#twiyc

You were almost asleep, the waterfall sounds never failed to calm your soul, the distant symphony nature conceived you always following you throughout the day. Your stay at the Beneviento's state has been satisfactorily peaceful, your routine consisted of watching over Miss Beneviento and Miss Angie, administrate the house and cook for them; although you heard many legends and myths about the veiled woman, they all proved themselves wrong, Donna Beneviento was not a merciless sickening creature and Angie is not a disturbing – well, that's up to debate – maniac doll. They were kind, lovely, graceful, even. Energetic and serene, enthusiastic and gentle, intense yet lethargic; yes, those were Donna and Angie, opposites — The sun and the moon.

“Human! Donna requires your assistance!”

Ah, speaking of energetic. Angie hops through the garden to meet you sitting on a pile of soft snow, facing the waterfall, pleasantly starting the day.

“Donna needs someone to help with the fabric! Hey, are you hearing me?!” The doll pokes your right arm repeatedly, forcefully drawing your attention to her – if she had eyebrows, you can be certain they'd be very frowned now.

“Ah, yes, Miss Angie, I'm hearing you! I apologize for not responding at first” You support your hand on your thigh as you stand up, patting away any flakes on your work pants.

“Hm! I shall forgive you this time, human. But I won't have mercy next time!” It's the fourth time she says this. You play along, bowing to her as if she's the queen of the castle; her hands go to her hips, eyes closed, taking in the adoration you give her, silly little doll, if she only knew how she brightens up your day with only a few simple mannerisms.

You enter the house accompanied by Angie, the cozy ambiance greets you on a warm hug, contrasting the cold weather outside; the fireplace burns leisurely, the dancing flames sounds creating a piece of background music for this lovely morning. There's a certain smell in the air... Ah, chamomile tea and fresh chocolate and cinnamon cake, Donna's favorites – she must be in a good mood today – although you weren't expecting your lady to be baking, you were not going to complain, either.

“I thought you needed help with sewing, Miss Beneviento?” In a jump, she turns around, she must've not heard you coming in;

She lets out a long hum, probably calculating her next words “I did... Not... I apologize.”

You give her a reassuring smile and say there was no problem; the moment you were about to make your way out of the kitchen, a quiet 'Wait!' that was barely said out loud filled the air. “Perhaps... You would want to have some tea?”

The veiled woman sounded hesitant, yet full of determination... And honestly, how could you ever say no? Not just because the cake looks delicious, but because you know Donna made all this effort for you – she would never eat a whole cake by herself, she barely bakes anything since you came around... and did she ask Angie to come up with an excuse for you to get inside? – So it would not only be rude but also be very inconsiderate of you to refuse her request.

“I'd love to,” You say without hesitation.

All of the tension on the woman's shoulders went away, a relieved sigh left her lips as she settles the tea kettle on the table along with delicate ceramic cups – they were beautiful, elegant blue roses were painted along with the whole structure, a true artist's work – Oh, the cake looks divine, you cut a small piece for yourself, getting a small grunt of disapproval from Donna, who puts a larger piece on your plate - you return the favor, cutting a big piece for her as well - you both chuckle, it was moments like this that made you grateful for having her in your life. A lovely company, a thoughtful friend... You cherish each other, you know your place in her heart, and she knows hers in yours as well.

“Are you having a tea party without me?! The nerve!!” Angie stomps her way to the kitchen table, climbing on her high chair and facing you both on – what you believe is – disbelief;

“Oh please, Angie,” your lady says in a breathy response. She has lifted her veil to eat now, even though you've been here for several months and have seen Donna's face multiple times, you understand what her veil means to her and never once asked her to take it off; she's wearing it today because she's nervous – that explains the tea – Today the lords are having a meeting called by Mother Miranda herself to discuss 'village business'... You've been around long enough to know what they talk about in there; Beneviento never feels much thrilled to meet with her 'siblings'... And from what she says, you wouldn't be either! Imagine a 9'6 feet tall lady yelling at the robot man while a fish guy wants to participate in everything... You wonder what Miranda was thinking when she got them.

“Hey!! I'm talking!” The doll snapped you out of your thoughts about the soon event, making Donna giggle at your confused 'huh?'; she even finished her piece of cake already, for how long have they let you drift away?

“My apologies, I was quite distracted” Donna frowns her eyebrows for a microsecond, but decides not to say anything.

“Y’know, Donna was thinking of visiting the big lady this weekend” – Miss Angie rests her little chin on her hands, facing you.

“Oh, that's nice of you, I'm sure the girls are missing you two” You answer without putting much thought to it, as you take the fork with cake to your mouth.

Angie sighs comically loud, what made you look at her with a questioning look “Are you that dumb?? Donna is asking ya to come with us! Gosh!” ...Oh.

Oh

Donna wants you to go? That's– That's new. You're just a maid, you don't belong in the family visits... But now Donna is asking you to go. You feel your cheeks grow rosier as you almost choke on your fork – how embarrassing – “Ah, of course I will accompany you! Thank you for being kind enough to allow me to go, Donna”

She smiles, and that's when you smiled too, a peek of her face is all you need to go through your busy week - her serene expressions, the sweet sound of the giggles you steal from her, the way her nose scrunches when she's concentrated - you could spend the whole day listing every bit of her you wish you could frame and save from time's merciless tricks, but for now, her smile is all you want to focus on.

“Please, you're family.” The woman sounded so certain of what she just said, her voice was so filled with love you could almost grab it and keep it in your heart. You're family... that's how important you are to her now. Things are changing.

A few hours go by, the weather is significantly warmer outside, but still cold; the sky is bright grey, little snowflakes descending to meet the fresh layer of snow on the ground. Donna is putting on her veil and adjusting her doll's dress, the meeting will start soon; Lord Heisenberg will pick the girls up, take them there and bring them home safely, in return, you will go to his factory once a week to deliver some desserts and sweets and do him some company — he's a funny man... You worry about him sometimes, but he's not that bad, after all.

“Please take care, put on more clothes, and have the rest of the tea” Donna's left hand touches your shoulder while her right arm holds Angie close to her chest; you are all by the door, you're holding it open for them.

“Don’t worry my Lady, I will take care.” You give her a courtesy bow, receiving a light giggle as a response – the doll rolls her eyes and kicks her feet frenetically, telling Donna off for taking so long to get in Heisenberg's exquisite carriage. You wave at the man from afar, who lowers his hat a bit, his nice way of greeting you. The metal horses neigh and take off, the wagon disappearing into the horizon.

xxx

Angie's excited rambling saturates the once calm atmosphere of the house, Karl just dropped them off, coming to the door with them.

“Here they are, kid, no scratches.” He puts a cigar on his mouth and looks into the house through his dark glasses, taking in the ambiance.

“Why, thank you, Lord Heisenberg – ”

“Tsk. Cut the ‘Lord’ shit, just call me Karl.” He interrupted you, although he sounded annoyed, you knew he was befriending you “You’re basically family, no? We all know how Donna cares for you – honestly, it's annoying.”

“I- I’m sorry, what did you mean by that?” The man laughs at your rosy cheeks and stutters, waving his hand, he takes a drag of the cigar, walking to his carriage “I’ll be waiting for cookies, girl”.

You wave back, closing the door and looking at the living room, where your ladies are making themselves comfortable.

