Marianne stood in front of the metal door, nervously rubbing her arm. She could already feel herself beginning to grow hungry. The pang that feeling created was agonizing, and she knew that soon it would overtake her rational thoughts. Emma stood beside her with a burlap sack containing her meal for the night.
"Lady Edmund," Emma said. "I must apologize for the events of last night. I should have been more careful towards Ms. Arnault. Because of my lack of caution, she ended up becoming privy to your secret. Words alone can not describe my regret."
"No," Marianne said, shaking her head. "It was a mistake to invite her to begin with. The blame is mine alone. All we can do now is try to provide her a comfortable life here."
"She will undoubtedly try to escape," Emma reminded, opening the door. "When that happens, what will you do?" She stepped inside and untied the sack. Marianne said nothing as Emma emptied out the bag, letting the goat's head it was carrying fall to the ground. Marianne stared at it, feeling her hunger amplify. She had already begun to drool. "Rest assured that I will prevent a situation like this occurring ever again. You have my word."
Marianne shook her head once more. "No. Please, do not promise me such things. Dorothea is proof that we can never be sure of this secret staying hidden. I know you will do everything in your power to stop this from happening again, but I will stay guarded nonetheless."
"I understand," Emma said. She curtsied as Marianne entered containment. "I will see you in the morning."
"See you," Marianne said as Emma shut the door. As the lock clicked into place, Marianne breathed in, letting the smell of blood flood her senses. She grew dizzy, putting a hand to her head and eventually falling down. Her breathing became rough and ragged, and her thoughts began to dull. The severed head was now all she was focusing on, and the only thing she could do was let herself fall into her beastly depravity once more. She grabbed the goat's head, ripping out a chunk of it to bite into. Growling, she devoured the raw flesh, savoring the taste of blood. And as her feast began, she let out an agonized, feral scream.
Dorothea could hear the pounding from her room. All she could do was curl up in her bed and try to fall asleep. But sleep eluded her because of her fear. She pictured Marianne entering her room on all fours, snarling and leaping at her, tearing the flesh off her bones and devouring her. This was hell. No, this was beyond that.
Dorothea had been to hell before. She was helping Ingrid escape from a deranged suitor, and they ended up having to go through Ailell, the Valley of Torment. That was hell on earth; massive rivers of molten lava flowed between pitch black rock, plumes of smoke burning the eyes and flooding the lungs, and heat so intense that it sapped her energy in a matter of minutes. Yet, she wasn't scared when she was there. She had Ingrid, and the professor, and all of her classmates. She had Edelgard.
The thought infected Dorothea's mind before she could catch it. Memories of Edelgard played over and over in her head, only making her feel a greater sense of hopelessness. Edie, her precious Edie, the person who taught her what love truly feels like. The woman who swung a mighty axe at her with the intent to kill. Dorothea wondered if the emperor still thought about her the way she did.
The pounding sounds continued. Dorothea wondered how any of the servants could sleep, knowing what was going on in the attic. She wondered how Marianne slept, considering she was up doing this all night.
Dorothea's stomach growled. She looked over at the dinner tray still sitting by her door. Marianne had told her the effects of her poisoned food wouldn't wear off before she'd die of starvation, but she had decided against eating regardless to test if it was the truth. And indeed, Dorothea's attempts to use any sort of magic all ended in failure. Fire spells didn't even create a few scattered embers, and wind spells couldn't summon so much as a light breeze. So she gave in, getting out of bed and grabbing the tray. The food had gone cold, but it wouldn't be replaced until morning, so it was all she had. Despite the less than desirable temperature of the meal, it still tasted quite good. It was no doubt part of Marianne's effort to make her feel like a guest instead of a prisoner.
When morning came, Emma unlocked the cell door. Marianne was fast asleep in the center of the room, covered in the remains of the goat's head. Emma gently picked her up and carried her to Marianne's private bath chamber where warm water had already been prepared. She made sure to scrub every last bit of blood and hair off of her lady's body, getting it out from under her nails and extracting clumps of dried blood from her hair, being careful not to damage it. Once the water had turned red, Emma pulled Marianne out and placed her in the room's other tub, allowing her to finish cleaning her up in water that wasn't contaminated.
As Emma brushed Marianne's hair, the girl woke up, quietly groaning. "Stay still, my lady," Emma said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She didn't want Marianne straining herself so soon after waking up.
Marianne looked at the other tub and the red water within it. "Last night was a poor one, then." Emma nodded. "I'm getting worse."
"We can't know that for sure, Lady Edmund. Perhaps you were simply hungrier than usual."
Marianne sighed. "How is Dorothea faring?"
