Ethan was surprised to find a note. It was scribbled on the second page of the journal which the Duke oh-so serendipitously gave him. Stranger still was that, judging by the content, it had been penned in advance.
Dear Mr. Winters,
It was a delight to see you today in such good, healthy shape. Lady Bela has told me much about you in the few times she has brought you up. I trust that our transaction today will go a long way to improving your stay in Castle Dimitrescu.
It goes without saying that, for the time being, access to my stock of firearms, ammunition, explosives, and other combat-related implements, are restricted. However, if there is anything else that you need, simply tell Lady Bela that you wish to see me. I will be waiting in the salesroom, ready to receive you.
I understand that you may find your situation to be less than desirable. Rest assured, you could not be in better hands for the duration of your stay in the castle. I can tell that Lady Bela is quite fond of you. Be patient with her, and I am sure it will bear fruits.
Take my advice - if you find yourself on the receiving end of her fangs, do not be afraid to speak your mind to her. Lady Bela is best spoken to when her tongue is still fresh with blood.
I eagerly await our next meeting.
Very Truly Yours,
The Duke
Ethan ran an idle finger across the surface of the smooth paper. His eyes ran over the neat, even writing that adorned the page. He read the note once, twice, and finally thrice before he stowed the journal away.
How it was the Duke planned to be at the ready the moment Ethan told Bela he wanted to go shopping – that was a mystery to Ethan. Not one that merited listing down in his mind map and adding to his task list, but a mystery nonetheless.
With how much the Duke seemed to know about Ethan and his unfortunate circumstances, it was clear to Ethan that the merchant was far from normal. Ethan would even go so far as to hypothesize that the man had some sort of moldy advantage which made him so observant and nearly omniscient. Maybe some kind of weird hivemind-like connection to every other mold-infected creature in the vicinity. It would certainly explain some things.
What struck Ethan just as much was his advice, peculiarly worded as it was. Sure – he had little choice down here but to be patient with Bela. The alternative was less improvements to his accommodations, and probably living from blackout to blackout between feedings.
The idea of talking to Bela while she was fresh from a feeding was odd, but Ethan felt it seemed appropriate as well. The snippets of information about Rose were all given by Bela shortly after she'd taken his blood. That was when she was at her gentlest, with that dreamy look in her eyes. It was worth a shot trying to siphon another update from Bela during their next feeding. That had kind of been his plan all along – except for one problem.
That third feeding was seemingly being postponed. Ethan figured Bela just didn't want to taste Daniela's spit in his system since the feeding was so recent – but it was anybody's guess really. It was difficult to say why Bela didn't ask to feed from him when she'd clearly been tempted to do so earlier. I'm not hungry made for a pretty poor excuse.
Ethan lacked the mental capacity to brainstorm all the whys behind Bela's actions (or inaction) at the moment. The blood Daniela took from his system hadn't been a concerning amount, but it was still enough to keep him a little woozy. It led Ethan to kick back and unwind for the time being. He got comfortable on the mattress, leaning his back on the cool stone wall. With one of his fresh pencils, he began a rough sketch of his latest unlikely acquaintance – the Duke.
The minutes ticked by, and Ethan focused on his art. Running his pencil along the page was a nearly meditative experience with how easy it was to tune out the world around him. The dungeon was exceptionally silent, almost maddeningly so, especially when trying to sleep. Tunnel-visioning on his sketch of the Duke made it easy to wash out the quiet ring in his ears from the deafening silence.
That was how Ethan nearly missed the mechanical whirring.
He paused, eyes peering up from behind his journal. That sound of quiet machinery – the same sound he'd heard in the dining room yesterday – it was here now in the dungeon. It stopped just as Ethan began swiveling his head about in the effort to detect the source – almost like whatever it was had realized that it risked being spotted.
With a grunt, Ethan leaned over to his nearby oil lantern, adding fuel to the fire. The dancing flame within grew, casting more light to his surroundings. The sound restarted – like a fine motor at work, Ethan realized. There was a shadow behind the cell door, less than a foot in length and barely over a couple inches tall. It disappeared around the corner before he could get a better look at it. Ethan would have guessed it to be a rat if it weren't for the accompanying sound, and the rigid form it took.
The recent revelations informed Ethan's guess of what it could have been. The stragglers in the village, or more realistically Chris and his goon squad, might be behind this – perhaps they sent in a probe or a drone of some kind.
What it was that Chris wanted with Ethan after murdering his wife – that was another goddamn mystery to the man's name. It was likely that Chris was surveilling the castle's different levels, perhaps in preparation of a raid. If that were the case, then it would be Ethan's ticket out of the castle. The BSAA's firepower was a force to be reckoned with. It would easily strike the fear of God into Miranda's heart.
Alas – as the Duke had pointed out in his cryptic warning – Chris and his forces appeared to be holding fast for the time being. If they had the means and the reason to storm the castle and the rest of the village, they would have done so by now.
That meant Chris had a reason for lying in wait instead of going in guns blazing. Maybe they lacked the backup, manpower, and ordnance to do serious damage – after all, Ethan recalled it was a team of less than ten, Chris included, that had acted as the Winters family's protection detail. They were the same team that had ultimately torn his family apart, but that was a heart wrenching headache to deal with another time.
Ethan rolled the pencil between his fingers with unease. The idea of Chris' goons raiding the village was one thing – them storming the castle was another. After the time Ethan spent here, he wasn't sure what to do with himself when the bullets started flying. There were a few constants and certainties, such as finding Rose and trying to escape, whether or not Chris put Ethan in his crosshairs.
But escaping wasn't Ethan's only concern now.
What would happen to Bela if the might of the BSAA descended upon the castle?
Objectively, the entire Dimitrescu House had clearly racked up their share of bloody sins to their name. The number of Moroaice populating the dungeons was reason enough to seal the castle's fate under the wrath of a bunker buster bomb.
