Chapter Text
“Who is that woman, Mother?” Bela asks, as she eyes the painting Lady Dimitrescu’s working on for the first time.
She isn’t exactly quiet in her approach, but her mother had clearly been focussed enough that she’s still startled, almost knocking over the jar of paint thinner waiting ominously for her on the side. A gasping chuckle escapes the lady as she places a gloved hand over her heart. “You startled me, darling.” She smiles, coaxing her child closer. “And she is a friend. Why do you ask?”
The painting is unfinished, barely started really—but the face has taken shape well and stands out in its detail compared with the rest of the canvas. Bela leans closer, feeling her lips tug into a smile. “It’s nothing.” She says, after a while. “I just…she’s very beautiful. Like a princess. You are very gifted, Mother.”
Alcina Dimitrescu laughs and gently pulls her daughter onto her lap, pressing a soft kiss to her temple which leaves a lipstick mark. “And you are far too kind, my darling. But I can only paint beauty where I see it—my model was quite something.”
Bela nods, resting her head in the crook of her mother’s neck. She’d actually come to see her mother because they were done killing the man farmer who came to the castle in search of his daughter—Daniela and Cassandra are wrestling for the remaining leg down in the dungeons—but Bela had eaten her fill and came to inform her mother of their success. She also, perhaps selfishly, craves alone time with her mother above all else—as much as she loves her sisters dearly, being the sole subject of her mother’s attention always makes her heart feel light and happy. Alcina knows this and presses another kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I assume the man creature has been dealt with?”
Tearing her gaze away from the painting, Bela inclines her head. “Yes, Mother. We drained him completely, and very quickly. Daniela was very hungry.”
Alcina laughs. “Daniela is always hungry. Did you get enough? I can have a maiden come up for you. I know you tend to leave most for your sister’s but please don’t make a martyr of yourself, darling.”
“No, I really am full.” Bela says, nuzzling closer to her mother’s warmth as her eyes return to the painting. There is a loosely sketched figure on the main subject’s knee, the young woman tries to make it out but can’t. “Will that be a child on her knee, Mother?”
“No, a doll, darling.” Her Mother says.
Bela’s eyes widen in intrigue. “A scary one, Mama?”
“Is there any other kind?” Alcina grins and reaches out for her paint brush with her free hand. “Now, fetch that chair over there and sit beside me. I’ve been meaning to teach you how to properly blend your oils for months.”
The thought brings happiness to the young woman, so she smiles and does as she is asked. “Would you like me to get Daniela and Cassandra to join us?”
Alcina shakes her head, and that brings her eldest a lot of perhaps selfish joy. They can have extra limbs if they so desire, Bela would much rather spend her time with her mother. “No, I don’t think so darling. They never quite had the aptitude for the higher arts that we have, between you and I. But there’s supposed to be a storm later, so we can all get together then, yes?”
Bela beams and rushes to sit beside her mother once she’s collected the chair. She is not young, linearly, by any means but it will still be a few years before she starts to consider the world outside the Castle Dimitrescu, a life beyond the cycle of killing and eating and painting and playing, with both her food and her sisters. She loves her home, and her family—even her Uncle Heisenberg, when he occasionally makes his appearances and brings them new toys.
The painting of the beautiful woman is completed over the next two weeks, and Bela is sorry to see it go. But life goes on, and it’s given to its commissioner, and Bela’s got men to drink.
Bela watches silently as her mother huffs, crossing her arms and shaking her head. She’s not been on board with this idea since the beginning despite all Daniela and Cassandra’s begging, and in truth Bela didn’t think she’d even entertain the notion for more than a few minutes. But her sisters are nothing if not persistent, and in the height of summer the castle has become too stifling for their large appetites.
Bela, too, feels a little suppressed sometimes. But she does not necessarily see that as a bad thing—their mother not wanting them to leave is just more evidence that she loves them, and there’s nothing Bela likes being reminded of more than her mother’s love.
But Cassandra and Daniela clearly don’t agree, hence their mother’s crumbling resolve.
“You are to never leave the boundaries of Dimitrescu land, do you hear me?” Alcina says, eyes narrowed in her severity. Bela knows her sisters will do as they are told, but their mother’s domineering tone is somewhat undermined by the fact that she’s still giving into them. “I will release six maidens. No more—we are running low on staff as it is. You are not to let any get away, but if by happenchance one manages to escape our land you do not pursue yourself! Daniela, what do you do?”
“Come back and tell you, Mama.” Daniela recites.