"I had the cooks prepare her breakfast. I've no idea if she'll eat it, however. Ms. Arnault is a stubborn woman."
"She always has been." Marianne looked down at the water, gazing at her reflection. "I've made a grave error. Because of me, she's now stuck here."
"Lady Edmund, you know my thoughts on this matter," Emma said, grabbing a towel. Marianne got out of the bath and allowed her attendant to dry her off. "She poses far too much of a risk, even in captivity. I must advise you to-"
"I'll hear none of that, Emma," Marianne interrupted. "That is an option I refuse to consider."
"If she manages to escape, what will you do? Hesitation could spell our downfall."
"If it does come to that, then we may discuss other options. But so long as she doesn't try anything, I will not allow so much as a hair upon her head to be harmed. Do you understand?" It was when Marianne spoke in such an assertive voice that Emma was reminded this wasn't the nerve-wracked young woman Margrave Edmund had adopted all those years ago.
"Yes, milady," Emma said, curtsying. "My apologies for broaching the subject." Once she finished drying Marianne off, she set the towel to the side. "Ah yes, I forgot to mention that her new quarters have been prepared. How would you like me to approach convincing her?"
"I'll do it," Marianne said, looking back at the crimson water filling the first tub.
"Is that wise, milady?"
"A familiar face may be what it takes. Even if that face is mine."
Once Marianne had finished getting ready for the day, she headed down to Dorothea's current guest room. After giving herself a few seconds to mentally prepare, she knocked gently on the door. "Dorothea? I'd like to discuss your current living situation. A new room has been prepared for you, if you'd like to use it." She received no response. "May I come in?" Still nothing. She sighed. "Dorothea, if you do not say anything, I will assume it is because you're currently waiting next to the door with the intent to attack me once I enter."
Still, Marianne got no answer. "At least tell me that you ate your breakfast. Surely you noticed the saghert and cream accompanying your eggs. I presume it's still a favorite meal of yours?"
"...How did you know I like that?" Dorothea asked. It didn't sound like she was by the door, but that didn't mean she wasn't previously. Besides, Marianne was now worrying more about coming up with an explanation for her knowledge.
"I…" Marianne hesitated. "I simply recall that you enjoyed it when we were at the monastery."
"Yes, well I suppose we all have our favorite meals, don't we?" The venom in Dorothea's voice made it clear what she was alluding to.
"Words alone can not express how sorry I am that you witnessed that, Dorothea," Marianne tried to explain. "It was never my intention for you to discover me in such a compromising position."
"That's a funny way of saying you were eating a severed cow's head, and then tried to eat me."
"No!" Marianne shouted. "That's not...I wasn't…" She winced. "Please. At least allow me to show you the room. I'm sure you'll prefer it to your current quarters."
For a while, Dorothea was silent. Marianne began to worry that she was being ignored. Then, Dorothea spoke. "Fine. Just...don't touch me. Please."
"Of course," Marianne said. She used her master key to unlock the door. Opening it, she saw Dorothea sitting on the side of her bed. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smeared with tears, and she was noticeably tired. At least she had eaten her breakfast. "Did you not get much sleep last night?"
"It was rather hard with that constant banging coming from the attic," Dorothea said, giving Marianne a contemptuous scowl. Still, she was too exhausted to keep the conversation up. She stood up and walked towards Marianne, who found herself backing away instinctively. It only just occurred to her how frightening Dorothea was in this condition. "Well? What are we waiting for?"
"Right," Marianne said, recollecting herself and guiding Dorothea through the estate. The servants all glanced at them as they walked by, no doubt wary towards the stranger who knew their secret.
They went to the second floor, which made Dorothea darkly chuckle. "Wonderful. Now you'll be even louder." Marianne almost said something, but she bit her tongue. Anything she said in response would surely be used against her.
Marianne led Dorothea to a set of double doors and unlocked them. Pushing them open, she revealed an expansive bedroom. A bookshelf sat against one of the walls, lined from top to bottom with various entries, ranging from historical texts to fairy tales. A large vanity was present, but it was empty. Emma had suggested they remove the mirror in case Dorothea tried to use shattered glass as a weapon, but Marianne opted to keep it. Besides, Dorothea could just as easily break the large window that gave a view of the back gardens.
The four-poster bed sat opposite the window, lavishly crafted from sturdy oak. As Dorothea stepped into the room and looked around, she found herself taken aback by how nice it really was for a glorified prison cell. Marianne nervously cleared her throat. "There is a bell atop your pillow. Ring it if you need anything and a servant will come to ask you what you need. He's been instructed to follow any orders you give, so long as they don't interfere with my own instructions."
