stream trickled down the side of her face, slipping into her eyebrow before stinging her left eye.

She blinked frantically. The blood mixed with tears already gathering in her eyes, turning the room into little more than blurred shapes and shifting shadows.

She could hear someone moving. Far too close. But she couldn't make out more than a dark silhouette through the haze.

She scrambled backward on trembling hands, smearing blood across her cheek as she tried to wipe her vision clear. It didn't help. The blood kept coming. Every blink made it worse.

"...Who the fuck are you?" she gasped, panic breaking through every word. "Y-you better leave b-before I fuck you up ..."

(long post)

In this universe, the Dimitrescu family are entirely human. Rather than ruling over Castle Dimitrescu, they reside at the prestigious Dimitrescu Estate, a grand mansion surrounded by vineyards in the hills outside Cluj-Napoca, Romania. For generations, the family has owned Dimitrescu Wines, one of the country's most respected and luxurious wineries, making them one of Romania's wealthiest and most influential families.

At the head of the family is Alcina Dimitrescu (48), the CEO of the winery and a respected figure within Romania's business world. In her youth, she was a celebrated jazz singer, performing in clubs across Romania with a commanding stage presence and a voice that became well known in the local music scene. During those years she gave birth to her first daughter, Bela, before eventually leaving music behind to inherit the Dimitrescu estate and transform the family winery into an internationally recognized luxury brand.

Her eldest daughter, Bela (24), is completing her university studies while preparing to inherit the family business, assisting Alcina with vineyard management, exports, and company affairs. Cassandra (19) has little interest in corporate life, preferring the outdoors and the estate itself, while Daniela (16) is still in school, bringing a constant dose of chaos and energy to the household.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆   𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send  ‘reverse’ for the sender and  receiver to  swap.  adjust wording as needed!

[  fever  ]  sender  presses  the  back  of  their  hand  to  receiver’s  forehead,  brows  knitting  with  quiet  concern

[  medicine  ]  sender  sets  alarms  on  their  phone  just  to  make  sure  receiver  doesn’t  miss  a  dose

[  blanket  ]  sender  layers  blankets  over  receiver,  adjusting  them  until  they’re  just  right

[  soup  ]  sender  blows  gently  on  a  spoonful  of  soup  before  offering  it  to  receiver

[  water  ]  sender  holds  the  glass  steady,  murmuring  encouragement  until  receiver  takes  a  sip

[  hair  brush  ]  sender  carefully  brushes  receiver’s  hair  back,  slow  and  soothing

[  ice  pack  ]  sender  wraps  an  ice  pack  in  a  towel  and  presses  it  gently  where  it  hurts

[  temperature  ]  sender  wakes  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  just  to  check  if  receiver’s  still  warm

[  pill  ]  sender  places  medicine  in  receiver’s  palm  and  waits  until  they  swallow  it

[  quiet  room  ]  sender  dims  the  lights  and  turns  everything  down  low  so  receiver  can  rest

[  slow  ]  sender  stays  at  receiver’s  pace,  arm  ready  in  case  they  stumble

[  bandage  ]  sender  changes  the  bandages  carefully,  apologizing  even  when  it  doesn’t  hurt

[  lap  ]  sender  lets  receiver  rest  their  head  in  their  lap  while  they  stroke  their  hair

[  night  watch  ]  sender  refuses  to  sleep  deeply,  listening  for  every  shift  or  breath

[  warm  cloth  ]  sender  presses  a  cool  cloth  to  receiver’s  neck  or  wrist

[  cough  ]  sender  rubs  slow  circles  between  receiver’s  shoulders  through  every  coughing  fit

[  carried  ]  sender  helps  receiver  move,  taking  more  weight  than  they  should  without  complaint

[  pain  ]  sender  distracts  receiver  with  quiet  stories  or  memories  until  the  pain  dulls

[  soft  voice  ]  sender  speaks  more  gently  than  usual,  like  anything  louder  might  hurt