But Ethan's objective lenses had been cracked in the time he spent with Bela. Sure, she was complicit in the bloody atrocities this castle had seen. But there was still a knot that formed in Ethan's stomach at the idea of the bitter cold finding Bela, and the BSAA stomping her out of existence with extreme prejudice.
Ethan rubbed at his tired face. It was too much to consider – especially since these were just hypotheticals. Hell, Ethan didn't even know for sure if that was a drone he'd seen escaping around the corner.
He'd deal with all those clusterfucks when he got there – if he even lived long enough to deal with them.
Ethan found that Bela was comfortable in his space.
His space was, of course, four walls and a door, but it was his space, nonetheless. It was space that Bela moved around in with a certain unguarded sway to her movements – a casualness that could only be born from familiarity.
It was easier not to think about how and why that familiarity grew between them. It was far easier watching Bela close the distance between them with a meal tray precariously balanced in each arm.
All it took was her polite query of, "May I?" and down she went sitting on his mattress. Ethan took one tray for himself, and Bela posted up next to him, barely two feet away. In a manner that was no longer alien or jarring to witness, Bela pulled his fur blanket up and over her lap before setting her tray down.
No alarm bells rang in Ethan's skull at the sight of Bela sitting down in bed with him. She was close enough to reach, should he try.
Close enough for Ethan to catch the whiff of fresh bread which seemed to cling to her hair.
It was a comforting scent – the bread, of course.
(He was losing his fucking mind.)
If Ethan put his woozy brain into it, he could justify it to himself – this was all just a natural reaction. How was he supposed to react in the face of Bela's largely kind and considerate nature? How was he supposed to not associate her with comfort?
Bela could run her mouth all she wanted about how he was a keg of premium quality blood – that hardly mattered.
Or maybe it should.
But to Ethan, the only thing that did matter was that Bela didn't make him feel hopeless. Bela didn't make him wish for a quick, painless death. Against all odds, Bela made him feel there was a chance of a better tomorrow. A future free of cages, and blood, and death. He was getting out of here with Rose, one way or another.
His head was fucked to kingdom come – Ethan was vaguely aware of it. He knew the growing, conflicting feelings he had were irrational. Yet as irrational as they were, he couldn't help but feel they were the most sensible damn things he could hold onto. If that was what it took to get out of here alive – with Rose – then he'd be as irrational as he needed to be.
To break the (admittedly comfortable) silence between them, Ethan gestured to the unexpected meal before him. "This is… not local food."
Bela smiled, looking decidedly sheepish as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "My knowledge of American cuisine is limited, and I do not have the ingredients for pancakes on hand. Hence, I kept it simple."
Sitting atop Ethan's plate was a big, juicy burger, served with a side of French fries. The cuts of potato were thick; too large for a conventional fry, but too thin to be considered a wedge. They were fried to a golden-brown crisp.
The buns appeared thick and fluffy, toasted just so slightly at the edges. The lettuce and tomatoes were fresh and glistening with a thin sheen of condensation as a result of the burgers' warmth. The patties – it was a double-decker – were almost ridiculously thick; a gamey aroma – lamb, Ethan guessed – wafted from the meat. The cheese, warm caramel in color, melted on top of the patties, spilling over to the sides.
Ethan's stomach grumbled in anticipation.
Picking a fry up, Ethan turned it over – inspecting it in a little too much detail.
From the corner of his eye, Bela bit her lip as she watched him. She was embroiled in anticipation of her own – for his feedback that she seemed to get such a kick out of.
Never one to give Bela an easy time, Ethan dragged it out. He scrutinized the fry, squinting at it to eyeball every ridge and bump. As the seconds ticked by, and Ethan made a show of sniffing the French fry, Bela finally snapped.
"Just take a bite of the damn thing!"
Ethan cracked a half-smile and relented.
The fry was as deliciously salty as he expected. Smacking his lips, Ethan remarked, "Not bad."
Bela's sharp eyes remained fixed to him, hanging onto his words. He figured that was his cue to try the burger next. As he picked it up, he felt the need to ask, "So, why are we going American for lunch?"
"I figured that perhaps you were growing tired of our local cooking. That, and…" Bela paused to take a breath and shrug in an attempt at nonchalance, "I thought it may make you feel at home."
It tugged at Ethan's heartstrings more than he expected it to. He wasn't sure if it was her sincere delivery or the kind sentiment itself; he was moved either way. Bela's reasons for going out of her way to be nice to him may have been murky at best, but Ethan felt nearly indebted to her for it.
Indebted to his captor. That was rich.
To avoid dwelling on it, Ethan bit into the burger. It ushered in a delightful, savory mix of flavors he hadn't even realized he was missing so much. The freshness of the veggies, the gaminess of the meat, and the tanginess of the cheese all combined to make an absolutely delectable, kickass burger.
Ethan could close his eyes in that moment and be back in some gourmet restaurant in California – the kind of fancy place where buying a bottle of water cost as much as a whole meal at a fast-food joint.
The satisfied hum came out on its own accord, earning a wide grin from Bela. Ethan nodded approvingly as he chewed, swallowed, and admitted, "Goddamn, this is some serious gourmet shit."
Through her smile, Bela winced and remarked, "Not quite the phrasing I expected, but thank you."
Ethan was too busy digging in with his second bite to respond immediately. Food in this castle was such a treat; it blew Ethan's mind. When Bela first locked him up, he'd expected to be an emaciated husk within days – if he even survived over a day. Now – shit, Ethan wouldn't be surprised if he started putting on weight over the coming days. The Dimitrescu Kitchen would earn a solid five stars on DoorDash, provided they didn't murder or imprison every delivery guy to pass through the gates.
It was about halfway through the massive burger that Ethan's hunger began to be sated. The last bits of wooziness from Daniela's feeding subsided. It allowed Ethan to pause his scarfing down of the burger to recall, "The other day, you said you like cooking, baking. Helps you unwind – right?"