"Meaning he won't let me leave," Dorothea muttered, approaching the window. "It's a wonderful cage, I'll give you that. The view is to die for." She noted the moss that brushed the edges of the window from outside.
"I hope that you one day may no longer view this as a cage, Dorothea." Marianne stood by the door, watching the songstress get accustomed to her new environment. "I've already begun working with Emma to figure out a way for you to spend time in other areas of the estate."
"How generous."
Marianne twiddled her thumbs. "I'll leave you to enjoy your new room." Truthfully, she felt like she needed to get out. There was an oppressive air surrounding Dorothea that was constantly expanding, threatening to drag Marianne into its misery. Her attitude always was rather infectious.
Dorothea heard the doors lock, just as she had expected. Still, she sighed, knowing that the hope of Marianne potentially forgetting had been dashed. She considered going to the bookshelf to see if there was anything worth perusing, but she ended up just staring out of the window. Various dogs roamed the gardens, ranging from innocent pups to massive, slobbering hunting hounds. Despite the intimidation the larger ones presented, none of them seemed to mind the servants in the slightest. Marianne did always have a way with animals.
Speaking of the devil, Dorothea could see Marianne leave the manor and enter the garden. One of the smaller dogs approached her, sitting down and panting. She lovingly scratched it behind the ears. And while Dorothea could see the love for the dog in every movement Marianne made, her mind's eye still saw the beast that took a heavy vase to the side of the head and got back up in a matter of seconds.
Marianne turned her head and looked up at Dorothea. In response, the songstress closed the curtains, cutting off their line of sight. Marianne sighed, walking over to the gazebo where the performance had happened. Despite the recent turmoil, at least she was able to watch Dorothea sing. Gods, she was every bit as wonderful as Marianne remembered. She held a majestic beauty that went far beyond mere appearances. Every part of her was lovely, from her face to her hair to her voice. And oh, her voice was something most could only dream of hearing.
Dorothea was a songbird, and Marianne had caged her. It wasn't right. But what else could she do? If only Dorothea could understand that - if she could just see the bigger picture, the lives at stake, then perhaps she wouldn't look at Marianne the way she did, with scorn in her eyes and fury barely contained by the sheer exhaustion she was suffering from.
Looking at the heavy treeline that surrounded the estate, it occured to Marianne that she was in a cage of her own. To leave would be putting herself and gods know how many others at risk. But even her cage could only do so much. She was getting worse; no matter how much Emma tried to insist otherwise, it was the truth. When her condition first manifested, she wouldn't start feeling hungry until well after dusk. Now, just watching a sunset sent pangs through her stomach. And how much longer would it be until a simple head would no longer suffice? It already terrified her enough, knowing how much she was consuming. Knowing what she was consuming. At least at Garreg Mach, she could justify the things she did. Self-defense, or justice, or any other excuse for killing. But all she had here was her own disgusting instincts.
Sometimes, it felt like Marianne's crest was something physical, almost an organ, that she could remove if she simply dug deep enough. She'd begin pawing at her chest, scratching her skin, desperate for any kind of release from her curse. All it would take was for her to plunge her hand into her ribcage and yank it out. But then, as blood began to drip from her scratches, she'd remember that her crest was ingrained in her far deeper than simply a singular object that could be removed. It was in her blood, her marrow, the very fluid that gave her life.
She was doing it again. She pulled her hands away, staring at the blood smeared on her fingertips. In a panic, she hurried over to the nearest fountain to wipe it off. Emma always raised such a fuss whenever she did this, and she didn't want to make her worry more than she already was. As she gathered the last droplets of blood off her collarbone and cleaned it off in the fountain, she glanced back at the manor. And through a nearly closed curtain, she saw Dorothea staring at her. Anybody else wouldn't have noticed, considering the distance and light. But Marianne's crest did give her some abilities she wasn't opposed to having.
Dorothea kept peeking past the curtain, confident that she hadn't been noticed. Marianne must've just glanced her way, that was all. But what was Marianne doing, she wondered? She ran to the fountain in such a hurry. Knowing she wouldn't be able to figure it out, she sighed and walked away from the window. The bell was still resting on her pillow. She looked down at herself, remembering that she hadn't actually gotten a change of clothes since the other night. Part of her current dress was even ripped thanks to Marianne's assault. Freshening up wouldn't be a bad first thing to do, she thought to herself as she walked to her bed, grabbed the bell, and gave it a ring.
Dorothea counted the time it took for the servant to knock on her door. Twenty seconds. Impressive. "You rang, Ms. Arnault?" a boy said from the other side of the door.
"Yes," Dorothea said, clearing her throat. "Could you prepare a bath for me? And some new clothes, as well."