[  held  ]  sender  sits  behind  receiver,  arms  around  them  so  they  don’t  have  to  hold  themselves  up

[  protective  ]  sender  stays  curled  close  even  after  receiver  falls  asleep

[  food   ]  sender  convinces  receiver  to  eat  “just  a  little  more”  with  a  smile

[  stay  still  ]  sender  gently  stops  receiver  from  pushing  themselves  too  hard

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

❝  hey.  i’ve  got  you.  ❞

❝  don’t  rush.  we’re  not  going  anywhere.  ❞

❝  let  me  do  it  for  you,  okay?  ❞

❝  i  know  it  hurts.  i’m  right  here.  ❞

❝  you’re  allowed  to  rest.  i  promise.  ❞

❝  just  focus  on  breathing.  i’ll  handle  the  rest.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  have  to  be  strong  right  now.  ❞

❝  tell  me  where  it  hurts.  i’ll  be  careful.  ❞

❝  i’m  not  leaving  until  you  feel  better.  ❞

❝  i’ll  stay  up  with  you  if  i  need  to.  ❞

❝  it’s  okay  to  lean  on  me.  ❞

❝  shh…  you’re  safe.  ❞

❝  i’ve  got  time.  all  of  it’s  yours.  ❞

❝  you  don’t  have  to  say  thank  you.  ❞

❝  let  me  take  care  of  you.  ❞ 

❝  you’re  doing  really  well.  ❞

❝  i’m  right  here.  breathe  with  me.  ❞

❝  don’t  apologize.  this  is  what  i’m  here  for.  ❞

❝  rest.  i’ll  wake  you  if  you  need  anything.  ❞

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠: (𝘅) | @dani-dimitrescu

Now that caught Cassandra’s attention. The maid writing about Bela in her diary? Oh, that did sound interesting. Although… Did the little mouse even have a diary to write in?

Cassandra tilted her head like a predator in the middle of a hunt.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “And do you think she has a diary? ”」ㅤㅤ────── She asked. Her flies began to buzz more agitatedly, some of them even crashing into each other out of Cassandra’s sheer sadism: if the maid truly was in love with Bela, she was most likely suffering.

And other people’s suffering was something the middle sister enjoyed very much.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “Yes, yes… Exhausting. ”」ㅤㅤ────── She muttered, making a dismissive gesture with her right hand.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “Maybe, Daniela, we should get to work. We wouldn’t want them to have a hard time now, would we? ”」ㅤㅤ────── She added after a brief pause.

Truthfully, Cassandra wasn’t agreeing with her sister for her sake, but out of interest.

Perhaps she could sink her teeth into someone sooner or later. And although Bela was terribly protective, the idea of having a personal blood bag didn’t excite Cassandra as much as it did others.

"I don't know for certain if the little mouse actually keeps a diary," she admitted, her tone sharpening with a sudden, predatory curiosity. "But we could easily find out." Daniela tilted her head, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling as she began to paint a masterpiece of obsession. "Oh, can you imagine?" Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "What if it's full of Bela? All the dirty little secrets…."

EVIL DEAD SENTENCE STARTERS

Clenched hands soon unfurl ever so slowly at her daughter's reassurance. How she wishes to unleash her WRATH on everything AND everyone within the walls of her property. Yet . . . what good would it do to have bodies littered throughout the castle and destroyed furniture that is awfully DIFFICULT to get for her size? The girl is right: perhaps tomorrow will bring better.

Her expression softened as she glanced up into Alcina’s face. "I don't like it when you're angry, Mamă," she admitted. The words were quiet, unusually so for her, and carried a rare, unfiltered honesty.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Daniela reached out and hooked her fingers around one of her mother's gloved hands. "When you're angry, the whole castle walks on eggshells. Everyone gets nervous." She squeezed gently. "...Including me." It was a confession she would rather choke on than admit to anyone else, let alone her sisters.

