Chapter Text
You knew better than to be out this late. The lycans that had recently infested your town’s border seemed to be more powerful and frightening than ever recently, but they were not what pursue you now. Your chest heaves and legs burn as you run from humans. From men.
They had spotted you on the walk between the church and your home, and their lewd catcalls quickly became disgusting shouts the faster you walked away. The moment one of the men stepped in your direction, you bolted. They immediately gave chase, perhaps assuming you’d be an easy target. You certainly hoped not to find out.
When you’d climbed over a dilapidated part of the wall you hadn’t expected the men to follow—no one in their right mind ever crossed it willingly—but, you supposed, it was not a willful decision. The men were gaining on you. You knew what would happen if they caught you and from that you find yourself in perhaps the most terrifying situation you’ve ever been in.
Your only option is forward, and the only thing that lie ahead of you is Castle Dimitrescu.
You’d heard all the stories about the castle, about the women who lived within. They had your town in their iron grip, yet despite that the town had a habit of circulating the tall tale that they were unholy, bloodthirsty beasts said to have outlived numerous generations of townspeople. When the citizens of the town would forget their place, they would take their pick of women—always women—and return with them to the castle. Most were never seen again. A Warning.
Lady Dimitrescu, the matriarch of the castle, was an enigma of her own. You’d heard the name—and the horror stories to match—many times, but had never laid eyes upon her visage in any way. You had hoped that if you were careful, you’d never have to.
A sharp snap of a branch not far behind spurs you on. You may be risking your life, but you wager the men will not follow you into the light shed by the castle’s entrance. No one was stupid enough to get this close to the castle on purpose.
The torches lend you some much-needed relief from the darkness. In that, you find the courage to turn your back to the castle, squaring your shoulders to the men emerging from the darkness and advancing towards you. You take a step back, then another, and again until your back makes a dull thud against the ornate castle door.
“No where to run, little girl,” says one of the men, grinning lasciviously. He steps closer to you, inches away from your face, and you can smell the vodka on his breath. This is it, you think solemnly. You won’t go down without a fight, but you know your odds of escaping are diminishing by the second. They will have their way with you then leave you to freeze in the night.
“Leave me alone,” you demand shakily, but from the cold, fear, or plain exhaustion is hard to say.
“I don’t think so, love. Not when you look so delicious.” The man reaches for you and you swat his hand away. His eyes flash with anger and he swiftly backhands you across the face. Using the door as support, you rear a foot up and deliver a kick directly to his sternum.
“You little bitch,” he sneers and advances again, this time flanked by the other men.
You squeeze your eyes shut and say one last prayer to whoever will listen before the men descend upon you. You brace yourself against the door and expect to feel another slap, hands groping and clawing at you, but instead barely have time to register that you are falling before your back slams into the ground. Disoriented and confused, you open your eyes and it takes a moment to process what you’re looking at; magnificent wooden banisters and a deeply colored ceiling.
I’m in the castle.
You don’t have time to register the weight of what that means before you feel a hand grip tightly onto your ankle. You look down and see the same man holding onto you, dragging you back out into the night. He’s nearly through the door when you hear buzzing. It grows louder with each passing second and your blood runs cold when you hear high-pitched laughter emanating from every corner of the castle. Before you can regain the capacity to fight back against the man’s grasp, a brunette woman in a long black cloak moves past you and grabs him by the throat, lifting him off his feet entirely.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a man in the castle,” she says with a cruel smile upon her lips.
A door directly to your left swings open and through it walk not one, but two other black-cloaked women, “And he brought friends,” the second, red-headed woman teases.
“One for each of us with some to spare,” the third woman, a blonde, exclaims, and the three women laugh. The two newest women waste no time dashing through the main door and the remaining men scatter. You quickly lose sight of the figures in the night and turn your focus back towards the man suspended by the hand around his neck.
“I haven’t had a man in ages, what a treat you will be,” the brunette woman taunts through bared teeth. She brings his neck to her mouth and sinks her teeth into his flesh.
Oh, fuck.
The man screams in agony as blood streams from the wound and drips onto the floor. The woman pulls her mouth away to run her tongue along the spilling blood, lapping it up with enthusiasm.
“Casandra,” a rich, silky voice calls from the behind you, “what have I told you about making a mess in the living quarters?”
“Yes, mother,” the brunette pulls her mouth away from the man and drags his thrashing body outside, closing the door behind her. You stare at the streak of blood left on the floor, shell-shocked by what you’ve just witnessed.
The rumors are true, you realize. Gods, all the women that have never returned. If the rumors are true, then that means…
“My daughters have never learned how to clean up after themselves properly,” comes the smooth voice again and you finally find the sense to stand up. Descending the grand staircase is a glorious woman. A dark, wide-brimmed hat sits atop perfectly-styled raven hair, contrasting sharply with her ivory skin and equally pale dress. You think it’s a trick of the light that makes her appear so incredibly tall, but as she continues to descend the stairs you realize she is truly colossal.