"Certainly, Ms. Arnault," the boy said. She decided to count the seconds it took for him to return. It was considerably longer this time, taking him seven minutes and fifty-six seconds (give or take, she had lost her exact place around the five minute mark) before he knocked on her door once again. "Your bath is ready, Ms. Arnault. May I open the door?"
"Yes," Dorothea said, staying by her bed. If Marianne was clever enough to catch on to any attempts to stand by the door for an attack, then she'd have told her servants to watch out as well. The door opened, revealing a young man with dirty blonde hair neatly swept back. He bowed.
"If you'll follow me," the boy said, motioning for Dorothea to leave the room. She did, deciding not to try anything just yet. It was too risky to attempt an escape with the entire estate on high alert thanks to the stunt she had pulled. She was led to a large bathhouse, easily the size of her own room. Anything that wasn't flooded with water was instead filled with steam. She spotted a new red dress neatly folded by the door.
"So," Dorothea said, stepping inside, "if I asked you to come in with me, would you have to comply?" The servant's face went bright red as expected, making her giggle. "I'm kidding."
"Oh, I...I see. Right. Well then, I'll, erm, be waiting outside. Just let me know if you need anything." With that, he bowed and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. It didn't lock, but she knew it was simply because he would be waiting outside the whole time.
Being able to relax in a hot bath was a luxury that Dorothea didn't realize she needed until she sank into the water, letting out a deep sigh that expelled more relief than air. Her tense shoulders relaxed and her limbs went limp. For a while she was content to simply remain like that, letting the heat overcome her. Still, after some time she got to work on properly cleaning herself, rubbing all the makeup and dirt off of her face. She grabbed a nearby bar of soap and started scrubbing herself, feeling as if she was becoming lighter from all the dirt coming off her skin.
As Dorothea finished up with the bar of soap, the door to the baths opened. She hurriedly looked to see who was entering, covering her chest with her arms. It was Emma, who shut the door behind her and began to strip. "Hey, what are you doing!?" Dorothea exclaimed.
"These baths are communal, Ms. Arnault," Emma said matter-of-factly, folding her clothes before entering the water. "Lady Edmund is the only one who has a private bath. If this bothers you, I suggest speaking to her about it." She closed her eyes, silently enjoying the bath just as Dorothea had been earlier.
Still embarrassed, Dorothea hurried out of the bath. She tried not to look at Emma as she grabbed a towel and began to dry off. "Leaving so soon, Ms. Arnault?" Emma asked, her eyes still closed.
"I was already finishing up my bath before you entered," Dorothea said. "Is that boy still waiting outside?"
Emma nodded. "Yes, Andrew is still waiting." Dorothea took note of his name. "Before you leave, Ms. Arnault, may I have a quick word? All you need to do is listen. Whether you answer me or not is up to you."
"Do I have a choice?" Dorothea asked back, grabbing her clothes and beginning to put them on.
"Ms. Arnault, my lady has put a considerable amount of faith in you. If it were anyone else who discovered her secret, she would not show nearly as much courtesy as you have received. It would be best for you to understand how fortunate you are."
"Fortunate?" Dorothea chuckled bitterly. "I didn't know you were the kind of person to tell jokes like that."
"I'm not," Emma said. "You truly are fortunate. Lady Edmund has much to protect. It's more than just a legacy or her own life. She wishes to keep everyone in this estate safe. And we in turn wish to keep her safe. The estate is a sanctuary, and so long as the truth of her crest is not discovered, it will remain that way. Lady Edmund is not very fond of violence. The acts she commits every night disgust her to no end. But she will not shy away from the act if it is necessary."
Dorothea glared at Emma, who still had her eyes closed. "What I'm saying," Emma continued, "is that if anyone else had discovered the attic, they would not have been given an opportunity to stay here. Do you understand?" Dorothea felt a chill run up her spine as she processed what Emma was saying. "So, for the sake of everyone here, yourself especially, do not trouble Lady Edmund with something as foolish as an escape attempt. For if you do, I can not guarantee your continued safety."
Dorothea was now dressed, but she didn't leave immediately. What Emma said had forced her to realize just what kind of cage she had truly been put in. There were only two paths that she had right now, and they were either a life in captivity or a quick death. She really did feel like a caged bird at this point. But even singing felt wrong to this songbird. It felt like she would be rewarding Marianne.
Even as that servant boy, Andrew, led Dorothea back to her room, she felt like Emma was still right next to her, whispering in her ear about the fate that would befall her should she aim for freedom. The attendant had no love for her, and it was doubtless that without Marianne's orders, Dorothea would be dead already. And yet, in spite of the terror that possibility gave her, she wondered if that was truly the worst option in this awful world she had become trapped in.