“You won't believe what happened today!! The bird lady gave us a baby!”

“Oh– Oh no, Angie– Miranda gave us a flask to take care of..”

“A baby!”

“...A flask”

“A baby in the flask!” – Donna sighs in defeat, rubbing her temples. Angie points to a square yellow flask on top of a ceramic counter, there's a label on it, you come closer to read it.. ‘Legs’.

...Legs? It can’t be actual – Oh, you're starting to feel sick. “Um... Donna...?'' You hesitantly look at the woman, who sighs heavily and lifts her veil, her expression says it all; her eyebrows frowned upwards, lips sealed and her eyes have a disappointed tint to it. She slowly nods, her gaze going from you to ‘Mother Miranda's gift’.

“I understand if you want me to put it away in the basement.” She's willing to do it for you? No, she's your lady, you should do it.

“I suppose I should–” Once again you are interrupted, this time by the eager doll, who jumps in your arms with the flask on her hands – When did she get it? How did you not see her? – “I hope Ethan won’t try to take it back!” Your head tilts to the side, a silent question to both of the girls.

“Ahem... Ethan is... Rose's father... And Rose is, well...” – Oh, heavens. – “Mother captured him and Heisenberg made him go through a ..‘death maze’..” Donna's fingers go up and down on a quotation mark sign.

“But he ran away!!” — A dense silence fell onto the room, the atmosphere suddenly grew uncomfortable, at least for you.

“Are you alrighty?” Angie turns to face you, her eyes traveling your whole face, your expression is blank now; what the hell was going on? This is all too much to take in at once.

“Is he dangerous?” That was the only thing you managed to say among so many questions you wanted to ask Donna.

“Well... He did escape Heisenberg's plan...” Then he is, that's what she's saying.

“How long ago was that?”

“The escape? two hours or so! We stayed there with Heisenberg trying to find out what he did wrong, dumb metal man...” You hum, your semblance should look horribly tense, because the next thing you remember was Donna's hand being so lightly placed on your left arm as if you were a shattered porcelain doll about to break with any rougher contact.

“Miss Angie, would you mind giving us a moment to speak in private?” – You lower the doll and take the flask from her hands.

“Ya know Donna and I are connected, right?” The smaller girl was quickly taken out of the room by her master — and you swear you heard a quiet ‘shoo, shoo’. The lady of the house now stands in front of you, a concerned look on her face, matching yours.

“Miss Donna, I'm worried about this whole situation... Maybe we should be careful. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I am afraid I do...” She looked nervous, her fingers fidgeting and interlocking with themselves; there's silence for a long moment, both of you meticulously measuring your next words, surprisingly, Donna is the first to speak; with a heavy sigh, she stands up straighter.

“If anything happens, you must go to the castle, please.”

“But my lady—”

“Alcina will know what to do, that man won't get past her state, her girls are probably hunting him now – if they haven't found him already. Still, if something happens to me or Angie, you know who to ask for help, okay?” — You nod — “Promise me, please.”

“...I promise.”

How you were going to regret this later.

She shyly smiles with the corners of her mouth as you take her hands in yours, your way of saying ‘everything will be alright’. The woman opened her mouth to say something, but her words died in the air, her sudden frozen reaction sent chills down your spine – what's happening? – she looks straight at the door, her semblance growing more and more despairing.

“Miss Beneviento?”

...

“My lady?”

...

“Donna?!”

Her gaze hesitantly made its way from the door and fell upon you, her hands are slightly shaking – is she starting to hyperventilate? – she tried to speak, but not even a whisper was heard. After a few tries, her shaky and breathy voice met your ears – “He’s here.”

You are petrified, the grip your hands have on hers grows tighter, what does she mean, he's here? He can't be here. That would mean getting past House Dimitrescu and the only way someone could do that is by k—

Oh no...

You can tell that is exactly what Donna is thinking about as tears threaten to fall from her glossy eyes. Lady Dimitrescu can't be... dead... can she? What about her daughters? Oh, poor things...

“You must go.” Your lady's voice got your attention again, her trembling tone barely allowing her to properly speak, so she led you by the hand to a room with aid kits and hand-made medicines; she handed you a bag containing some of it and pointed to the door.

...Is... Is this how she is going to send you off?... Not even a ‘goodbye’, or a handshake, at the very least? Your eyebrows frown and your lips part open, you hold the bag against your chest closer to you. “...My lady..?” Now your voice is trembling as well. She avoids your gaze, standing firmly at the same spot.

She calls Angie, who floats towards you, pushing you through the house to the front door. “I’m sorry, but ya promised.”

She and the other dolls corner you at the door, your back meeting the hardwood board; you can hear your heart shattering as you're being so abruptly banished from the house.

“You can't even say something?! After all we've been through? Is this really how you want to send me away?!... Please, Donna.”

After overlong minutes of deafening silence and a torturing lack of response, you see a now veiled figure stand in front of you, a few meters away; her hands are by her sides, fidgeting with her dress' cloth, her head hangs low, her gaze meeting the floor.

“I didn't know how to...” she murmured.

You feel warm tears wet your eyes as you walk confident steps toward the woman you care so much for – you leave the carrier on the floor – your arms are wide open, embracing her as you bury your face in the crook of her neck; some seconds pass by before her own hands go up to your back and grab your clothes — she's crying on your shoulder and she's soaking it, but you don't care because you're also damping her dress. What felt like an eternity as you were hugging went by too fast, you gradually drift away from each other's embrace, slowly picking up the bag and snuffling, you know you can't stay there; if there's any chance of Donna surviving this, it depends on you.

You hug Angie one last time, the other dolls gather around you and their little arms do their best trying to hold you too, how you loved Donna's marvelous inventions. They all follow you to the back door – where you would try not to cross paths with Ethan – You grab the bag tight, you're leaving.

“I will come back.” You smile as a reassurance, hesitantly going through the door and closing it, you breathe in sharply – can't stop now.

Donna watches you say your last words to her and smiles morosely, waving at the closed-door – “Please don't...”

You were almost crossing the bridge to leave Beneviento's state, everything was going fine, the man didn't seem to show up... Maybe Donna was just mistaken and everything is alright.

— But like a shot, Angie's maniac laughter gets to your ears and smashes any kind of hope you had of Ethan ignoring their house. You hold yourself, Angie's threats can be heard from here; you know Donna won't be able to hold him for much longer, you must be faster.

xxxx

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

You're here. You're finally here. But what the hell happened here?

The chilly air makes your lips tremble a bit, your arms instantly hugging yourself; walking here was no easy task, but that's none of your concern anymore. You go through one of the castle's demolished walls, you look up, there's a hole in the roof and the levels above, just beneath it there's a... carcass of God knows what, although it looks like a rotting dragon. — Oh God, did it kill Lady Dimitrescu?.. Or perhaps she killed it?

You keep marching carefully yet hurriedly; you find the doors open and the handles smeared with blood, feeling apprehensiveness tightening your chest, you make your way inside of the castle. You look around and process the ambiance, the unexpected warm atmosphere of the house falls upon you like a blanket, but the comfortable feeling disappears the moment you see blood splashed all over the walls, corpses of lycans and monsters ripen in half and splayed on the floor... A crimson path marks its way through the rooms, and maybe you should follow it.

“Lady Dimitrescu?”