Bela looked up at Ethan. She was mid-bite through her second double-patty burger. She chewed properly, covering her mouth with a dainty hand as she did so. Ethan took that moment to admire the woman's capacity to wolf down a meal. He'd thought his own burger was huge – seeing Bela go through two of them was a sight to behold. In the time it took him to consume half his burger, Bela had already started on her second.
Awe aside, it did line up with their conversation a day prior – of how much Bela needed to eat in order to hit her nutritional requirements without consuming blood. It had been over a day since Bela had last latched onto his neck. It was still a wonder when she planned on going for her third bite. If Bela was waiting for something, Ethan was clueless as to what that was.
"Yes," Bela cleared her throat. "Right."
"I'm sure the local cooking classes aren't open to vampire bug-girls –"
"Not a vampire," Bela interjected.
"– so, I gotta ask," Ethan continued, unperturbed, "Where'd you learn to cook? This beats anything I could cook. I mean – that's a low bar, but still."
Bela's golden eyes darted away for a moment, and a soft furrow formed at her brow. "Why do you ask?"
It was easier to feign innocence this time around – because it was genuine interest which prompted Ethan to broach the subject. The previous times he'd pried into her past were different. They were born of the desire to learn more so as to somehow use it against her. Now, Ethan was simply blown away by her cooking skills. It was purely conversational that he'd asked the question. Any prevalent information to the bigger picture would just be an added bonus.
"Just making conversation, Bela." With what Ethan hoped was an encouraging smile, he added, "Whoever it is that taught you to cook, I owe them my thanks."
Bela regarded him for some time, pinning him down with her warm, golden eyes. They met his own, before wandering his face, as if searching – trying to uncover any shred of dishonesty. The rise and fall of her chest grew deep, like she was making the conscious effort to steady herself. She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip in that familiar, thoughtful expression.
Just when Ethan thought Bela was going to deflect the subject, she set her burger down. She shifted slowly – taking care to balance the tray on her lap – and faced him better.
Bela released a deep sigh. Not one of any apparent sadness or remorse. On the contrary, she looked almost lighter having let it out.
"There were three things that made my grump of a father smile: me, my mother, and food." The warmth in Bela's smile made her look like a flower in bloom. "Mother loved to see father smile."
The idea of Lady Dimitrescu being anything other than a strict ice queen who ruled her castle with an iron fist was a strange one. It was almost as strange as –
Ethan blinked.
"Wait – your father?" Ethan's hand hovered off his tray for a second; he consciously suppressed the instinct to reach for Bela, settling instead on wiping his hands to keep them busy.
The slightest crease formed on Bela's tattooed forehead. Ethan could just barely register the melancholy that tinted her smile as she nodded.
Over the past few days, there had not been a single mention of a Lord Dimitrescu. Nobody – not Bela, not the Lady herself – none of them mentioned a patriarch to the family line.
Ethan didn't know jack shit about Romanian royalty and nobility. The closest well of knowledge he could draw on was having watched half a season of Game of Thrones – and that wasn't set in fantasy Romania, or even remotely known for historical accuracy. But, if his assumption was correct, then the Lord Dimitrescu was supposed to be the head of the house. He should have been present at that tribunal with the other lords of the village. The fact Lady Dimitrescu was handling matters with Miranda gave the impression that the Lord Dimitrescu was no longer connected to the family.
With a lick of his lips, Ethan tried to be tactful in his approach, "Your mother, uh – Lady Dimitrescu," He still stumbled over the pronunciation of that, "She's married?"
Bela's frown deepened for a moment, then a look akin to recognition crossed her features. She gave a humorless chuckle and shook her head. "No."
Ethan blinked once more.
Was Bela… a child out of wedlock? Was she even the Lady's biological daughter? It wasn't something Ethan had put a great deal of thought into over his stay. The fact the castle matriarch was nine feet tall, and that her daughters could turn into swarms of flies – these were much, much more concerning matters than pondering their biological, familial bond.
Although now that Ethan thought about it, there was a noticeable lack of resemblance. Coupled with the Lady's jet-black hair, Bela's golden blonde, Cassandra's deep brown, and Daniela's lively red – well, Ethan didn't need to be well versed in genetics to tell that it didn't add up.
Going off her last response, Ethan asked, "No, as in like… not anymore?" He spoke slowly and clearly, as if doing so would avoid spooking her. As if Bela had any business being spooked by a man-thing she could dismantle with her eyes closed. "Is your dad out of the picture?"
The melancholy in Bela's smile was unmistakable as she huffed – an approximation of a laugh, but sounding more like a dejected scoff. "He has been out of the picture for a long time. Just as long as my mother has."
"Oh…" Ethan blinked and took all of two seconds for it to sink in. "Oh."
Ethan leaned in a fraction, eyes widening in recognition. "You mean – your mother and father from…" There wasn't any clear and polite way to say pre-bloodsucker life, so he erred on the side of caution, "From before?"
Bela teemed with nervous energy as she avoided his gaze. Her throat flexed with a gulp, and her fingers fidgeted atop her meal tray. Finally, she nodded – subtly enough that if Ethan blinked, he would have missed it.
"Before…" Ethan's head was ready to begin spinning at the revelation. "Bela, your life from… how much do you remember from before?"
The little nod that the blonde had given was the first direct confirmation that she recalled something from her mortal life.
Alas, it looked like that was all he was getting.
With a shake of her head, Bela spoke softly, "I'm sorry. Could we please talk about something else?"
He tried just the same, "Bela –"
"Ethan – I answered your question," She snapped. "Let us leave it at that."
Sensitive topic. Understandably so.
There was an undoubtable slew of complicated emotions which Bela likely had to contend with. Having no memories of her normal past would probably be a mercy compared to actually remembering things. Because then there was the knowledge of a life free of moldy bug swarms and man-blood.
It couldn't be easy to reconcile those two versions of herself.
One version who transformed into an amorphous swarm of bugs, drank human blood for sustenance, and participated in an untold amount of wanton slaughter.
