Chapter Text
2 am. No signal. Battery dead. Not a trace of civilization in any direction. It’s freezing. Worst of all, none of the signs are in a language you understand.
why did you have to pick the cheapest ticket?
Now you’re alone in the middle of nowhere in the Austrian Alps; you’re stuck at a run-down train station with– no, you correct yourself. not a train station. Stations have amenities, staff, vending machines, even a room with a roof! This is a concrete platform with some benches and an overhang creaking in the wind. A flickering yellow bulb is the sole source of illumination, and an unmarked road behind you winds into dense, snowy forest.
why is this stop even here? just transfers for runaways as skint as you are?
All you had wanted was to get somewhere else, somewhere safe. Unfortunately for you, desperation tends not to care about logistics. A delayed train and a missed connection - was this to be your punishment for leaving? A night spent freezing to death with nothing but the moon for company? Will tomorrow’s train even bother stopping for a corpse as unloved as yours?
liz, you’re being melodramatic; cut it out. grab an extra jacket from your bag, charge your phone, and just fucking wait.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Reading something or playing a game might at least make the next several hours less painful. You dig through your hastily packed bag, and the moment of relief vanishes as quickly as it came; your charging block is nowhere to be found. A lump forms in your throat as reality sinks in: thirteen hours alone in the cold with nothing but your thoughts. You decide that a self-indulgent pity party would at the very least pass some time, so you pull your knees up to your chest, choke back a sob, and let the full weight of the past two months wash over you.
you had to tell them, didn’t you? couldn’t keep your mouth shut? you knew they would hate it, hate you, but you told them anyway. and look where you’ve wound up - at least there’s no one else here to see your pathetic mewling. you deserve everything that’s hap– were those footsteps?
In the middle of your wallowing, you hear the unmistakable crunch of boots on gravel. It can’t be that though - who would be around this time of night? Another traveler? You’re positive you were the only one who disembarked at this stop. Maybe it’s not boots; maybe it’s some sort of wild animal? A crazed forest hermit here to kill you? Maybe she followed you all the way here? Or or or–
“Geht es dir gut, Schatzi?” a voice like spiced honey pierces the silence.
Glancing around for the source, you spot her coming up the stairs: a lithe and raven-haired woman emerging from the snow. Draped in a knee-length velvet peacoat and at least a full foot taller than you, she cuts quite a striking figure. You’re not even sure if she’s real or if the cold has finally caused your mind to fail.
Wiping your eyes dry, you squeak out, “I-I’m sorry, I don’t. I don’t speak German.”
you’re pathetic.
The stranger steps under the light, warmly smiling down at you. She speaks in perfect, lightly accented English. “Ah, pardon me. Are you okay, sweetheart?”
sweetheart?
“Er, yeah. I mean, y-yes!” you say through chattering teeth. “I just, uh, m-missed my train, so I’m waiting here. For the next one. Th-thanks. Thank you for asking.”
why are you lightheaded?
Her warm smile never falters, but her eyes are indecipherable. Part of you knows you should ask the questions buzzing around your head: where the fuck did she even come from? Why is she out in the cold to begin with? It’s three in the morning, and you’re in the middle of the forest! Instead, you find yourself enraptured by her gaze, the implausibility of the situation drifting far from your thoughts as you sink further in.
“Are you sure? You’re shivering something fierce. Darling, another few minutes and you might freeze solid.”
darling?
You force a swallow and nod; you don’t trust yourself to fib convincingly in this state. Besides, something tells you being dishonest with this woman would be impossible, even on the best of nights.
She crouches down in front of you and cocks her head to the side, never breaking eye contact. “Can you tell me your name, you poor thing?”
“I’m Liz– Elisabeth, miss,” you stammer as you feel heat rising in your cheeks.
why are you blushing?
“A pleasure. You can call me Beatrice.” Her expression softens and her smile widens. She doesn’t break eye contact.
beatrice.