As you follow the sanguine liquid trail, you spot a huge stiff figure laying on the floor, covered in wounds and painted scarlet red. You rush to help her, not even certain if she was still alive.

“My lady!”

She grunts, a surprisingly low growl leaves her lips as she sits up, holding onto a cloth around her body for dear life, you walk closer to her slowly and steadily, but her cry of pain as she holds a wound on her side makes you run to her – how it pains you to see someone like this. Yet, you take quick steps back and almost freeze in place when she unleashes her terrorizing long and sharp claws, why is she doing this? You're trying to help, and she needs it.

You bring your hand to your chest, not because you're afraid, but because you feel your heart beating so fast it might explode. – “Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

“Out.”

Her voice was like a rumble of thunder and it reverberated through your whole body, giving you goosebumps; for a moment, all you could do was obey and step away, your gaze still fixated on her, but something clicked in your mind — you made a promise.

You can see a clear change in the woman's expression as you stand your ground.

“Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

You can't go, even though you truly want to, you want to go back to your Misses, you want to run away from this woman who might behead you any instant, you want to leave; all this flashes in your mind as you look at the big main doors. You grab the clothes on your chest with an absurd strength, come on, you need to be brave now. You sigh, Donna has no idea of the impact she has on your life.

“Allow me to help.” You try to sound certain, but the thought of Donna and Angie invades your mind and brings you to the verge of tears again.

Feet taking more steps closer to the Lady, you can't look at her, not like this, almost crying, that'd be pathetic.

Although it seemed impossible, her nails grew longer and her eyes were intensely trying to burn holes in your head, she is indeed terrifying, but you must not fear her now, you trust Donna, she said Alcina would help. You move your arms to the front of your body as a peace sign, you don't want to cause any harm. Still, she shows her teeth and looks at you with a feral cast, like a beast ready to devour its prey. You gulp, just a few more steps and—

An unhesitating metal swing sound cuts through the air; you scream, you shout at the top of your lungs as you feel her cold claws rip your face and throw you away with much force. Hot blood squirts and spills from your face and chest — you can't make a noise anymore, your lips are parted, mouth open, searching for the air you suddenly don't have anymore, your hands go to your face, trying to figure out either to press your wounds or hide it from the woman. You spend some more moments in anguish, trying to find your voice, but not even a whisper would make its way out; you were struggling to open your left eye, it hurts so much, everything hurts, burns, aches — pain washes over you and adrenaline runs fast in your veins. A raspy and agonizing scream builds up in your chest and leaves your throat way louder than you expected, getting the Lady's attention. Good.

Stupid loyalty, foolish attachment, cursed be all the fondness in your heart that is making you do this. You need to do this, don't forget why you're here. Your shaky hands reach for your bag, pulling out a flask of treatment disinfectant, you assemble your last strengths to crawl your way to her and kneel up, stretching the hand with the flask out; you can't stay like this for long, your body is giving up on you – the moment she takes the medicine, you collapse right in front of her, not even caring about being safe or not.

xxxx

It's dark. Cold. Unbelievably silent. You’re alone now, only you and the abandoned hopes that still wander above your head, both yours and hers — speaking of her, where is Lady Dimitrescu? You need her help. but as it seems, you must aid her first — You breathe stiffly and out of tempo, your clothes and hair are drenched, and your face has a bit of crust on it, probably dry blood.

Elbows up first, then shoulders, push your back up and now you’re on your hands and knees, still facing the floor; it all still hurts, your body aches from being so brutally tossed at the floor. You can’t move nor feel your face — not much of a good sign — Your left eye is locked shut, God knows what will happen if you try to open it. Your vision is blurry and dark, as if it’s dirty, which makes sense if you consider all the blood in your face; you cannot see well and… Perhaps, your left eye might go blind... — let’s pray it doesn’t turn that way.

From a pool of blood underneath you, there's your reflected image, you make some effort to see the damage that woman did to you: three big claw marks cuts through your face, one striked your lips, cutting up at a point you can see part of your gum, the other is right in the center, it striked the bridge of your nose and your left eye, and the last one got the side of your forehead and a bit of your hairline. Well… Let’s focus on the not so bad things for now.— At least your body and hair are fairly fine.

A small drop that hits the pool’s liquid and creates small scarlet waves makes you notice you have been crying during this whole process, tears washing over your wounds and making them sting, only to find their way into the crimson beneath you. You take your time at this position, everything is so quiet, so peaceful, the wind and the birds chirping try to fill in the devastating mourning and obscure silence of the castle — they don’t succeed.

… Now, thinking about it, you don’t want to keep facing your — shattered and ruined — reflection, so you heavily exchange your weight to your legs, sitting on your knees.

Air escapes your lungs for a millisecond as your gaze meets the lady of the house — was she watching you the entire time? How did you not notice her? Heard her? — She’s standing away from you, almost hiding in the shadows; at some point of your unconsciousness, she must have gone to her chambers since she got rid of those bloody sheets that wrapped her and is now wearing a proper robe that cascades to the floor.

Neither of you dares to break eye contact — an unspoken dialogue — Alcina has a dreadful look on her eyes as if she’ll murder you right this instant; now that you realize, she’s clean, although her hand still presses the injury on her side, it must be a severe one, as she looks healed from all the others. You decide to stand on your feet, your shaky legs not collaborating; your body is still limp, your joints hurt and there’s this constant pain in your lungs as you breathe, however, you keep your gaze locked with hers. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, she abruptly interrupted you.

“I shall give you one chance. Who are you and what are you doing at my house?”

Her words were like a knife and her tone was a flame burning you alive, her frowned eyebrows and threatening eyes sent shivers down your body — that or the excruciating wintry breeze that kisses your injuries — you are petrified in place. You gulp, your mouth opens and closes multiple times, but nothing comes out, nothing but only a whisper: “Donna...”

Her eyes squint and her lips form a pout, she walks closer to you, bending her torso so she meets your face.

“You know Donna Beneviento?” — You nod twice.

A hum leaves her throat but she doesn’t look any less suspicious of you, she grabs the sides of your face, carefully enough to not open your wounds any further, and brings you closer to her by lifting you at a point your feet barely touch the floor — how little effort it took an injured woman to do this, well, not any woman, she’s Lady Dimitrescu. Who is about to behead you if you don’t decide to speak — Yet, she stops and stares deep into your soul, a command: proceed.

“I-I was sent by Lady Beneviento” You stutter so much you need to take a deep breath before continuing. “She needs help, Ethan is—”

“Ethan?”

“Yes, Ethan Winters, he found them and n—” She suddenly drops you, the thud of your body hitting the ground makes you gasp for a second, you couldn't even hold yourself up. She stands straighter now, her expression is cold and serious as she looks forward — what is she wondering about? Will she help you? She takes her time staring at the horizon, time enough for you to slowly pick yourself up, limps slightly trembling.

A heavy and low sigh fills the air as she closes her eyes, arms hanging on her sides, as her golden gaze meets you again, you almost frown your eyebrows seeing how unexpectedly her expression changed. She was so revengeful and ferocious a few moments ago, now she looks… fatigued — shattered, if you will — . The woman unhurriedly walks out of the room, leaving you without a proper response. Will she help? Will she not? Good lord, all this tension even made you forget the pain you find yourself in. Perhaps the medicines you brought will do better for yourself than for her. You bury your hand inside of your bag and pull out some pills and flasks for your injuries, following Alcina right away, clumsily sprinting to match her quick pace.