“Good girl. And Cassandra, what do you do if it starts to rain, or the wind picks up?”
“Drink quicker?” The middle daughter attempts to joke, but from her mother’s glare she quickly thinks better of it. “Return home immediately, and leave the maidens for the lycans, Mother.”
She seems pleased with their remembering of the rules, but the tension in their mother’s shoulders doesn’t diffuse even a little. “This hunt is a treat, but also and experiment of sorts. Perhaps if it all goes well, we shall do it again. But if not, your outside privileges shall be severely reduced. Am I clear, girls?”
Daniela and Cassandra nod furiously, and Bela nods with them. She’ll have an excellent time, she’s sure, hunting the maidens in the forest—the thrill of being a true predator in the wild sends a shiver down her spine. If it weren’t for her mother’s nervous posture she might have been as excited as her sisters. “I will bring you back a heart, Mother.” Bela promises, with a feral grin.
“My sweet baby.” Alcina’s expression softens, and she leans down to press a kiss on the top of Bela’s head. Cassandra rolls her eyes, and Bela thinks she sees her mutter suck up under her breath while Daniela jumps up excitedly on her feet.
“How long until we can go, Mama?” The youngest of the three asks, skipping to the window that looks out on the forest. The sun is beating down on their secluded region of Romania. It is especially hot today—Bela imagines that’s why their mother is allowing a proper hunt like they’ve been begging for—and she feels herself twirl her sickle’s hilt in her hand.
“You’ve got to give them a chance, Daniela darling.” Alcina chuckles, laying a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder as they watch the group of maidens be released from the castle. Bela doesn’t know if they know they’re part of a hunt but finds that she doesn’t really care—they’re just vermin under the Dimitrescu’s feet for eating, and to have the kill shall be nothing short of thrilling.
Bela licks her lips as the last one disappears into the trees. “Now, Mama?” Daniela asks, practically giddy.
Alcina nods her head. “Go on, my loves. Have your fun.”
The three of them take off with speed, unconscious comfort in their mother’s vigil.
They stay together as they first enter the forest, Daniela practically feral in her excitement as she rakes her sickle along the tree’s bark. The brunette sister kneels down to inspect some footprints in the mud, gently tracing a finger against the big toe print. “They didn’t all stay together, but most headed back towards the village.” She chuckles. “They’re too stupid.”
“They’re rodents, what were you expecting?” Bela licks her lips, looking in the other direction. “The others went towards the water. I’ll have them, you can have the village rats.”
Daniela giggles and grabs Cassandra’s arm. “Come on, Cassie! I bet I’ll have first kill!”
The brunette rolls her eyes. “In your dreams.”
They take off in a sprint while Bela looks towards the other prints, jogging along the treeline. The footprints are not as clear as they would be in the autumn when the mud is sticky and slimy, but Bela can see them clearly enough that the tracking is child’s play. After a little while she finds the first girl sobbing on the ground, her ankle twisted after having fallen over a particularly obtrusive branch. Bela spies her from a distance and starts to phase into flies.
When the first few insects appear by the maidens face she screams, having served too long at Castle Dimitrescu not to know what that means. Bela savours it, almost laughing as she girl tries to scramble to her feet with a pained cry as more and more flies materialise by the girl’s shoulder, back, face. The girl falls back, clearly giving up, and sobs into the crook of her arm.
Bela frowns as she fully materialises before her, twirling her sickle around beside her. “You know, I prefer it when my prey puts up more of a fight.” She pouts.
If she’s expecting a response from the maiden, she doesn’t get one—the girl is too far gone to be engaging in any conversation at this point. Still, Bela acknowledges, any prey is better than none—and she will be the perfect candidate to get that heart for Mother. It’s not like this kill will have to be very violent or messy from appearances, so her organs will be neat and unscathed. There is nothing Alcina Dimitrescu likes more than maiden hearts. Bela closes in, teeth bared in a grin as she girl whimpers, shying her eyes away from the face that will grant her death—
A rustle.
Bela’s head snaps up and she scans her environment quickly. Is it possible that the other maiden has returned to save her friend? Bela narrows her eyes after determining the noise came from the right and stands back up. “You won’t go anywhere, will you?” She chuckles as she kicks the maiden’s broken ankle and saunters away. Mother likes her hearts warm, after all—it won’t do to have it sitting dead for a while before she can bring it to her.