“Well well, what have we here?” She asks as she approaches. You take a step back reflexively, but she tuts and extends a hand out. “Come now, dear, I assure you I have more manners than my daughters.”
Your mind is screaming at you to run, but your legs seems to have a mind of their own as you take a small step towards her. She grins and it’s almost predatory the way she watches you, but there’s something about this woman that is incredibly alluring.
She takes a single step towards you and you now have to crane your neck to look up at her. You should be terrified, you think, you should be trying everything you can to escape. This woman stands nearly double your height and looks like she wants to eat you alive, but it’s so enticing that you can’t help but stay put.
“And who might you be?” She asks and Gods, that voice. You barely stammer out your name before she bends, reaching out and gripping your chin firmly but gently, and staring at you with what you can only describe as hunger.
“Quite bold of you to trespass here, little one.” You feel her words coil deep within you and file that away to be addressed later. If there is a later.
“I—I’m sorry, madam, I never meant—“
“I am the Lady of the Castle, and I expect to be addressed as such,” She cuts you off. Her grip on your chin tightens, but not painfully so, and you feel the coil tighten.
Oh, Gods. It’s her.
“M-my apologies, Lady Dimitrescu, I meant no disrespect.”
She studies you then releases your chin. “Of course not,” she sighs, “however I am not pleased to have an unexpected visitor, no matter how…delicious you seem.” It’s the second time tonight some has called you that, and yet instead of recoiling from the name you are now entranced by it.
Maybe she is going to eat me whole.
Would that really be such a horrible thing?
”Explain yourself,” her sharp tone cuts through your racing mind.
“I was pursued,” you explain as calmly as you can manage.
“Ah yes, those disgusting lycans are rather voracious lately, hmm?”
“Not by lycans, my Lady,” you say, and she looks at you suspiciously, “by men. Human men.”
Her face changes for a brief moment, just long enough for you to notice the anger and malice that glint in her golden eyes before she regains her composure. “Is that so?”
“Y-yes, my Lady, I thought they would not follow me towards the castle but they seemed too drunk to care.”
“Or perhaps too entranced to stop,” Lady Dimitrescu says and now something else glints in her eyes as she takes in your form. You feel your cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of red.
“I will offer you shelter from vile men tonight,” she says, surprising you, “however, we will discuss the terms of your residence tomorrow, should we choose to keep you.”
Your head swims. “Keep me?” You ask, your voice wavering. You hadn’t even expected to be granted shelter for the night, let alone permanently relocated.
“It’s been far too long since we’ve had…company. It’s always nice to have fresh blood around,” she smirks. You pale at the implication.
“Come now, let me show you to your quarters,” she turns her back to you, ascending the same stairs she came from, and your eyes wander. You must’ve stared much longer than you thought, because you hear her again. “Don’t make me wait.”
Your eyes snap up to her face and yes, she definitely just caught you staring. Your cheeks flush again and you quickly follow after her.
The castle is a damn maze. You follow Lady Dimitrescu through winding hallways, doors that blend into the walls, and somehow up even more stairs. By the time you reach a spare room, you are completely lost and you wonder if it’s her way of making sure you don’t escape during the night.
“You may stay here,” she says as you take in your environment. A single candle is all that lights the room, but even from that you can see that it is complete with a four-poster bed, fireplace, and vanity, and is just as beautiful as the rest of the castle.
As the rest of the things in the castle, you muse. You hear her leave the room and hurry to the door.
“Lady Dimitrescu?” You call after her. She stops to look at you and there is a hint of amusement in her expression. It renders you incapacitated for just a moment.
“Yes, little one?”
“I—um—“ you stammer, “I—Thank you.”
The older woman quirks an eyebrow at you and the amusement on her face deepens. “Oh? And what for?” She asks.
You scold yourself. Great question. What are you thankful for? That you’re stuck in the castle that inspired most of your town’s horror stories? That you escaped danger by running headlong into even more? Perhaps not ideal circumstance, you reason, but you’re alive, which is more than you would be able to say for yourself had you not ended up in the castle.
“Just…” you dip your head and hope she understands, “thank you.”
A small smirk plays at the corner of her lips and you’re sure your cheeks will forever be a light shade of pink now.
“You’re a curious little thing,” she says softly. She holds your gaze for a moment longer than necessary, humming softly before continuing down the hallway and out of sight.
You sit down on the bed and take a deep, steadying breath. Now that the adrenaline of the night is dying down, you realize how insane your situation has become. You don’t allow yourself to dwell on it long, however, as the waning adrenaline ushers exhaustion into your bones. You lie back on the bed, and within minutes you are deeply asleep.