And one version who had a grumpy father, a caring mother, and (if he was right) dedicated her life to caring for others as some sort of doctor.
There was no need to pressure Bela now to open up some more. This was already more headway than he'd expected in such a short amount of time. Pandora's box was open now, and it would only be a matter of time until Bela gave him more insight into her past. Things were going all according to plan.
Ethan could pat himself on the back and pretend he was a mastermind who had envisioned this moment from the start.
But for now, Ethan respected the boundaries Bela set. She was avoiding his gaze now, and the unmistakable twinkle of sadness was evident in her eyes. Ethan's hand moved with a mind of its own when it landed atop Bela's arm. It was a more conscious move when he gave her a gentle squeeze – an attempt at reassurance.
When it was that he developed the instinct to make Bela feel better, Ethan wasn't sure. The desire to make his captor feel better probably wasn't right – not that Ethan particularly cared about right or wrong at the moment.
"I'm sorry for prying." Ethan's thumb mimicked the unseen patterns Bela often traced on his skin. With a quiet breath, he added, "But thanks."
A perplexed frown found its way to Bela's face. She looked at him now, head slightly tilted. "For what?"
"For trusting me with that – about your parents and… before. I'm sure it's not easy to talk about. I appreciate it." Ethan gave her arm a final pat before withdrawing his hand.
Bela's sullen smile persisted, as did that morose look in her eyes. In a way that Ethan would never be able to properly articulate, it just didn't sit right by him. Bela had gone through the effort of whipping up this meal (and all the others) to make him feel at home. In return, he trudged up memories of her bug-free past. While the memories themselves probably weren't sad, the fact that those days were long gone probably was.
"You know, Mia's dad was great in the kitchen." Ethan went on a semi-related tangent. It was enough to get Bela's attention. "He wasn't like, professionally a chef or anything. But shit," Ethan chuckled, "That guy was a wizard when it came to food. Mia learned everything she knew from him."
With a grimace, Ethan recalled, "The first time I had them over for dinner was a disaster."
Bela perked up at that. He could see her imagination running rampant behind her eyes, likely picturing the sort of fuck up he caused in front of his in-laws. Whatever it was Bela imagined, it was enough to pierce the veil of sadness that had draped over her.
"That's not surprising," Bela remarked with a teasing glint in her smile, "You do seem like a very disaster-full man."
"Shut up." Ethan's reply earned a sharp laugh from his companion.
"Enlighten me. What disaster did you cause, little one?" Bela prompted, before resuming working on her burger.
Ethan counted on his fingers, "Forgot to set a timer for the oven. Burned the chicken. Burned the potatoes. Forgot to pick up the wine from the store… we had to order in dinner that night."
Bela bit back her grin to ask, "Is there anything you got right?"
"Well…" Ethan raised his brows and shrugged, "They let me marry their daughter even after the food crimes I committed. So, I guess I got something right."
After meticulously wiping her mouth, Bela began gesturing towards the top of her head – pantomiming a hat, Ethan realized. "That reminds me of mother's own cooking."
Her second mother then.
"Yeah?" Ethan nodded in between bites of his own food.
"There was a time we had a shortage of servants." Bela had a sly look to her as she recalled, "Mother tried to make us breakfast."
Ethan found Bela's grin was contagious. He could feel it spreading to him from behind his goblet of water as she went on, "To this day, the scorch marks on our frying pan have yet to wash out."
It was one of the first of many times that their laughter intermingled, filling the otherwise silent dungeon air.
Despite Bela's impressive start with her meal, Ethan eventually finished slightly ahead of her. Noticing the bountiful side of fries she still had, Ethan took the liberty of snatching a few from her plate.
Bela shot him a dirty look in return. "Still hungry?"
After chewing the stolen fries, Ethan countered, "Hey, you're one to talk. You got double my serving. I'm sure you won't miss a couple of fries."
Bela could only glare at him as he stole a few more pieces, ate them, and then wiped his hands clean.
"Reminds me of Mia's appetite," Ethan mused aloud. Even before the mold infected their systems, Mia's appetite rivaled his own. Nobody as small and petite as that woman had any right to be able to eat so damn much.
"You speak of her often." Bela stated it as a fact – a neutral observation.
In the rush of the past few days, there hadn't been any time to properly mourn his late wife. Things had gone from bad to worse in the blink of an eye, and now he was stuck in the underbelly of this castle for the foreseeable future.
"Things happened really fast, Bela." Ethan set his meal tray down on the floor. He leaned back on the stone wall and looked at Bela's face, illuminated by the dancing lamplight. "I guess it's just cathartic to talk about her. Makes her feel… alive, I guess."
"Alive in your memories?"
It both hurt and soothed Ethan's heart to tell stories about Mia. It was the closest he'd get to being able to mourn her.
"Yeah," Ethan sighed.
Bela wiped her hands clean and placed her tray down next to Ethan's. She shifted to face him and asked, "Do you have any other photos of her?"
It was out of some leftover defensiveness that prompted Ethan to ask, "Why?"
With slow, languid movements, Bela scooted closer. Her warm, golden eyes fixed him in place the entire time. She spoke softly, as if speaking any louder would disturb the tranquility of his cell. "I'd like to help you keep her memory alive."
There she went again tugging on his heartstrings.
It was easy for Ethan to reach over and pick up his journal. "I think I got a couple more here."
By the time he turned back to face Bela, it dawned on him just how close she was sitting. He could make out every minute detail of the symbol tattooed on her forehead. He could count each and every delicately curled eyelash she batted at him. He could smell the scent of freshly baked bread, still clinging tirelessly to her hair and her clothes.
"Yes?" Bela asked, and only then did he realize he'd been staring.
"Ah – nothing." Ethan cleared his throat. "I should have a picture here somewhere."
As he cracked his journal open, he kept it, somewhat awkwardly, tucked close to his body. Bela watched him with curious eyes, and he took care not to flash the pages of his journal to her. The contents were, after all, quite sensitive. It would do no good for Bela to see all his maps.