“Lady Dimitrescu! Wait, please!”

——————

heeyyaa I actually posted chapter 2!! yk the drill, if you read it till here, thank you and I love you!! please like and/or reblog if you want me to post the next chapter!!

Still walking, you reach inside your bag and pull out a flask, the same type you gave the lady before everything went blank. What did she do with that one, after all? Well, those are questions for later.

You can feel your face growing swollen and more irritated, it’s better to treat these injuries as fast as you can. Taking off the lid of the flask, it makes a ‘pop’ sound — something as small as that was able to resonate through the long corridors, because of the quietness that had settled in.

You instinctively hold your breath as you shut your right eye firmly and press your lips together — this is most certainly not the best way to treat your cuts, but you don’t want them to infect for now — Turning your hand abruptly, you pour the liquid on your face.

It burns, burns terribly, it feels like thousands of needles mercilessly piercing through your skin, your own tears mix with the medicine, you bite the inside of your cheeks in order not to shout.

Once the flask is empty, you let out a pained whimper, eyebrows knitted together, eyes still closed.

Steading your breathing, you notice the lady hadn’t looked back a single time — after all, why would she?

“Lady Dimitrescu!” — you can’t avoid a throaty voice as you breathe heavily — “Please! They need help before it's too late!”

She stops and turns her body so suddenly that your brain couldn’t quite process what happened, unfortunately neither could your reflexes; you gracelessly bump on her hips and fall back, hurting your backside by the collision with the floor.

“Don’t be so foolish, girl. Her fate is already set.” She responds.

Your lips part as you exhale slowly, eye shot up to meet the countess’ face — she looks annoyed, ferocious, cold — A tender, almost freezing breeze meets you, swinging a few locks of hair across our face, some of them sticking to your still damp wounds.

How could she say this?

How does she not show any regret of what she just declared? Your gaze is terribly frozen on the woman’s, almost threatening her to say it again.

Donna is part of her family, has she no heart?

The question almost answers itself when she simply turns around and walks once again. You are stunned, dismayed, offended, even.

Staring at the spot she was a few seconds ago, you shake your head hesitantly. No, she can’t be right, she can’t even be sure of what she said.

She doesn’t know Donna, she’s powerful, she can handle an ordinary man — can’t she?

No, Lady Dimitrescu is terribly mistaken, she’s just troubled by her daughters’ loss and doesn’t want to fight for her sister.

No, Donna’s fate is not settled.

“No.” You end up vocalizing your current mantra, but the countess ahead of you doesn’t seem to care.

Clumsily, you pick yourself up, eye still locked on the lady as if she’s your target; she’s far away now, almost turning another corridor to completely disappear from your sight.

You hold your bag closer to you and project your body forward; it still hurts, the bruises, the cuts — they ache, but it can’t stop you now, you run as fast as your feet take you.

Her figure grows bigger as you reach her, you feel the older woman’s eyes follow you as you make your way to her front, blocking her path.

Oh, my, you did it. You’re impeding Lady Dimitrescu’s way — yet, you haven’t really thought of her reaction, no?

“Move, child.”— Her nose scrunches and her surprisingly scary sharp teeth are now on display; her piercing gaze might burn you alive, here and now.

“Lady, please, you must help!”

“Move.”

The lady is taken aback by your silly act — You have opened both of your arms, stretching them out as far as you can, intending to interdictate the corridor. The shock on her face mixes into anger in the blink of an eye, her pale self becomes almost rosy as her expression frowns in annoyance, your legs tremble when her golden eyes stare at you so explicitly, so fiercely, so deadly.

She steps forward, her enormous shadow engulfing you in darkness, even when there is plenty of light behind you. You flinch back unexpectedly, your head turning to the side abruptly for a quick second, a not so discreet attempt on protecting your face; still, you stand your ground, composing yourself with a few deep breaths.

Perhaps she didn’t expect you to show this much determination, her response was a menacing growl, if you were closer to her, it’d be possible to feel her chest rumbling due to her low tone. The woman seems to ponder for a while, could she be planning on what to do now? — on what to do to you?

Your arm muscles are growing tired of being sustained in that position, you hope she’s decided on how to act. Her expression gradually loses its aggressiveness, yet her semblance is still painted somber, she’s focused — too focused. What will she do?

Trying not to drift away from logical sense was a vain attempt, the countess’ sudden stride forward found you unprepared; your legs’ strength holding on by a thread, they shook so eagerly you’re afraid she might hear your bones trembling.

You flex your jaw fiercely in anticipation, you feel danger poisoning your oxigen, your feet are begging to run, hands are willing to fight; but you’re no super-human, being able escape Lady Dimitrescu is a blessing that not many conquered, and fighting her sounds like a joke, the only alternative your brain comes up with as the woman raises her hand at your direction is to hide.

Panic and adrenaline flood your veins as you move faster than you ever did in your life, you bend your knees and face the floor, your whole body going down while your hands desperately cover your face.

Risking your life once again is something you’re not willing to do, nor having more parts of your body slashed. Like a feral wave, fear overtook your mind and you cannot move a limb, you're not able to open your eyes and understand the current situation, you’re paralyzed, knees glued to your chest, face completely hidden under your own palms — you don’t even breathe, your throat aches, not allowing saliva or air to travel down; your lungs feel like they’re being compressed.

Saying your mind is blank would be a horrendous euphemism, it feels like an explosion, a complete turmoil; fragmented memories from earlier flood your brain: the metallic sounds of her claws, the cold yet burning sensation, the blood bursting into the air and streaming down your neck and chest, the sudden darkness, then a horrid, agonizing scream you still don’t believe was yours. It all flashed before your eyes in a matter of seconds — you don’t want it to happen again.

No, no—

–It can’t happen again. Please.

You’re spiraling, the last sentence rounding your head again and again, almost like a hypnosis.

The surroundings are deadly silent now, except for the tumult inside yourself; your hands tremble against your face, your whole body shudders, your vision is completely unfocused — most likely blurry — The sudden sound of steps approaching caused your whole figure to tense up, you don't look up or turn your head to the noise's direction. You're firmly in position, afraid to move; too much of a coward to run, not insane enough to fight.

The lady kneels, trying to stay at your eye-level – somehow, it helps dissipate some tension of the situation. A pale hand travels across your personal space leisurely, reaching for the medicinal flask beside you that must've fallen from your bag as you bent down.

Your mind isn't quite in place yet, your surroundings feel disconnected from reality — yours, at least — The sound of your short breaths are the only thing grounding you to your own consciousness at this moment.

A shadow created above you made you aware she got closer; gradually, you convince yourself to look at her — your eye hesitantly glances up — From behind your fingers, little can be seen, but it’s reassuring to feel the safety of being hidden under your own palms. The woman doesn’t seem as ireful as before, in fact, she looks rather calm; maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but her eyes look glossy, there’s an melancolic shine on them.

Her free hand comes to you, an invite to be helped; your gaze linger on it for a while, seeing something that harmed you offering help creates a strange feeling in your stomach.

Perhaps you should take it — but, there is no certainty she won’t hurt you again.

You shouldn’t trust her, not after what she did to you. Yet you find yourself by her feet, begging for help over and over again — a bit humiliating — And still, she refuses to help.