Seeking comfort, she rested her head lightly against Alcina's arm. "I like it better when you're laughing. Or when you're reading to me." A wicked little smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Or when you're telling Cassandra she's wrong. That's always fun."

For a long moment, Daniela simply stayed there, soaking in the quiet closeness. Then, with a soft buzzing of her flies, she pulled away. "I know what you need, Mamă." She crossed the room to the ornate side table where a bottle of her mother's favorite wine sat.

Before the Duke could even respond, she was already moving, rising in a fluid motion and buzzing off with a burst of restless energy.

She was gone only a moment.

Then, with a rush of air, she was back, reappearing just as suddenly as she had left, a worn wooden box clutched in her hands. It landed with a solid thunk on the table before him. "There," she announced brightly, pushing the lid open.

Inside was a chaotic little hoard. Coins of different sizes and colors, clearly foreign. Old keys of all shapes. A handful of odd electronic devices, their purpose unclear to her; they had once made funny sounds, but now nothing. Plain rings. And nestled among them, a few watches, sleek and far finer than the rest, though she seemed entirely unaware of their true value.

Daniela leaned over it, utterly pleased with herself. "My collection of boring shiny and not-so-shiny things," the redhead hummed as she dug into the box, clearly not done showing it off.

"Oh, here," she said, picking up two coins. "There are quite a few of these, actually. Gold and silver… it says ‘2 Euro,’" she read aloud, the word Euro rolling curiously off her tongue. She set the coins face-up on the table.

"This one says España… so I think it’s from Spain," she added, sounding oddly pleased with herself. Then she rotated the second coin, reading the engraving carefully. "Liberté… Égalité… Fraternité," she recited in fluent French. "French… obviously." The youngest Daughter glanced up at the Duke with a grin. "I’ve been finding more and more of these over the years… in the bags of outsiders," she continued. "Not just these—smaller ones too."

She shrugged lightly. "Ah, well. They’re not that interesting, and I have no use for them… You can have everything in here," the youngest Dimitrescu said, as if it were nothing at all. "It’s just taking up space in my room anyway."

The Duke’s enthusiasm was infectious; he handled her jumble of discarded trinkets with such reverence that he might as well have been cataloging royal treasure.

"You really like them?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could catch it.

Her gaze drifted to the coin nestled in his palm, then back to the cluttered box between them. For years, she had tossed those fragments into the chest, hoarding them simply because they caught the light or felt like ghosts of a story she couldn’t quite name. She had thought herself merely eccentric; apparently, she had been a collector all along.

The realization drew a laugh from her. "I knew keeping them was a good idea."

The youngest Dimitrescu settled her chin in her hand, content to watch him. She found she cared little for the coins’ worth or the provenance of the watches; it was the sheer, boyish focus in his eyes that held her captive.

When he finally proposed his arrangement, the spark in her gaze turned into a blaze.

"Oh, now that is a wonderful idea." She didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, thrusting her hand across the table toward him.

"Deal!"

The word was a pact, spoken without a flicker of doubt. Her grin deepened, sharp and delighted. "I bring you all the strange, shiny things I scavenge, and you bring me books and whatever else catches your eye."

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠: (𝘅) | @dani-dimitrescu

Of course it was unusual for Bela to fall in love, and it was even more unusual for her to genuinely fall in love with a maid. The opportunity was tempting, but Cassandra's intelligence went beyond a simple desire to make things work. Besides, what if they only made things worse? Bela would wring their necks. And not only that — what if Bela's chambermaid ended up in the dungeons?

One thing was clear: Cassandra didn't care. But Bela did. And that was what truly stopped her from doing something reckless.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “ Daniela. ” 」ㅤㅤ────── Cassandra warned. Her little sister was already beginning to get carried away by her imagination.