Or worse – the portrait he drew of her.
He moved through the pages quickly, ensuring Bela didn't get a particularly good look at any one page. After passing over the family photo Bela had seen before, Ethan withdrew a second picture.
The polaroid was tinted with a warm orange glow as the afternoon sun beat down on Ethan, Mia, and Rose. The gentle waves of the beach rolled along the sandy banks they walked across. Ethan carried Rose atop his shoulders, supporting her weight with his – then intact – left hand. With Ethan's right, he held Mia's hand as they strolled along. Mia's dark hair billowed in the breeze, and she held a large sunhat in her free hand – just a little bit reminiscent of Lady Dimitrescu's own sizeable hat.
Ethan could still remember the moment the photo had been snapped – by goddamn Chris of all people. The guy looked ridiculous in his Hawaiian shirt and those khaki shorts – which of course, concealed his firearm and several mags.
He held onto the polaroid for a moment longer before extending it to Bela. There was no hesitation to his movements. It was worlds apart from when he'd felt violently defensive to see Bela holding his other family photo.
Bela took it into her hands with all the care and respect in the world. She glided a fingertip across the glossy surface as she admired it. "What sort of photo is this? It is the first I've seen that looks like this."
Racking through his memories, Ethan realized any pictures adorning the walls of the castle were paintings. Any photos he may have seen were black and white. The polaroid he handed Bela was also different from the other family photo she'd seen before.
"It's a polaroid," Ethan explained. "The camera prints the pic out right after it's taken."
With an interested hum, Bela asked, "Where was this taken?"
"Sicily," Ethan recalled. "We were in Italy on vacation last summer."
"It looks beautiful," Bela remarked.
If Ethan had his phone with him, he would have gladly shown more pictures of the beachside.
"How was your vacation with Mia and little Rose?"
Ethan gazed at the polaroid as he began, "We rented out this small cottage by the beach, so it was a kinda private thing." He found a smile forming on his lips as he went on, "Mia was just happy to get out of Romania. She'd always say, it's a beautiful country, but the weather is killer."
"Mia would be correct," Bela remarked with dry humor.
Laughing, Ethan continued, "Yeah. Back home, Mia was from Texas, and we lived in California for some time – so, she was really way more used to hot weather. Italy was a much-needed return to the warmth."
"Sounds nice."
"It was, yeah." Ethan nodded, "I think Rose liked the heat more too… the trip itself wasn't too eventful," As Ethan recalled, he wore a slight grimace, "I got my ass stung by a jellyfish, but at least Mia and Rosie enjoyed. Mia got a tan, and Rose played in the sand for the first time.
Bela bit down on her bottom lip for a beat, curious eyes going from him, to the polaroid, and back again. At his nod, Bela asked, "What is it like at the beach itself?"
Ethan felt pinned in place by those clear amber eyes. It struck him in a way he couldn't describe as the realization set in – that Bela (and likely her sisters) had never set foot outside the immediate vicinity. They may have been able to roam the nearby forests and villages in the summer, but clearly they'd never left the country – hell, they probably never saw past the current mountainous region. In a way, they were prisoners to the land, just as he was a prisoner to this dungeon.
An odd, probably misplaced, feeling rumbled within Ethan. There was a drive he felt. An urge to share the world beyond with Bela, because her nature robbed her of the opportunity to do so.
Ethan was never a wordsmith in any shape or form, but he tried for Bela's sake. "You see the horizon stretching out farther than the eye can see. This like… orange glow meets the blue sea in a way that's just…" He felt like a jackass trying to sound poetic. Bela watched and listened intently with a slight tilt of her head. "It's beautiful. The waves ripple on towards the beach, and carry the salty smell of the sea with it."
Bela's eyes closed, and Ethan could see her picturing the scene he was describing to her. "There's the seagulls flying above and they won't shut up – they never do," He went on as Bela giggled, "The waves crash down a little gently, and there are these grooves in the sand where the water lands before pulling back to the sea."
"What does sand feel like?" Bela's voice was soft, as to not disturb the image she was conjuring.
Ethan smiled at the serene expression on Bela's face. "When it's dry, it's soft. Almost like powder. When it gets wet it's… it clumps together like mud but smoother and finer."
"It's peaceful out there," Ethan muttered, "Makes it easy to forget all the stuff weighing you down."
Bela's eyes fluttered open. She smiled as she admitted, "I think I would like to experience that someday."
"Well, if I ever get out of here," Ethan gave a dry chuckle, "You should tag along on my next vacation."
"I'll hold you to that." Bela wagged a finger at him.
The idea was an endearing one, if not a little strange. His stomach gave the slightest flutter at the thought of it.
He could imagine the sun bearing down on him, casting its invigorating warmth as he padded along the damp beachhead with bare feet. He could taste the salty air on his tongue as the gently rolling waves washed in. He could see little Rose sitting next to a sandcastle of her own making – bearing a striking resemblance to Castle Dimitrescu. It was a no-brainer who helped her build it.
Ethan could see Bela standing up, but not before giving Rose an affectionate pat on her blonde head. He could picture Bela's curvy figure in a dark bikini; her pale skin was flushed pink from the sun's kiss, and she beamed at him, hand extended in invitation.
The thought was purged as quickly as it had come.
He was losing his mind.
Days passed.
Ethan didn't think it was possible, but the semblance of a routine was beginning to form.
In the mornings, Ethan would wake up to find a meal tray usually already slipped into his cell. The food would still be hot and fresh, indicative of the very recent drop off. Each time, without fail, a small note could be found underneath the plate of food. Written on fine stationery in neat, looping handwriting, Bela would have a message for him.
They were usually short, polite little notices to inform Ethan that she wouldn't be around until the coming hours – family calls and whatnot. Sometimes, the note would include a fact or two about the oftentimes traditionally Romanian breakfasts prepared for him. The note would be slipped into the pages of his journal shortly after.