The forest is rich with birds and animals, but Bela has been here often enough to know the difference between animal and human movement. She can smell the difference most of the time. The first time she came to the forest was when she and her sisters were still in a kind of infancy, and Mother wanted them to understand their environment, their nature. There’s a book of Romanian wildlife in the castle library that Bela had read ardently in preparation—and still recalls the mixture of shock and horror on Mother’s face when she picked up a pair of horned vipers and presented them to her with a proud grin.
(She did not get to keep the vipers like she’d wanted, but Daniela got an abandoned lynx cub they’d found on a walk. Daniela got bored of it very quickly, of course, and Bela took ownership after a week or so—but she liked having Pufos for the seven years he lived).
After a minute or so of pursuing this new target Bela starts to hear a voice. She can’t exactly make out what the girl is saying but is mildly surprised by it’s high pitch. She probably shouldn’t be, she reasons to herself, given that she’s never taken the time to communicate with their servants beyond yelling orders before but it’s still a little shock to the system.
There’s a clearing coming up that’s littered with bluebells, and seems like the perfect place to cut the maiden off, so Bela skips ahead of the shrouded maiden figure to wait for her behind a particularly thick oak. She can’t see the girl but she can hear her voice, the gentle crunch of her footsteps against the moss, the rhythmic pounding of her heart. With a barely repressed grin, Bela holds her sickle to her chest waiting for just the right moment to—
She pounces, leaping onto the figure with a vicious cry and refined reflexes. It takes a little while for her brain to catch up with her body as she straddles the fallen figure with her sickle to their throat, because this fallen veiled figure is almost certainly not one of the maidens that her mother let loose.
The realisation dawns upon Bela as she feels a wooden arm whack her on the back.
“Get off!” A shrill, childlike voice screeches as Bela stomach sinks. “Get off of her, you filthy animal!”
Bela scrambles off the figure, eyes wide with terror as she stays down on her knees. “Lady Beneviento! I am sorry—eternally apologetic—I thought you were one of Mother’s maidens, I thought—”
“Well, you thought wrong.” The doll snaps, moving to its mistress and helping her brush off her skirt. Bela imagines that Lady Beneviento probably looks furious underneath her veil, or maybe upset, or shocked. The horrible thing is she doesn’t know what the woman is feeling, and thus hasn’t a clue what to say other than another apology. “Give me your curvy sword. I want to hit you with it.” The doll holds her hand out and Bela’s eyes widen in surprise. Somehow, though, she feels maybe she’s earnt that kind of punishment for jumping one of Mother Miranda’s lords.
She ducks her head, reaching to give the doll her sickle when Lady Beneviento steps between them, shooting a glare to her wooden companion. Or at least what Bela assumes is a glare—it is difficult to tell, but from the dolls reticent reaction she’s guessing so. Clutching her weapon back to her chest, Bela looks between them hesitantly. “If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Beneviento, where are you headed? Allow me to walk you back to begin to make up my insult?”
“Go away.” The doll sneers, taking Beneviento’s hand. “You’re caused enough trouble as it is.”
The thought of Mother’s disappointment when she finds out that Bela accosted Lady Beneviento is enough to make her tremble with horror—the image of her anger, her rage and then her defeat as she turns away from her. Bela pushes herself to her feet and takes a hesitant step towards them. “Please, Lady Beneviento…tell me how I can make this right?”
Perhaps that was not the right way to phrase it because, as before, Beneviento doesn’t tell her anything. Her head looks back at the blonde girl but for all Bela knows she could be looking right through her.
She’s gone quickly, and Bela’s not going to pursue only to aggravate her further.
“It’ll be okay!” Bela tries to assure herself, as she slowly stalks back to the first maiden. “She…she doesn’t talk. She’s not going to tell anyone, Mama’s not going to find out. No one will.” Lady Beneviento might not talk, but that wretched doll sure does. It’ll reflect so badly on house Dimitrescu if she tells Mother Miranda—prove what those other lords already think about her and her sisters, that they’re monsters and monsters alone.
Bela feels her breath start to run away from her and tries to remember what her mother taught her—five things she can see, four things she can touch, three things—
It’ll be okay, Bela tries again. Kill the maiden, bring Mother a heart and apologise for letting the other maiden go. Tell her the truth. She’ll be less angry if you tell the truth, that way she won’t have to hear it from Beneviento or Mother Miranda.
Perhaps unjustly, Bela takes a lot of her fears out on the poor, unfortunate maiden that afternoon.
She catches up with Daniela and Cassandra an hour or so later in the castle, both still buzzing with excitement from their kills. Bela gave her mother the heart and absorbed her proud smile so fully that she…she lost her resolve and couldn’t tell her what really happened. But maybe she can tell her sisters, they can help her figure out what to do.