Then why is she offering help now?

It doesn’t make sense.

Your gaze meets her face, as if wanting to make sure her expression hasn’t changed; and in fact it did not, she keeps the tranquil, cordial, almost comforting semblance. Further doubts gradually dissipate as you stare into her suddenly friendly golden eyes; your hands come down unhurriedly, you take your time to leave your defensive stance, never breaking eye contact. You reach out to her – comically large – hand, you touch it so timidly you barely feel her skin. You’re scared of coming closer to her — rightfully so — but she’s the only option left now.

She rises to her full height again, holding your hand and leading you to stand on your feet as well; the woman avoids looking directly at you now that you’re uncovered, it puts you at ease for a quick second. Her eyes fall on your bag, her hand reaches to it slowly, as if allowing you to stop her any moment — you let it be, your brain can’t even comprehend correctly what is happening yet.

She pulls out a white piece of cloth, your gaze locks on it; the way she damps the cloth in the medicine, how she inspects your face, the subtle frown on her forehead, her concentrated look — you follow it all.

Her hand travels to your face, touching it with the cloth, ever so slightly patting here and there; initially, it feels numb, barely a tingling sensation, you blink slowly, your senses leisurely coming back to you. Now it burns, every touch — as delicate as it can be — stings; you hiss, shutting your eye and knitting your eyebrows together — that seemed to bother the lady, who pouted at any time you’d contract your face in pain. She kept focused on her work, often sighing as she’d examine her progress

Once she’s done, she tilts her head from one side to another, satisfied with her effort. Something falls on your hands that were curled up to your chest, you look down; it’s an empty flask and the piece of cloth she just used, the white fabric is now stained with red and maroon shades, both blood and dirt, seeing this certainly makes you grateful for her cleaning your wounds.

“Are you able to bandage your damaged eye by yourself?”

Right. Your eye.

You had forgotten about it, now you realize that it’s still locked shut. The thought of going blind sends shivers down your spine — but that’s probably what will happen, regardless of how well you care for your injury. You gulp, your throat suddenly feels excruciatingly dry.

A sigh escapes the Countess’ lip as she's drowning in her own thoughts; you figure it's better to wait for her to come back to the surface on her own.

And she does; She blinks twice, a subtle smile that once floated over her lips was now completely crushed as her gaze falls on you once again, her cold composure taking over.

“I’m… Not certain...” You chose to be honest.

“Listen, child; I will assist you now, and then you’ll leave this place and leave me alone. Do you understand?”

Her words crawled up your skin, making you regain all your senses in a matter of seconds – You're not leaving this place without help. You can't.

“My lady! With all due respect, I'm still in need of an answer!” — You say fiercely, looking fearlessly into her golden eyes. — “Miss Beneviento is in great danger, you're our– her last hope.”

You hope she doesn't pick up on your slip at the last sentence; but she looks too annoyed to even notice it.

She closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath; you notice her fists closing tightly for a second.

“I want you to have a good look at this house and I, girl.” She stands up straighter, her voice gaining power as she speaks. “Are you delusional enough to believe your lady still lives?”

“Delusional?” You repeat weakly, her statement pushing your hopes down.

“Indeed. Delusional.” She reinforces.

“I… Rather call it hope…” You look down, almost embarrassed of saying that out loud. Hands instantly going to the straps of your bag, your fingers play with it — something you always noticed Donna doing when stressed.

“Are you able to bandage your damaged eye by yourself?” The Lady circles back to the question.

Hesitantly, you nod, refusing to meet her gaze still. An exasperated sigh makes you shut your eyes; the Countess clutches your bag in a fluid motion, her movements are quick yet graceful, as if she isn’t risking you panicking again. However, her efforts can’t keep your heart from beating faster and your grip becoming stronger as you walk towards her; sweat trails down your forehead and nape, causing you to shiver subtly.

You try your best to hold yourself still while she works on your eye, delicate fingers covering your injury with gauzes and tapes, it’s honestly disconcerting how skilled she is at this. When she seems to be done, her feet take a few steps back, her eyes roaming around the bandage, analyzing her own work — it seems to have pleased her — With a nod, she proceeds:

“I suppose you're aware you must keep this over your eye for a few weeks?”

The soft feeling of the bandage against your fingertips as you touch it makes you relax for a brief moment; you nod, watching as she mutters a ‘good’ and turns around, her heels clicking once again as she makes her way to another corridor.

Your lips part and your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to formulate a sentence — anything.

“Lady Dimitrescu” — You manage to whisper; she stops and you take a deep breath. — “... Thank you.”

She clicks her tongue and keeps walking, you hope it didn’t irritate her.

The corridors fall silent shortly after the lady locks her chamber’s door, your hands touch your chest, perhaps seeking for comfort. Although still feeling bewildered by what just happened, you can’t just stand here — can’t forget Donna — Picking up your bag, you slowly walk through the halls, looking for the main gates, planning to leave.

Since Lady Dimitrescu has made it crystal clear that she will not help, you’ll go back there by yourself.

Awful idea, thinking about it.

Yet, your mistress is waiting for you, she needs you to save her, she expects you to — And where are you? In castle Dimitrescu, having your injuries aided by the lady. You contort your face in disgust at the thought, you’re not worth Donna’s attention, nor time, even less love.

Your feet move again, the sound of your marching echoes through the big rooms, making your presence known to no one in particular.

∞∞∞∞∞∞

A silver shining flashing through your face captures your attention; you turn your head to its direction – it's coming from inside of a room, its door unlocked.

Slowly, you push the door open, the lights of the corridor meet the objects inside, causing light to reflect back at you.

It's an armory room.

Your eyes look around hurriedly, breath hitching on your throat. You find yourself surrounded by all kinds of weapons – knives, daggers, swords, spears, a few fire guns, even.

There's three weapons missing, by the frame of their hanging places, you assume those were sickles; you wonder if the daughters left the door open when getting armed — Thinking of them makes the air seem heavier, you still can't believe they're not here anymore — A melancholic sigh leaves your lips, you make your way into the room, hands curiously touching a few of the objects.

‘They could be useful..’ You think; going back to the Beneviento manner unarmed would be quite imprudent, taking in consideration the major threat in there now – Ethan.

Some dust floats around your figure as you pull a few weapons and test their weight and grip — some of them seem to be abandoned and dirty, but they’ll do — You shove a dagger into your bag, in case you need it.

Your eyes roam the gun in the wall, analyzing its state; despite having some dust, it worked just fine, no broken pieces — The ammo was just beside it, almost pleading to be used.

You load it, the clicking sounds reverberating loudly in that closed room.

The gun is securely settled over your shoulder as you cross the strap over your chest.

The sound of determined footsteps mix with the rustling of the metals inside your bag, your expression holds braveness on it — or would it be stupidity?

Whatever it is, reassures you as the main gates meet your sight. One final breath before opening the doors to the cold, merciless reality awaiting you.

A freezing breeze embraces you, the familiar sting sensation spreading across your face as you squint your eyes, taking in the brightness difference; even though the sun shines vividly over the garden, the snow refuses to melt, showing its superiority by covering the horizon with a frost white blanket.

The footprints mark your way through the woods; the sound of lycans in the distance were able to ruin nature’s sweet symphony, some birds flutter away from the trees in fear, causing some leaves to fall on your head — you fan them off abruptly.