Not long after was when Bela made her usual appearance, bearing a cup (or mug) of coffee in each hand. Ethan soon learned that breakfast was when the Dimitrescu family was most often complete in attendance. That explained why she seldom joined him in the early mornings. Though there were the occasional instances Ethan woke up just as his meal was being slid through the slot in his door.
The culprit was usually a servant – Zoria, or one of the others – but sometimes, it was Bela. She took the time to personally deliver his meal before slipping off to join her family. In those instances, with sleep still clouding his judgment and his senses, the sight of Bela was an exceedingly warm one. In the dim light of the dungeon, Ethan could catch sight of her bright smile, and hear the whisper of good morning. Bela would then disappear in a swarm of fluttering wings before he could get a word in.
Apparently, Lady Dimitrescu was a busy woman. If Chris was running around disrupting Miranda's operations, then it made sense that the heads of the village had their hands full. It ensured that the castle matriarch was rarely around in the late mornings, all the way to the evening.
Daniela was more of a shut-in than Ethan had expected – Bela recounted how her youngest sister sometimes had to be reminded to eat. As a result, Ethan had yet to encounter Daniela for another feeding. Cassandra was supposedly less of a loner than she was being now. Bela explained that her middle sibling was acting up after their argument, and was spending more time alone than the prior winters. Bela was convinced it was a bad thing, but Ethan was just glad to be away from the sadistic bug-woman.
Taking all that into consideration, it meant that Bela almost always joined Ethan for lunch. He didn't so much as bat an eye anymore when Bela cozied up on his mattress, sitting close by. Though a table would certainly have been preferable, eating with meal trays on their laps got the job done. The food was good, and the company even better. He couldn't complain.
Conversation was easy between them. It was difficult as always to properly mourn Mia, so he settled for the next best thing – talking about her and keeping her memory alive. Bela was a good listener, and never failed to encourage him to speak of his late wife.
Growing closer to Bela was something Ethan tried not to think too much about. It was just one of those things he had to let happen. His rocky sanity was a necessary sacrifice. It got him under Bela's defenses, and one step closer to securing Rose and getting out.
His lunch dates with Bela were doing said sanity no favors though. Yet Ethan knew he wouldn't turn her company down given the chance – and Bela did give him plenty of opportunities to do so. He could always say no to spending lunch together. He was free to decline the opportunity to walk with Bela. Ethan did neither.
Their walks, or walkies, as Bela would obnoxiously say, took place either before or after lunch. Those were the safest times to go out, Bela had explained. It was when her sisters were most likely to be couped up in their respective rooms, minding their own business, while her mother was guaranteed to be out of the castle premises.
They linked their arms together as they always did – a precaution, Bela would say – and off they went. The great hall was typically their first destination. Bela enjoyed stopping by the fireplace to get warm; the dungeon was rather chilly, after all. The first few times they lingered, Ethan felt no shortage of anxiety when they stopped at the great hall. They dallied out in the open while Bela warmed her hands in front of the crackling fire. Ethan awkwardly turned his head this way and that, keeping a lookout for Bela's sisters on the prowl.
No vaguely humanoid-shaped swarm of bugs descended upon them. Even if it felt like it was only a matter of time before they did, the sisters never appeared. Ethan taught himself to consciously relax – just by a little bit. While the healthy paranoia would likely pay off some day, he also had to learn to breathe easy and just enjoy the opportunity to stretch his legs.
They didn't cover a whole lot of ground on their walks. Usually, the two main halls were their destinations. Other times, they stopped by the bedchamber where Ethan had nearly been strung up on meat hooks. He'd gotten a kick out of glaring at Bela the first time they stepped into the room. Bela, flustered and defensive, had reminded him that it was because of her that he wasn't bled dry on those hooks.
Together, they killed time sitting by the bedchamber's fireplace. Their conversations and bickering carried on, as they always did. At times, Ethan told Bela of the finer points of his job as a systems engineer – which Bela took as her opportunity to brand him as a nerd.
Other times, Bela vaguely hinted at her past. She never got into the details, but Ethan didn't fault her for that. It was clearly a sensitive thing for her. She only ever talked about it in passing, which gave Ethan snippets of a bigger picture.
A brief conversation about firearms revealed that Bela's father was a soldier. Whether he'd fought in the Great War or World War II was a mystery to Ethan.
The topic of food introduced Ethan to Bela's favorite – Frigănele – which her mother masterfully prepared. From her description, it sounded like the local equivalent of French Toast. Though when Ethan had alluded to that, Bela had nearly smacked him for his insolence. She'd gone on to insist that they were not the same thing.
When Ethan mentioned the desolate state of the village, Bela had commented that she had seen it go through worse. Considering that there wasn't a soul alive left in the village – save for Chris or whoever – Ethan deduced that Bela was a local through and through. Whether she was referencing the wars, or the brutality of the regime that rose in the aftermath, it was hard to say.
By the time the stories died down, Ethan would be escorted back to his cell. Bela would be on her way, and he would be left to his own devices for the time being.
He found himself napping often. After lunch and the short walks with Bela, there was little else to do to keep himself busy.
Ethan would take pen to paper and recount the day's activities in his journal. An occasional sketch would be drawn, if his creative juices needed some release. Other times, he would go over the maps he'd been drafting. The dungeon was nearly perfectly mapped out now, and Ethan was slowly forming a more accurate picture of the first floor. When he wasn't doing any of that, he'd catch some shuteye. Sleep didn't come so easy at night, thanks to his nightmares – so he was always in need of extra rest in the form of short, dreamless naps.
By the time he'd stir from his afternoon naps, there would be a fresh meal tray in his cell, accompanied by a note. As usual, they were delivered either personally by Bela, or one of the servants. Bela seldom joined Ethan in the early evenings. As was the case with breakfast, the Dimitrescu Family was typically in complete attendance for dinner. The solitude made Ethan antsy, but it was also time to get his thoughts in order.
The aftermath of dinner was usually a quiet affair. Some nights, Ethan spent alone and embroiled in his mind, which was always a mixed bag.