“You look a little too solemn, Bels.” Daniela pouts and sits down beside her sister, wrapping her arm around Bela’s shoulder. “Was your chase not as exciting as you wanted it to be?”
Bela tries to laugh but it comes out cold and mirthless. Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “What did you do?”
The eldest sighs, pulling her hood down. “I made a mistake, and it might not mean anything but…but I was going to tell Mother, but I don’t want her to be mad at me.”
“Mother’s always mad at me for doing stupid things, it never lasts long. She loves us too much to really be angry.” Daniela is quick to assure her, rubbing calming circles in Bela’s back. The blonde has always been the most naturally anxious of the three of them—always desperate to please Mother—but it’s rare for her to be so openly upset about something.
“You’ve never done something this stupid.” Bela exhales shakily.
Cassandra frowns and sits on her other side, resting her hand on Bela’s gently. “You can tell us. We won’t judge you.”
“I…I thought I saw one of the maidens, so I chased her and jumped her.” Bela says. “But it wasn’t a maiden.”
The red-haired girl laughs. “A villager? They will get over it, Bels. Don’t worry about it. Mama will not care.”
“It was Lady Beneviento!” Bela squeaks. That shuts her sisters up for a moment, and they both stare at her in shock. She’d known this kind of reaction was coming but it’s still not exactly reassuring when they’re both normally so full of opinions. It almost looks like Daniela’s going to say something when their mother steps out into the room, the smile she was wearing dropping immediately when she catches sight of them.
“Bela?” She asks immediately, rushing towards them and squatting to match her height. Alcina cups her hand around Bela’s head, forcing her to make eye contact. “Bela, my love, what happened?” She turns to Cassandra. “Is she okay?”
The brunette seems to wait a moment to see if Bela will answer for herself, and when it becomes apparent she won’t, clears her throat. “Bela’s terrified of you being angry with her so she didn’t tell you, but something went wrong during the hunt.”
Their mother’s expression turns stern. “Bela Dimitrescu.”
Bela forces herself to take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry Mama, I think I…I know I offended Lady Beneviento because I thought she was one of the maidens and I attacked her—but I didn’t hurt her! I tried to apologise but she doesn’t talk and—I’m so sorry Mama—” She starts to sob as Alcina curses under her breath.
“It was definitely an accident, Mama.” Daniela adds, though it sounds a little weak.
Alcina growls. “Daniela, Cassandra, leave us.”
They do as their told, but Cassandra leaves with a lingering look of pity to her sister. Being on the short end of Mother’s temper is never pleasant, especially alone, and especially for Bela. Once they are out of earshot, Bela’s mother erupts.
There is a lot of shouting. A lot of: ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘Didn’t I teach you better than that?’, ‘What am I supposed to tell Mother Miranda if Beneviento tells her?’ but after a getting it all out she visibly relaxes, and then comes the look that Bela is so dreading.
The disappointment.
Alcina sighs and falls down beside her daughter, rubbing her forehead in exhaustion. “I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, Bela. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think Beneviento will say anything about it, she and Mother Miranda aren’t close as Miranda likes to think—if Donna will talk to anyone it’ll be me. I will send her a letter of apology tomorrow, and then we shall let the matter lie in hope that nothing else comes from it. Is that clear, Bela?”
Bela nods furiously. “Yes! Yes. I’m so sorry, Mama. I didn’t m-mean—” She tries to swallow back her tears and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. Alcina’s expression softens, and she places her hand gently on Bela’s shoulder.
“It’ll be alright, darling.” She promises, even though there is no way she can know that. Mother may know Beneviento a little more than Bela herself, but no one really knows her, her apparent attack could result in disaster for their family. If it displeases Mother Miranda then it’s the end of them no matter what favour Mother may have gained in the past. “Just go to your room and get some sleep. I don’t want you leaving the castle for the next few weeks.”
The young woman stands and starts to head out of the room. She almost wants her mother to stop her, hug her, kiss her and tell her everything will be okay again but she won’t—Bela certainly doesn’t deserve it tonight. She knows that the relationships between the four lords are fragile enough as it is and now she’s gone and messed it all up! Perhaps Mother isn’t being harsh enough.
Bela shuts her door firmly behind her and trades in her day dress for a simpler, black nightgown. She takes her time washing the blood off her face and her hair, brushing it out a thousand strokes—if she’s counting, she doesn’t have to think about anything else. The mess has been caused and there is nothing else she can do about it now—it’s best to let her Mother, who always fixes everything, fix this too.