As the path seems quieter, your heart beats fast — the sudden silence couldn’t mean something good, could it?

Perhaps you’re just stressed, it’s understandable.

You take in a deep breath, exhaling slowly while closing your eyes for less than a second; your hands hold the gun you have positioned in front of you, slightly trembling.

Looking forward once again, you stop.

Hands shaking, your feet take a step back.

You bite your lip, it’s better not to shout — There’s a lycan standing a few meters away from you.

The shaky breath that escaped your lips has made the beast’s head turn in your direction.

You’re ready to run when it takes a step forward; heart racing, sweat trailing down your spine, you swallow, what to do now? — The gun crossed over your chest seemed like your savior, your ultimate hope; the only chance of making it out alive.

You may have never wielded a weapon before, but it can’t be hard, right?

Slowly… Carefully, you arm yourself, pointing the gun at the monster in front of you.

You hope that, for any reason, it'll leave and avoid combat, but that doesn't seem like a possibility the moment it sprints at you.

It's sprinting at you?!

You run away without a second thought, gun still glued to your hands; you breathe through your mouth and your lungs burn by the cold air entering them.

The sounds of frenetic footsteps behind you make it obvious you're being hunted – It will take only a few seconds till the monster gets to you.

Looking back was an awful choice – a mouth full of sharp teeth and ferocious hands try to reach you; the growls coming from the lycan are close to get the attention of the others.

A sob escapes your throat, you didn't realize you were crying.

The sob becomes a shriek the moment you feel claws against your back, bringing you down.

Snow hits your face and coldly burns your wounds. The lycan itself fell a few meters away, due to the collision; you waste no time in attempting to get up. Unfortunately, you're only able to sit up – legs trembling too much to go any far.

The creature stands on its feet, growling at you — this brings you flashbacks: the castle, the lady, the claws; but this time, you can defend yourself — Desperately, you look around and grab your gun.

Aim. you need to aim. – that's hard, your hand is shaking like a leaf. Damn it, focus!

‘Just breathe’, you mentally repeat Donna's words, following the orders.

Your finger positions itself on the trigger;

Just breathe.

You hold the weapon closer to you, targeting the lycan;

Just breathe.

When it moves, you hold your breath —

— And shoot.

The agonizing, broken screech that left the creature's mouth sent shivers down your spine, the muffled sound of its body falling to the ground brought a strange silence upon the ambiance.

You watch the lycan for a few seconds, occasionally shooting once again when it twitches – you know, just to be sure.

After a few minutes, you eventually get up; giving the corpse a last glance, you walk back to your path. Your mind is still shocked, your hands insist on shaking, your eyes hold no emotion as you stare at the cold horizon in front of you. — You're slowly going numb, you can feel it.

You feel your brain leaving this reality as you remember everything that happened in the last hours.

The sounds of your boots marching through the snow and the lazy rustle of the trees wake you up from your lethargic hypnosis; your feet had been walking for Mother Miranda knows how long — And, apparently, they knew exactly where to go.

You look up; here you are, home —

— The Beneviento Manor.

————

thank you for reading! like and reblog if you'd like to see more of the fic; seriously, it means a lot to me<3

•

Your head spun as your feet led you to your chambers — Silent, disconcerting, distressing. — The soothing howl of the wind hitting the curtains gave the atmosphere a poetic touch, yet the serene breeze that found its way to your bare skin came from the broken windows, erasing any poetry that the situation could have; or perhaps only giving it a twisted meaning... The air that comforts the ambiance is the same that shattered your children.

The thump of your footsteps contrasted the quietude of the corridors, you can’t help but frown your eyebrows at this strange feeling: The silence.

The quietness, the tranquility, it made you feel bad, physically and mentally.

Perhaps you were so disoriented you didn’t notice your chamber’s door until you opened it, the handle making a screeching noise — Heavens, you always forget to repair that — You blink twice before going inside the room, your unfocused vision slowly taking in the place.

Closing the door behind you, you make your way into the room, undressing yourself from the bloody sheets and, although that’s very unlady-like, you leave them on the floor; there’s only one thing in your mind now, amidst everything that happened, cleaning yourself and sinking into the tub is all you can think about. Not that woman you left bleeding, not your daughters, not Ethan — Lord have mercy, you may just explode if they cross your mind one more time — You know they’re always in your subconscious, waiting for a breach to flood your thoughts, so you might as well try to keep them afar… Only for now, as you need to ponder.

The sound of the water filling the tub builds a background noise to gather your thoughts; you're sitting beside the extraordinarily big bathtub, fidgeting with the towel's fabric on your lap.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and reverberates through the soundless room; stretching your arm, your hand reaches for a bottle of lavender scented lotion, but it stops in the air, slowly retreating; something about taking a bath with the luxury of lotions and oils just feels excruciatingly wrong now – almost disrespectful.

You gasp as a wet feeling meets your feet — the bathtub overflowed — standing and leaving the towel on the small chair you were sitting, you rush to close the tap, taking short breaths. Good lord, for how long have your mind drifted away? You face the floor and close your eyes, rubbing them – you must collect yourself now, Alcina.

An unexpected raspy whimper left your mouth as soon as the water met your injuries, washing the depths of your soul. Eyes closed shut, breath hitching in your chest, you sit on the bottom of the tub, resting your back on its inner side; you allow your head to fall back, making your body sink deeper and relax in the warm water.

For quite a long while, you stare at the ceiling, focusing only on healing your wounds – speaking of that, a bottle of sanguis virginis would be of good assistance now. – You had human blood a few days ago, you should be able to recover from these lesions; well, maybe not the one on your side which still stings and aches, but from the others, certainly.

As you close your eyes, you can't recall for how long you rested; have you slept? or perhaps tiredness overcame you for a brief second that felt like hours? It matters not, since your bruises and bullet injuries clearly got better. This stressful situation is getting on your nerves, you can’t even grieve in peace? What is it with people invading your house, for Miranda’s sake?

… Ah...

There they are, the damned thoughts getting you again; no matter how hard you push them down, they always pull you with them into the depths of hell.

By all means, as your head is full again, might as well make it work.

First concern: The woman in your castle. You left her bleeding on the floor of the main room — Poor thing, couldn’t even have the privilege of death taking away her pain — She came in practically begging to help you, and even after being threatened and hurt, she chose to use her last strengths to succor you.

What were you thinking? — Nothing, you weren’t thinking. You allowed anger and sorrow to blind you from logic and not for a single moment you considered the scenario you were in. An unfortunate girl desperately trying to aid and assist you, and in return you slash her young face and bathe in her blood. Such deplorable behavior.

Although, on your own defense, you did warn her to stay away — what went through her mind that was idiotic or insane enough to make her walk to someone twice as big as her with deadly claws?

That’s a genuine question — What went through her mind? What was her determination?

Perhaps it’s only the stress getting to your mind, but you suddenly feel a bit suspicious of that woman.

The water around you is now a dark shade of scarlet, the smallest of the waves hitting your body as they dance around, capturing your attention for a brief moment.

Gradually, you grow tired of being there, the ambiance starting to make you feel sick — But realistically, which place here does not make you feel bad now? — You stand, droplets cascading down your figure and back into the water. Stepping out and drying yourself, your mind wanders again, what shall you do about that girl now?