The opportunity to think in peace and quiet inevitably led to overthinking. The overthinking would lead to brooding and doubt and depression without fail. All his shortcomings as a husband and a father – they clawed at him mercilessly like a rat in a cage. He could never pull himself out of that rut, try as he might. Replaying Bela's words in his head – practically absolving him of his failures – that didn't work. It didn't feel right to tell himself he was a good father. He didn't believe it when the words came from himself.
Other nights, Bela joined him. Not for his treasured blood, but for his company. It had been days and days now since Bela's last feeding.
Ethan glanced over at Bela one such night. She'd flitted into his cell with a pair of books tucked into the crook of her elbow. With usual courtesy, she'd asked permission to join him. As always, Ethan had obliged.
Bela sat on one side of the mattress. She had a hardcover book cracked open on her lap – one of the books she'd purchased from the Duke. In her hands was a smaller notebook, on which she scribbled notes.
Ethan sat towards the top of his bed, with his back to the stone wall as he faced his companion.
His captor, rather.
He was forgetting to correct himself these days.
Bela's features were rich with expression while she took notes. Brows knit with frustration when confused, or if her pen ran low on ink. A curious twinkle lit up her amber eyes when happening upon a particularly interesting paragraph. The corners of her dark lips quirked slightly in contentment when she inevitably found whatever it was she was looking for in the books.
It would have been a waste not to sketch the animated expressions Bela unwittingly wore as she read. How often did one get a live model as reference for drawing, after all? It's not like Ethan had anything better to do, anyway.
Minutes ticked by. They gave way to hours, as they always did in the quiet evenings with Bela. A glance at Ethan's clock revealed it was eleven in the evening. This was usually the time Bela took her leave.
Almost on cue, Bela began speaking without looking up from her notebook. "You have worked that pencil down to its nub, Ethan."
With a nervous lick of his lips, Ethan checked and found that his pencil had indeed been run ragged. He anticipated the next question before Bela even got the words out, "What have you been doing in that journal?"
Golden eyes peered at him curiously as Bela regarded him with a tilt of her head. She closed her books, setting them to the side before shifting – preparing to take a peek at his journal.
"Me?" Ethan asked lamely, "Nothing."
That familiar mischief crossed Bela's features, and he knew he was a goner. She got on her knees – ready to lunge and grab the book if need be. Her fingers flexed at her sides in anticipation. "What have you got there?"
"Nah – it's nothing," Ethan shrugged it off. His thumb brushed along the edges of the pages – hoping to flip over to something more innocuous than his doodles of Bela's concentrated expressions.
Bela smiled playfully as she demanded, "Let me see!'
His finger dug into the space between two pages, and he flipped – just as Bela's swift hand made to grab for the journal. The book spread open to reveal the first portrait he drew of Bela. It took her all of two seconds to register the face on the journal she now held.
It still astounded Ethan how pink Bela's cheeks could get. Her pallid complexion took such a lively color whenever she blushed.
Her lips parted for a second, moving ever so slightly – like she wanted to get the words out. They either stalled flat on her tongue, or she was still trying to deliberately pick them out. Eventually, the sound she produced was a soft, breathy exhale, almost like a laugh. She gently bit down on her smile as her timid eyes glanced at him.
All Ethan could do was grimace. The only thing worse than Bela seeing his sketches of all the expressions she wore while reading, was Bela seeing the portrait he'd meticulously drawn days ago.
There was a poor excuse or two at the tip of his tongue – he'd drawn that to show the cops what his captor looked like. He'd drawn it so if he ever got out, he wouldn't forget the faces he would seek vengeance on.
Instead, he found himself pathetically tongue-tied and unreasonably vulnerable under Bela's gaze.
"This is remarkable, Ethan." Bela smiled in a way that made his insides stir. It wasn't an uncomfortable stirring. She didn't make Ethan's skin crawl in the way that Daniela did. Ethan couldn't pinpoint how Bela made him feel. She just did make him feel things.
"Thanks," Ethan cleared his throat and extended his hand forward to get the journal back. He'd stuff it away and out of sight before she could get the idea to flip the pages and see his latest sketches of her.
Bela's cheeks still burned bright and warm as she added, "I had no idea you were such a talented artist." Her warm eyes were fixed to him even as she handed the journal over.
The compliments were doing Ethan no favors. He cursed his simple-minded body for heating his cheeks up in response to the kind words. Ethan did his best to shed the attention from himself before he got any redder. "I'll draw you another one if you stop fucking smiling at me like that."
Bela raised her hands in a gesture of peace. But she grinned all the wider, this time with that endearing twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Smiling like this?"
Ethan avoided looking at her. He didn't trust his stomach not to do summersaults if he got a look at that damn smile.
He'd lost his mind.
He'd completely lost his mind.
"Get the fuck out of my room, Bela." Ethan did his best to scowl. He was well aware of how his grin lurked just beneath his show of irritation.
Bela giggled and leaned to the side in the attempt to meet his gaze. "Aw… my puppy's so red."
"Fuck off, tapeworm." Ethan grimaced. He gestured towards her face as he added, "You're one to talk."
Bela placed a slender hand to her chest, raising her eyebrows once in a show of appearing appalled. "I am flattered by your portrait – I can't help it. What is your excuse for losing your composure?"
Ethan didn't have the words to verbalize his embarrassment. He'd drawn that portrait to calm down in the aftermath of their standoff by the window. The drawing wasn't supposed to see the light of day – much less be seen by Bela herself. All he could do was narrow his eyes at her in a tight glare and hope it got the message across.
"Your art is nothing to be ashamed of, Ethan." With a teasing wink, Bela added, "Especially when you choose such a beautiful subject to draw."
"Ugh," Ethan grunted in a show of disgust.
It elicited a quiet chuckle from Bela as she regarded him for a moment longer. She reached over to give his arm a squeeze. "It's getting late. I shall take my leave for the evening."
