The lady treats you different from the other servants.
At least, that's what everyone else tries to tell you. They claim she's more lenient and less tempered when it comes to you. But you never really listen when they say such things. They seem silly to you, preposterous, and with how hard you try to remain perfect for the lady you didn't have time to think about something so unlikely.
Since the day you arrived at Castle Dimitrescu and became a servant you ensured you maintained perfection and obedience for the family. You heard plenty of those who displeased them never being seen again when you still lived in the village and then you saw it first hand during your work. The smallest mistakes could lead to life altering injuries or worse... you never want to know what's in the cellar.
It isn't until an incident at dinner that you contemplate what your fellow servants have been saying. That you realize.
You've been jumpy the entire day, taunted and haunted by the lady's daughters as they threaten to maim you from the safety of the shadows, cackles echoing off the walls when you show any kind of fear. You're shaking. No matter how hard you try to hide it, you know it's very visible. But you still have a job to do. Until you're dismissed from duty you have to make sure the lady and her daughters want for nothing.
But Daniela's voice lingers in your mind. And every time you shake it out, Bela's takes it's place. Or Cassandra's. You know they want nothing more than to tear you in two. You don't know why they haven't yet. Well, actually you might, according to them it's because their mother plans to do it first.
According to them, the lady plans to dispose of you.
The stew in the bowl you hold sloshes against the sides of the glass as you shiver and make your way to the lady's side to serve her dinner. Your throat is tight and your heart racing. Every step feels like you're getting closer to death. You can feel the three girls' eyes on you as they chuckle low at your state.
You've always been easy to work up. Stress isn't something you handle well in any case. Even the smallest things can set your nerves on edge but you could say the thought of your life ending was much bigger.
When you're at the lady's side you actually think you can get through it. That you'll serve her food and step back in line with the other servants and everything will be okay.
Until Bela decides she's bored of simply watching your suppressed fear. She waits until she knows that her mother isn't paying attention and lurches in your direction, but just enough for you to see and flinch away. You choke on air and the bowl tumbles from your fingers, splashing the hot stew across the lady's lap as well as yourself before the bowl shatters against the hard floor.
A servant gasps from the other side of the room.
It feels as if your heart stops dead in your chest. You can't breathe, you can't hear, the blood flowing through your body turns to ice. The lady is out of her seat in a second, grabbing for something to dry her slowly staining dress but all you can pay attention to is the glass.
You drop to your knees quickly, breath finally returning to your lungs in panic, and start grabbing at the pieces. Your vision blurs with tears at the realization of what you've done. Now she's surely planning to kill you.
A large piece of the glass slices across the palm of your hand and you hold in the cry, forcing it back down, hoping to not anger the lady anymore than you already have with pathetic sounds. Blood rushes to the surface and drips onto the fragments as you continue to gather them into the bottom of your shirt. Stew and blood mix on the floor.
The lady's voice cuts through the ringing in your ears but you only hear her. You don't listen to what she says.
She looks to her daughters, "girls, privacy."
In unison they respond, "Yes mother."
Then she looks to the servants against the way who are watching you with widened eyes, "You three as well."
"Yes my lady."
Alcina can hear your heavy breathing as you scramble on the floor and the scent of your blood is strong. She sees the red substance leaking from your wounded hand. She grabs the back of her chair and lifts it to set it aside and out of her way to get to you, it squeaks slightly as the wood grates against the floor.
The sound sets you off, forcing you back into the world where she's preparing to rip you to shreds, she's moving the chair so it's easier to grab you, your mouth and body move before you brain can.
Your head snaps up, tears streaming over your cheeks, eyes frantic with fear, "Please my lady! It was an accident! I'll- I'll clean it all up and I'll never do it again! I promise! Promise!"
She says nothing at first in response to your begging. She's used to the sound of pitiful pleas but they've never come from you. And she liked it that way. The way you look now, the terror that swims in your eyes, the trembling of your body, it's all something she doesn't want to witness. Sure, a bit of fear here and there was fun. Cute even.
But your despair is so genuine.
"Do-don't!" You choke on your words, "Please don't send me to the cellar! I don't want to die!"
Alcina's lips part with a surprised breath. You sound so sure of yourself. So positive that death was awaiting you. She leans over, moving carefully to sit on her knees in front of you, completely ignoring the fact that she's getting her dress dirty.
"Hush now," she orders softly, her larger hand gathering your bleeding one, cold skin sending shivers up your arm, "Is that what all of this quivering and weeping is about?"
When your only response is a sob, Alcina continues, "You think I'm going to send you down there? Some spilt stew is not cause for such punishment."
You know she's lying. You've seen servants sent for much less. So why is she pretending it's different with you. And why is she holding your hand and kneeling in front of you, towering above your form and looking down with some emotion besides the rage you were positive was swarming in her?
"Aren't you?" your voice comes out so small, so confused.
Alcina doesn't answer, she only brushes the glass from your shirt back to the floor and says, "Come. Let someone else clean this mess. You're injured."