Once dry and dressed, you head back to your… ‘situation’, although you took longer than expected when trying to bandage the wound on your left side, doing it by yourself was more difficult than you thought.

She should be in the same place you left her, you don’t expect her to be awake for now nor have sufficient strength to run away. As you cross your castle, the steadiness of her heartbeats meet your ears, slow… quiet… imperceptive heartbeats, but not for you; you hear them loud and clear.

Then you see her, body splayed out on the floor, facing down — she’s waking up — Her limp body pushes itself up, her breathing is short and out of tempo, but at least she’s breathing.

She’s on all fours, gaze locked on the floor– Well, not quite on the floor, but on the pool of blood beneath her, perhaps she’s realizing what you’ve done to her. You were about to speak your mind, but a single droplet sound was able to stop you, she was crying, crying a lot; you never cared when people did it, but this time she isn’t making a single noise, nor has she realized her own tears — how deep in her thoughts could she be? Has she even noticed your presence?

Your last question answers itself by the look on her face when she sits up and meets your figure — the shock, the way she lost her air for a brief second — Her expression changed as fast as lighting, her eyebrows shot up and she went pale, she hadn't realized you were there this whole time. The woman’s eye travel around your body and hesitate at your hand holding your injury, your own eyebrows frown at that; yet now her gaze locked with yours, your golden look pierces through her soul as she tries to stand — her legs shake, her arms desperately search for balance by swinging around, you can feel the pain on her expression; she opens her mouth, but you cannot give her the first word here.

“I shall give you one chance, who are you and what are you doing at my house?” Your tone left your chest a bit louder than expected, and it seemed to startle the maiden, who is completely paralyzed, opening her mouth in vain as nothing is coming out. You almost sigh in disappointment, but a shaky breath makes its way through the air.

“Donna...”

Have you heard that correctly?

Could she mean Donna Beneviento, the doll maker — and a village lord — ? That’s not possible. Out of all the lords, she is the least possible one to have a companion like that, her manor is occupied only by her dolls and–

Her maiden.

Could this be the maiden she speaks so passionately about?

Your eyes squint and your eyebrows frown on a questioning look, your lips press themselves together on a pout as you take firm steps towards the smaller woman; you have to bend your torso to be somehow at her eye-level.

“You know Donna Beneviento?” – She's unhesitant to answer, nodding twice.

So she could be the maiden Donna speaks about from time to time. That's an interesting turn. Your big hand closes itself around her face, carefully not to damage her even more, you lift her a few centimeters from the ground, bringing your own face closer to her. A good intimidating act has always proven to be helpful when it comes to getting answers, no? – You stare deep into her eyes, silently telling her to proceed.

“I-I was sent by Lady Beneviento!” — She stutters three times before breathing deeply.

— “She needs help! Ethan is–”

“Ethan?”

Her next words are like a cloud, your brain not processing them right – not processing anything right – You lose the grip on your hand, causing the woman to fall. That thing, he got to her, he will kill– No, he already did it. That man-thing got to Donna and Angie, right when things couldn't get worse.

Your expression goes blank for a moment, a gasp almost leaves your lips, but you swallow it before it meets the air. You couldn't protect them, and now you couldn't spare her. You now stare forward, fighting back ridiculous tears threatening to wet your eyes. Your eyebrows frown on a rageful semblance, your lips press themselves together in utter disgust and anger, your fists are locked close, knuckles going white because of how strongly you're closing your hand, your nails digging deep into your palm — You are going to slaughter that man, if it's the last thing you do.

But before saying or doing anything, it's appropriate to remember you were never a family. Mother Miranda merely used you all for experiments of her own twisted interests; yet… Yet, Donna was a gentle, kind person. You took her as a sister – as a daughter, if you will – and cared for her, perhaps not in the best way you could… Yes, you were quite rude sometimes, but the appreciation you held for her was… Realer than that family could ever be.

Now she's gone as well.

You hope she meets your daughters in the afterlife, if it even exists. — your hands leisurely open again, your gaze taking in the horizon with a different look — You hope that, at least now, she finds peace. The one she deserves.

A heavy sigh parts your lips, you close your eyes, not allowing tears to fall; the feeling is stronger than ever now: the grief. It never left, but now it came back twice as strong, like a hostile wave at the sea, it rises upon you and takes you, turning everything upside down. You want to lay down, isolate.

You glance at the maid one last time and make your way out of the room; you observed how her semblance grew more and more worried as you were lost in your thoughts.

The fact that she still follows you even when hurt makes you want to throw her at a wall to test if she will stop.

You hear the 'pop' of a bottle opening and a strong scent of alcohol and medicinal herbs, then the pouring of a liquid and for last, the quiet whimper of someone in great pain.

You don't look back, you don't mind giving her an answer, you don't care about her injuries anymore. You need to be alone.

“Lady Dimitrescu!” — she pants — “Please! They need help before it's too late!”

Ah… Before it's too late. As if they were still breathing at this point.

You abruptly stop and turn your body halfway around, causing the woman's body to bump against your side and fall to the ground clumsily.

“Don’t be so foolish, girl. Her fate is already set.” Is all you say before walking again.

Cold, that's how your words left your lips, freezing poison leaking from your mouth and killing the woman’s hopes in one single bite. She stares at the great nothing, shocked from what you just said, she doesn’t even get up.

“No.” — You don’t look back nor stop walking, if she wants to dive into denial then let her be.

The rustling of clothes made you aware that she was getting up, the fast footsteps almost made you turn around in case she’d try anything funny, but instead she walked fast enough to get positioned in front of you, blocking your way.

Now you know what goes through her mind — An innocent hope that her lady is still alive — And her motivation would be saving Donna. But at what cost?

You gave a snort of annoyance, this is starting to make you angry; if she really expects you to go there only to find another corpse, then she’s deadly mistaken.

“ Move, child.”— Your nose scrunches as you warn her to get out of your way.

“ Lady, please, you must help!”

“Move.”

She moves her head from one side to another and opens her arms, ridiculously trying to cover all the hall extension, intending to block your path. Has she lost her mind? You feel your face grow warmer with irritation, your forehead exposing your wrinkles as you knot your eyebrows together; if looks could kill, she’d drop dead by how intensely you stare at her now.

You step forward, she flinches away for a rapid moment, but stands her ground; the determination splashed on her face makes you growl, how could someone be so irritating?

Although your instincts are begging you to do so, you won’t kill her; call it honor or pure stupidity, but you shall keep her alive — for Donna.

You take another step, sightly raising your hand to grab her shoulder and move her out of the way — you assume it was by how abruptly you moved — but she curled up and covered her face with both her hands in one quick motion, she’s almost trembling, her breath hitched on her throat, almost sounding like a cry. It makes your expression drop from infuriated to solemn. You step back, casting your gaze down before walking past her speedly.

Did that make you feel bad?

...No.

Or at least it shouldn’t.

Yet, you almost feel guilty for her reaction and what you’ve done for her. How unusual.

Could that be because you found out she has a meaning to the Benevientos? Oh, that’d be deplorable, only regretting causing harm to someone when they mean something.

But isn’t that how people normally act?

You catch a glance of her by the corner of your eye, she’s still at the very same position, her figure shakes as her vision seems to be unfocused, hands glued to her own face; there’s a hint of desperation on her shaky breath and trembling chin.