She reaches her thousand and sets the brush down on her vanity table, two yellow eyes in the mirror glaring back at her almost accusingly. Bela hisses and turns away, falling back onto her bed.
It’s midsummer so there aren’t any storms which is a shame because they always watch them together as a family. Not that, even if there was one, they would do that today. Her sisters won’t care about this tomorrow, but it’ll be so long before Mother forgives her—she just knows it.
She twists onto her stomach, pulling her pillow closer to hug. Just stay at home. Don’t think about it. Everything will be okay, just like Mama said. Tomorrow she’ll get up early to work on the flower beds, have a meal with her sisters and then hide in the library. She’s got a few thick history tomes she’s been meaning to get to for a while—War of the Roses and thorough history of Wallachia if she remembers right—so now is probably the best time to disappear with them.
Her mind flits back to the garden. They have roses and poppies in the flowerbeds, but Bela’s been refurbishing the greenhouse too recently where she has hyacinths, geraniums, petunias and asphodels amongst others. They are all due a good water, and it’s probably about time she gets a servant to weed the beds too.
At that an idea springs into her mind and Bela shoots up, snatching a worn book from her shelf to aggressively flick to the page she wants. She finds a weathered watercolour illustration of a purple hyacinth and feels a weak smile tug at her lips. Tucking the book under her arm and grabbing a cloak from her wardrobe, her flies swarm and the young woman rushes towards her greenhouse. She might not be able to undo her action, but a well curated bouquet of flowers never hurt anyone and will perhaps help to endear Beneviento to her.
She knows the general direction of the Beneviento home, and tonight the weather seems to be good. Bela can be back before morning—Mother doesn’t need to know—and it might just be the gesture that earns her forgiveness.
Taking a ribbon from her hair, Bela surveys her selection and picks her best-looking purple hyacinths. The book says they are supposed to symbolise regret and ask forgiveness, so they are perfect. Asphodels are supposed to be apologies as well but hers are not properly bloomed yet, so Bela elects to leave them and grab some white poppies from the flowerbeds instead. Mother would be so angry at her for being outside without permission, let alone at night, but this is something Bela needs to do. It is her problem to fix; her wrong to right. She’ll be okay as long as long as she’s quick.
Bela’s halfway through the forest when it seems like things might be going wrong.
She feels herself shiver and pulls her cloak around herself tighter, careful not to crush a single petal in the white and purple bouquet. Her flies aren’t quite lethargic yet, but their pace is beginning to slow and that’s always the first sign that her strength is starting to sap away. Bela shakes her head and presses on, slowing her pace to a jog as she reaches the valley where Beneviento’s house is located.
That’s when it starts raining.
Bela curses her luck and starts to sprint even though her muscles are tiring alarming quickly, holding one arm over the flowers to try and protect them. She reaches the bridge the crosses from Dimitrescu territory to Beneviento when the water seeps through her cloak—her limbs starting so feel frozen solid as she drags herself over. It is not cold enough to kill you, Bela tells herself. There’s not frost, just wind and water. You’ll be fine.
The stiffening limbs and still blowflies aren’t really reassuring, but Bela persists.
She hears the rushing of the waterfall well before she sees the house, but the vision is like a blessing. Bela might have smiled if it weren’t for her legs giving out as the torrent of rain continues to attack her fallen form. The flowers are saved from a muddy fate but Bela lands badly and cries out, blinking away tears. The fact that her mother is going to absolutely murder her lingers at the back of her mind but she doesn’t dare focus on it. The house is close now, so close that Bela can practically feel the wooden under her hands and she hauls herself closer—careful to keep the flowers away from the mud. Were she less focussed, Bela might have been concerned about the fact she can’t feel her frozen stiff legs at all, or the fact that her shoulders are almost screeching with effort every time she pulls herself onwards. But as she reaches the wooden steps leading up to the house and places the bouquet safely away from the dirt, all she can feel is a perverse triumph.
Her left arm cracks and Bela cries out in pain as it goes limp. She’s soaked to the bone and her shivering has almost completely ceased as her body freezes up, and a terrible fear sets in.
She makes one final attempt to make it to the door but her back cracks with the exertion and she cannot keep the feral scream of pain inside—only a conscious for a moment more before everything turns black.
Had she been awake for just a moment longer, she would have seen Lady Beneviento rushing to find the source of the pained noise.