She tugs you forward until you're flush against her torso, your cheek pressed to the exposed skin of her breasts, and she stands. You aren't sure if it's because you're flustered or frightened at what she's doing but you restrain yourself from moving. Your heart pounds wildly in your ears as you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the way she feels under you. She carries you from the dining hall, ordering the servants waiting on the other side to clean what you'd caused, and you can tell by the path she takes that she's heading to her room.
You've been there plenty of times before but something about this one seems so different.
Alcina sits you on the edge of her massive bed where she examines your sliced hand with hunger in her eyes. You know what her wine is made of. A shiver rakes up your spine. It's only then do you start to feel the sting of the actual wound. Before, you were too focused on cleaning, fixing everything in hopes of being spared the lady's anger, but now, the pain resonates in your muscles. It's bleeding enough that you wonder if you'll have a scar.
You let out a wince when Alcina squeezes your hand.
Her eyes barely flicker to yours before bouncing back to the blood, "fragile, you humans are."
Heart stuttering, you gulp and feel your lips twitching into a sheepish smile. Her actions were so odd. So out of place from how you knew your lady to act. She doesn't treat her servants this way. Ever.
The lady ponders your expression. She likes this one much more than your frightened one. She raises your hand toward her face, careful to not wrench your arm too far and hurt you. Your only realize what's happening when her lips make contact with your palm. And you completely shut down at the action. She's gentle, almost frighteningly so, as she runs her tongue over the crimson, gathering it all up in her mouth and swallowing with a content hum.
Heat rushes to your face, painting your cheeks and nose in a fiery blush that you can't even be mad about, Alcina hears what sounds like a hummingbird fluttering its wings violently in your chest, "M-my lady!"
She leans away, "I simply cannot let it go to waste now can I? Am I not to indulge in the slightest?"
When she licks her lips you think she has to be messing with you, working you up on purpose, this is her playing with her food, it must be. You watch the deep red disappear with a swipe of her tongue leaving only her lipstick, still perfect and pristine. She looks so beautiful.
"So rich and delectable," she comments following with a sigh of disappointment, "Ah but I cannot allow your wound to go unattended."
She's still holding your arm up as she gathers something from her bedside cabinet. It's some kind of old bandage, clearly unused considering the lady never needed such things, and a bottle of fluid you recognize as first aid. You can't speak. You can only watch her dab a cotton ball with the liquid, clean your cut, and wrap it up tightly.
"You wish to say something?"
You tense when you catch her eyes locked to you. She must be able to read your expression. Your confusion. Your loss.
Nodding, you ask, "Permission to speak, my lady."
"You may."
"Wh-" you suck in a painful breath trying to steady the dangerous beating of your fragile heart, "why haven't you punished me? For ruining your dinner and your- your glassware and-" you gasp when you remember, "and your dress!"
"You seem uneasy. Have the girls been picking on you today?"
You want to be surprised that she noticed your discomfort but it's always easy to tell. Even a stranger would see it.
It definitely isn't your place to lie to her. Besides, you don't see what it could possibly get you. You nod slowly, a bit of embarrassment filling your chest.
"Do tell."
Her voice doesn't sound angry. If anything, she seems caring. Like she genuinely wishes to know what had you so shaken. But of course, why would she care?
"They told me that," voice cracking, you force yourself to continue, "that you were going to get rid of me. Throw me in the cellar t-to die. I don't want to be sent away my lady, I can be obedient, I can-"
She shushes your sudden pleas, recognizing that you're getting yourself worked up again. Just like in the dining room. You're so frightened, truly believing that she wishes to throw you out.
"They are but mere taunts from children," she finishes tying off your bandage and your hand falls to meet your other in your lap, hers moves to touch your cheek, "I do not plan to send you anywhere."
"B-but-"
"No buts."
"Why are you being so kind to me?"
"Do you wish me to be cruel?"
"No, no!" you counter quickly, "It's just..."
Alcina cocks her head to the side with a small smile quirking at the corner of her lips. She finds you amusing. Even more, you somehow are oblivious to the way she feels about you. To the liking she harbors for only you. She's heard the servants whispering about it before so surely they've told you. You must not listen.
"I am just a servant. I am nothing special, my lady," your breath hitches when she curls a finger under your chin.
"Well now that is just not true," she chuckles, "You are very special to me. Such a darling."
You look like a shy lamb beneath her towering form. So small with widened eyes and parted lips. Your heart has yet to stop racing. Would it stop dead if she kept teasing you? Would you cease to function with enough prodding?
At first you completely want to deny her words. Argue that you are nothing more than a worker in her castle that could be replaced at any time. But the way she looks down at you. The way her eyes inspect your expression, her fingers trace your jaw and down your neck, sharp nails not daring to press too hard.
She's being serious.
You really should listen to your fellow servants more. Because it's undeniable.
Alcina smirks as she feels your pulse quicken under her fingertips.
The lady does treat you different from the others.