You expect her to inhale deeply and get up, shake that all off and go back to insisting for your help, for her to rise once again with enough strength and bravery for both of you; like a fenix — no, that’s too cliché — like a lioness, focused on protecting her family, willing to face anything or anyone to get what she wants.

But now she looks more like a scared bunny. No, not scared — terrorized. Hiding under her own palms, hoping to find any safety from… You.

Should you assist her? Will she ever get up? Is she even able to get up? — why are these thoughts on your mind, again? — You pity her, she seems so fragile she could shatter with the blowing of a sweet breeze.

That makes you think of Donna.

Just as fragile as this woman is now, that's how she always was. A porcelain doll, shattering because of everything she's been through.

How many times have you ever seen her petrified in place because of Miranda? Or at the verge of tears whenever someone raised their voice at her? Seeing this defenseless woman in front of you almost makes you picture Donna's dark eyes staring back at you from behind the trembling figure, curled up with her, silently begging for help.

The girl almost snatches you from your thoughts with a loud cry, but it only drowns you deeper in them.

It instantly took you back to the day you met your daughters. Their confused whimpers, the fright in their eyes when they found themselves lost and fearful, how Bela hugged her own knees and Daniela curled up on the bed. Seeing someone in this state is a familiar feeling.

Your eyes gradually become glossy; before you realize, your feet are already taking steps in the woman's direction, who still doesn't move an inch.

Bending your knees, you reach for the flask besides her, half empty — she used some of the disinfectant on herself already, but not quite rightfully — with the flask on your hands, you look at her; you suppose there's no other option left, you must aid her. She would've wanted that. Donna would cherish your choice, no?

You leisurely approach the small woman, who – finally – moves her eye around which slowly makes its way up to you; her gaze meets yours through the branches of her fingers gaps. The skin around her eyes is puffed and rosy, her cheeks are completely drenched — her wounds must hurt now.

Steadily, you offer her your free hand, making an effort to not startle the maiden again.

It takes a while, but her arms unglue from her knees and her right hand shakily meets your fingers, barely touching them, as if they'd burn her.

You try not to look at her face as you stand up and assist her on also doing so perhaps to not distress her any further. Once she stands on her feet, you notice a clean cloth sticking out of her bag – that'd be useful to aid her injuries – ; you carefully reach out to it, staring at the object. By Mother Miranda, it'd be much easier to simply finish her right here.

Dampening the cloth with the liquid in the flask, you look at her again, inspecting the places she didn't uninfected properly. She still looks alarmed, not responding normally, the best decision is to help her as fast as possible and give her space. Then who knows, you might actually be able to have time for yourself and your thoughts — and grieves — , huh?

She watches closely as your hand travels to her face; taking the damp cloth to meet her cuts, you lightly and delicately taps the fabric to her face, she hisses and shuts her eyes closed, you insist on your work, frowning your eyebrows anytime she'd contract her face muscles in pain — it was making your job harder.

You couldn’t avoid observing her left eye is closed, is she doing that on purpose? It makes you wonder how terribly it must be damaged.

Not a single word was said during the whole process, the only sounds that filled the air were a few cries and hisses, occasionally a sigh from you, but nothing else dared to break the immense silence that fell upon the place.

You stand up, the once white piece of cloth is now covered in shades crimson and maroon; the empty flask falls back into the maiden's hands as you give it to her along with the cloth.

“Are you able to bandage your damaged eye by yourself?” You ask, hoping for a positive answer.

The woman unhurriedly takes her time to ponder on the response, as she only stares at the flask and fabric on her hands. You sigh, you should say ‘Hurry!’ or simply leave, yet you still find yourself patiently waiting for the maid’s reply. You wonder what she must be contemplating now, after such a… 'rollercoaster of emotions’, as Daniela would say.

Oh, she’d speak in the most exquisite way, always coming up with new silly catchphrases, such a funny little girl… Bela, on the other hand, constantly attempted to sound like you, following your vocabulary and even mannerisms — You won’t lie, you enjoyed having someone look up at you that way; now, Cassandra could be seen as the most rebel one out of the three, and so did her way of speaking, you can’t recall how many times you lectured her about her vulgar language — In the end, she’d still curse at strangers and you found it genuinely funny sometimes.

Thinking of your daughters made you forget the woman in front of you and even painted the hint of a smile on your semblance, but you had to focus on the current situation, leading you to drop any crumbles of comfort on your expression and breathe profoundly, sighing slowly at the end.

Your act gained the girl’s attention once again, who now seems sure of what to say.

“I’m not certain… ” Well, now that definitely doesn’t sound ‘sure’ of anything.

“Listen, child; I will assist you now, and then you’ll leave this place and leave me alone. Do you understand?” — Something snapped at her, you almost were able to see her senses being fully regained past her eyes.

“My lady! With all due respect, I'm still in need of an answer!” — Now, there she goes again. — “Miss Beneviento is in great danger, you're our– her last hope.”

You close your eyes in order to not roll them. How many times will you have to say it?

“I want you to have a good look at this house and I, girl.” You stand up straighter, perhaps attempting to sound even more certain than you are. “Are you delusional enough to believe your lady still lives?”

“Delusional?”

“Indeed. Delusional.”

“I… Rather call it hope…”

She looks down as she speaks the last sentence, almost embarrassed of it. Does she even know Donna might actually be dead now? Is this all just a hopeless act, or perhaps the last mission of someone still in denial?

Well, you're not completely sure she was killed either, but it's better not to build any expectations; your daughters were a big enough heartbreak already.

Her hands run to fidget with her bag's straps once again – Has she got this mannerisms from Donna?

“Are you able to bandage your damaged eye by yourself?” You question once again, drifting away from the last subject.

The woman hesitantly nods, gaze still meeting the floor.

An irritated sigh parts your lips, you know she won't be able to do it by herself; oh, idiotic guilt and sense of honor, making you aid an stranger.

You grab her bag in one fluid motion, the maid's eyes barely catching on your movements, searching inside it, you find the materials you need — she did come prepared to assist you. — you take them out, dropping the almost emptied carrier on the floor.

Motioning her to come closer, you organize on your big hand the items you'll be using. The girl hesitantly steps forward, gripping on her own clothes, you are able to hear her loud heartbeats, sweat creating river-like patterns on her dirty skin, she's a complete mess — You're not in place to judge her, though.

Leisurely, you work over her injured eye, you may not be a veteran nurse or maid, but you did treat lots of your daughters wounds, leading to some experience in this area.

Taking your time to not do a disorganized job, you find yourself quite proud of how the bandage turned out, fully covering her eye and shielding it from whatever dirtiness that might try to get to her injury.

“I suppose you're aware you must keep this over your eye for a few weeks?” She nods, delicately touching the gauze on her face.

Breathing deeply, you turn around and make your way out, back to your Oh, sacred chambers; you may finally rest and be alone now – although allowing your mind to focus on something else than them for a while felt good.

“Lady Dimitrescu” — Her voice echoed through the once silent halls; your feet stop, still facing forward, you wait for her next words. — “... Thank you.”

Tsk.

You keep walking, ever so slightly gazing at the floor as you reach for your bedroom's door, how could someone be grateful at moments like this?

•

Thank y'all so sOOO much for all your support!! I was definitely not expecting so many people to like it!! yall have no idea what every like and comment means to me<3