His hand settled atop hers on its own accord.
Both of them had grown increasingly tactile in their contact with one another. A hand on the arm here, and a squeeze of the shoulder there – they were natural movements to both of them in the recent days. The physical contact was no big deal – or at least, Ethan made no fuss over it. There was a sense of comfort he drew from it – from Bela. These were things Ethan tried not to dwell on much. His already dwindling sanity would surely go for another free dive if he tried to dissect his muddled feelings on the matter.
"Good night." Ethan smiled.
Bela's golden eyes looked as warm as honey in the lamplight. They evaded his own while her cheeks retained their pinkish glow.
With how handsy Bela was with Ethan, it was almost endearing – amusing, Ethan corrected himself – seeing her grow timid when he reciprocated her tactile nature.
She held his gaze long enough to get the words out, "Good night." Then she was back to settling her eyes anywhere but his face. She gave him a final squeeze of the arm before she withdrew her hand. Ethan refused to acknowledge the way the fine hairs of his arm stood on end in the absence of her touch.
Bela was packed up and standing before long. Once she was sure she hadn't left anything behind, she flickered past the cell bars. Her form disappeared around the corner with a final parting wave. Ethan listened to the sharp, measured click of her heels. He listened until they grew faint and distant, and finally left earshot. It was only then that Ethan dimmed his oil lantern and settled into bed.
There was that part of him – that frail, needy, human part of him – that wished she stayed longer. Bela's departure meant it was time to face the demons in his sleep. The brutish, hulking wolfmen would chase him until his breath ran ragged. The Moroaice would creep in from the shadows before tearing at him with their rusty weapons. Chris would remind Ethan of how powerless he was by spraying Mia's brains all over his face.
Then, like clockwork, Ethan woke in the throes of his nightmares. He breathed sharply through teeth clenched so hard that it hurt. Mia's name stalled at the back of his tongue, begging to be set free. He never could produce a sound – his throat was wound too tightly to do so. Seconds ticked by slowly – as slow as his goddamn reaction time when bullets snapped through his dining room window.
His knuckles grew white with the force he gripped his sheets. His bloodshot eyes scanned the inky blackness of his cell. Some clarity eventually wormed its way into Ethan's hazy mind. The smell and taste of blood gave way to the stale air of the dungeon.
There was the briefest peace that Ethan felt as realization set in – that it was all a dream. There were no monsters chasing him. He wasn't in mortal danger. Mia didn't get her face splattered by a slew of .45 caliber rounds.
The serenity would be shattered just as briefly as the next wave of recognition dawned on him.
The fur blanket wrapped around him, the mattress tucked into the corner of his cell, the cold air of the underbelly of Castle Dimitrescu – they were worlds away from his warm bedroom, wrapped up in Mia's embrace.
She was gone.
His dreams may have been just dreams, but he was living the nightmare.
Mia was gone. There was no bringing her back. That was a reality.
Through the hot tears he was powerless to suppress, Ethan tossed and turned in the effort to get comfortable. He blanked his mind as best as he could – anything to not think about the lack of a warm body lying in bed next to him. Being hyperaware of Mia's absence only made it harder for sleep to take him again – and only more painful when it finally did.
Then, Ethan was given the slightest break – if it could even be called that. Upon pressing his face into his blanket to wipe his tear-streaked face, Ethan found a familiar smell.
Fresh country bread.
Not at all unlike the scent that clung to Bela's hair as a result of her morning baking.
It may have had the scent of a bakery, but to Ethan, it was much more. It was lighthearted banter. It was a protective arm wrapped around his own. It was fingers entwining with his, grounding him and easing his panic.
Sleep came easy to Ethan not long after.
A/N: Thanks so much for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this chapter and the story thus far, be sure to punch the fave, follow, and bookmark buttons! Shoot me a review to let me know how you found this one, and I'll be sure to leave you a reply soon(TM).
This one was a longboi! Apparently it's the longest chapter thus far, with Clemency (8) and Cogitation (10) as close runner ups. This is my sheer inability to write with a sense of brevity at work. Alas, you fellas have voiced that you like the long chapters anyway, so no problem there, I suppose. This was even supposed to be longer, but I ended up trimming a lot of fat and saving it for later chapters.
Couple of interesting things in this one, I believe. Got a peek at the source of that mechanical whirring, a glimpse into Bela's past over a date-not-date, and the birth of a routine. I truly hope you all enjoyed the slew of content in this meaty chapter.
Initially, I wasn't supposed to go into too much detail over the first totally-not-a-date lunch. But after everyone voiced their excitement to see it, I figured - well, let's flesh it out and see where it goes. The chapter went through some substantial rewriting and editing, but I think it paid off in the end. I was pretty iffy with it, but after all the editing, I'm rather happy with how this one turned out.
Now that we've taken the time to establish what Ethan's routine looks like, we can really start getting into the, ehem, fun stuff. You guys can look forward to that, as I am looking forward to writing that as well.
Shoutout to GRNZLR on AO3 for the inspiration behind Ethan's thoughts of, "Uhh, yeah I totally drew that portrait as a mugshot for the cops to use"
If you guys are a fan of TESV Skyrim, I recently started beta-reading for Angelada's The Bride Wore Red. They've got a super interesting story premise, which I think you fellas will like, considering you like this unhealthy train of Bela and Ethan crashing into each other. The gist is that the Dragonborn (for the Brotherhood) assassinates Vittoria Vici, one thing leads to another, and she repeatedly crosses paths with the late Vittoria's husband, Asgeir. There's gonna be eventual F!Dragonborn x Asgeir, so you can probably imagine how much of a juicy, unconventional path that's gonna take. I implore you to check it out, the author is wicked talented and has much potential. When you do, be sure to follow, fave, review, and all the good stuff. The chapters are nice bite-sized lengths, so it's very easy to read through.
I think that's all I got for the notes here, unless I forgot something (again). I'll catch you guys in about a week's time. Have a lovely week ahead!