“Now, I’m not the sort of soul who would leave someone out in the cold,” she says, her voice lightening. “How about you stay in my spare room for the night? I always keep an extra bed prepared just in case. These mountains get ever so dreadfully frozen.”
Fuck. The warmth of a home (let alone a bed) is the best thing you could imagine right now. It’s so easy to picture yourself sinking into a mattress and thawing the cold from your marrow. But you shouldn’t be a burden. Besides, what’s the adage about strangers and candy?
you don’t deserve this.
“You’re too kind to offer, um, B-Beatrice.” Getting the words out to turn her down feels impossible. “I just- I can’t… I shouldn’t impose. Besides, I already m-missed one train; I can’t risk missing another.”
her name feels like silk on your tongue.
Hey eyes light up and she chuckles, a lilting musical laugh that seems to echo in the forest for far longer than it should.
“Impose? Don’t be ridiculous. Elisabeth, I’m offering you a bed, a bath, and a warm hearth. Think about it: if you came across a wounded animal, would you leave it to die?”
Your thoughts are getting sluggish - the early stages of hypothermia perhaps - but your breath catches at hearing your name on her lips. You can’t help but imagine her moaning it, and a familiar warmth burns between your thighs.
what the fuck?
“I g-guess so, yeah,” you admit. Forming sentences is becoming a struggle, but you still can’t look away. “I saved a h-hurt mouse once.”
“Ah. In that case, can I count on you to be a little mouse for me tonight and accept my aid?” she purrs all too matter-of-factly, eyes shining in the light.
The heat between your legs intensifies, and through the haze of it all, you find yourself grateful for a bag in your lap.
what’s wrong with you?
Her warm smile shows a hint of something else, something hungry. You catch yourself nodding before you even realize you’ve agreed. Suddenly–
beatrice leaning over you (you’re hers), running her fingers through your hair (you’re hers), ogling your body with a self-satisfied smirk (you’re hers), digging her teeth into your neck (you’re hers), whispering ‘good little mouse’ in your ear (you’re hers), feeling her throb insi-
“Wunderschön!” She claps once to punctuate the word, breaking you out of whatever the fuck that was, then stands up and smooths out her coat. “Is that bag the entirety of your personal effects, sweetie?”
Suppressing a shiver, you shake your head and point at your suitcase resting on the bench. Normally, your mind would be screaming at you, telling you to ask where exactly she lives, what your transportation will be, and why she’s so eager to help you. But your thoughts are drifting further and further away. Any vague notion of survival instincts has long since dissipated.
She turns to grab your suitcase and motions for you to follow, but standing up makes the world turn to static; you collapse unceremoniously to the ground.
“I’m sorry. Um, I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning; I was planning to get something on the n-next train. I have a granola bar in my bag, so I’ll be fine soon.”
She looks back at you, still smiling. “Nonsense. I’ll just carry you; it’s not far.”
Taken aback, you fruitlessly grasp for a response. Sure, Beatrice is nearly a foot taller than you, but you aren’t exactly the skinniest girl alive, and the idea of this slim, wraithlike woman carrying you anywhere is patently absurd, even in your addled state. Stunned at the prospect, all you manage to eek out is a quiet “what about my bags?”
Before you can process it happening, she swoops over and lifts you into a bridal carry without so much as a single sign of exertion. The sudden movement proves to be too much for your fragile state to handle, and you nearly pass out.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie,” she coos. “I’ve got you, and I’ll ensure your belongings are taken care of. Just relax and focus on my face.”
She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and her eyes seem to be almost glowing in the dim station light. There’s nowhere you’d rather look.
You feel yourself slipping away as the night catches up to you, and the last thing you remember before fading is another figure emerging from the woods to grab your bags. As the world goes dark, you can just barely make out an unfamiliar voice.
“Du bist ein so verlockender Köder, schwester”
secure (you’re hers), safe (you’re hers), protected (you’re hers), devoted (you’re hers)