The middle sister sighed, disheartened by the fact that Daniela seemed incapable of understanding that they couldn't meddle in matters that didn't concern them.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “ Fine, then. We'll just watch. ” 」ㅤㅤ─────── She replied. After all, the brunette found herself unable to give a firm no to those golden eyes sparkling with excitement. Of course, she would never admit it, but she loved her little sister far too much to be that cruel to her.

ㅤ「ㅤ𓆦 ↝ “ What else have you seen? Hmm? Has Bela sunk her teeth into her yet? ” 」ㅤ

Tilting her head, a small, knowing smile crept onto her face. "No, no... it’s worse." Or, in Daniela’s mind, far better. The redhead clasped her hands together, radiating a confidence entirely unearned by someone who had clearly invented her entire understanding of romance.

"They’re in the yearning stage," she declared. "Saw the little mouse followimg Bela everywhere, and Bela pretended not to notice." A pause for dramatic effect. "But Bela notices everything."

Daniela hummed, seemingly lost in her own narrative. "And the human gets nervous around her. Not scared nervous." She waved a hand dismissively. "The other kind. The romantic kind."

Her golden eyes sparkled with mischief. "I bet they spend all day obsessing over each other. Bela probably stares out the window all day, looking positively tragic. And the chambermaid? She’s definitely writing about her in a diary. Terrible poetry, no doubt." She seemed genuinely delighted by the prospect.

"Cassandra, what if they’re suffering? What if they want to confess, but they’re both too afraid?" Daniela pressed a hand to her chest, her expression shifting to one of sudden, startling seriousness. "What if every time they look at each other, they’re just... overwhelmed?"

She paused, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. "...Actually, that sounds exhausting."

The frown vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a dreamy, far-off gaze. "But romantic. They’ll probably run away together." She paused, considering. "Or die tragically." Her face lit up. "Maybe both."

Without a sound, Daniela drifted between the shelves of the library until she found her target comfortably settled on a chaise lounge. A grin spread across her face.

Two hands suddenly slipped over Alisson's eyes. "Guess who." Daniela didn't wait for an answer. She never did.

Instead, she leaned forward slightly, trying to peek around at the book. "What are you reading?" Curiosity immediately overtook whatever surprise she'd been planning. "Is it interesting?" She released her eyes, only to lean over the back of the chaise lounge, staring openly at the pages.

Then Daniela simply decided personal space was optional. The youngest Dimitrescu slipped around the chaise and dropped down beside Alisson, far too close for most people's comfort. Their shoulders nearly touched. "What happened so far?" The redhead was already looking at the book again. "Did somebody kiss?"

That was all. The explanation made perfect sense to her...well, mostly. Personal space still seemed like a bizarre concept to her, but Alisson had told her the truth and Daniela valued that above all else.

A small, genuine smile returned. "Okay!"

And then Daniela actually scooted away. Not much but enough so that their shoulders were no longer touching. "Now you have your personal space." she said, looking oddly pleased with herself.

Her attention shifted, as it always did, her nose wrinkling slightly. "And stop calling me Lady Daniela. And don't call me ma'am, either. You can just call me Daniela. You're practically family now." She said it with the casual finality of someone stating that the sun would rise in the morning, clearly delighted by the logic.

Then, her eyes narrowed in sudden, sharp suspicion. "Absolutely not," she retorted, preempting an excuse. "You cannot be lazy about books." The youngest Dimitrescu pointed a dramatic finger at Carmilla. "If Bela found out you skipped half of her favorite book, she would make that face."

Daniela shuddered, then took a breath and contorted her features. She dropped her jaw slightly, lowered her eyelids into a heavy, leaden stare, and pressed her lips into a thin line of profound, silent sorrow. It was a perfect, exaggerated impression of a disappointed older sister.

She held the tragic expression for a beat before letting it melt back into her usual playful grin.

"That one," she emphasized, tapping the cover. "The one where she doesn't yell because she's too disappointed to exist in the same room as you. It's a fate worse than death."