"Shoes off."

Ethan craned his head to the side to look at Daniela. She kept a firm hold of his hand – three dinky fingers and all – to keep his arm slung around her shoulders for support. Quite frankly, he would have fallen over and faceplanted by now if he'd walked all this way without Daniela's assistance.

Perhaps, in hindsight, riling Cassandra up had not been the wisest of decisions. Keeping his cool and not talking shit may have spared his ribs the agony.

On the other hand, that look on Cassandra's face was priceless. To beat Cassandra at her own game was well worth the stabbing pain which each inhale brought.

"Huh?" Ethan managed out through gritted teeth.

"Your shoes are filthy, silly man." Daniela rolled her eyes, and tilted her head towards his legs. "I can't have you tracking your muck all over my library."

After the grueling brawl with Cassandra, the adrenaline had begun to wear off. Just standing up from the floor earlier had required Daniela's assistance. The cut on his cheek – delivered by the unforgiving sharp edges of his pistol – was still trickling blood out at a slow pace. His left eye was half swollen shut from the fist Cassandra pummeled into his face. Still damp blood clung to his nostrils, dripping over his mouth and down his neck.

The simple act of breathing was a painful chore, thanks to what Ethan was quite certain now were broken ribs. With each inhale, no matter how shallow or slow, a sharp, excruciating pain shot out from his back and radiated throughout his entire chest.

All the pain was compounding to hammer a headache down into Ethan's skull. It came in dull throbs with every pulse of Ethan's tired heart. Simply existing was an arduous task at this rate.

At least he could cross a few things off his bucket list:

Watch a vampire faceplant hard enough to skid across the floor.

Wrestle and smack around said vampire.

Break a table with his back, thanks to said vampire. Fuck you, Cassandra.

Though Ethan did have to take a moment to recall what furniture he'd splintered with his back while in the Baker House. There had certainly been no shortage of property destruction while in that hellhole.

But going back, tracking dirt into Daniela's precious library was not currently at the forefront of his mind – especially after all that had transpired.

"Right," Ethan muttered absently. There was little use or reason to protest. These shoes needed drying out.

Hell, they needed replacing, really. After all they'd been through, they deserved a long retirement far away from wolfmen, ghouls, and murderous bug-vampires.

Still using Daniela as an anchor, Ethan took his time prying his shoes off, grunting in effort as he did so. She watched him closely all the while – as if so fascinated by every small movement he went through.

"Socks as well." Daniela added. When Ethan turned his gaze to her once more, she simply batted her dark lashes at him.

With more huffs of exertion, Ethan lifted his feet up one at a time to peel his socks off. They were discarded atop his battered and damp leather shoes. Anticipating Daniela's next request, Ethan stepped onto the mat in front of the ornately carved light wooden door. He diligently wiped and dried his bare feet on the fabric. With any luck, the floor in the library wouldn't be too cold to the touch. His goddamn legs were still chilly as is with how his damn jeans clung to his skin.

"Good boy," Daniela remarked with a pat of his hand and a sickly-sweet smile. Ethan could only grunt softly in response.

If he could go a single hour without a dog-related taunt or pet name, it would be a momentous occasion.

Daniela turned the golden door handle with her free hand. With a push, the door came open, revealing the library within.

The smell was what hit Ethan first – the unmistakably discreet musk of aged books and rather stale air. It coupled with the warm smell of polished wood, and fresher, nearly factory-fresh reams of paper. Ethan could blink then and be back in his college library – necking with Mia in the Biology aisle and trying not to get caught for the third time – risking his scholarship in the process, and Mia's perfect track record.

The actual Dimitrescu Library was worlds away though. It was similar to the University of Texas' library in nothing but odd scent.

A red carpet ran along the perimeter of the square-shaped room. Numerous bookshelves, along ordinary shelves, lined the walls, which were plastered with red patterned wallpaper. Several loveseats and sofas of dark teal cushioning were interspersed between the shelves. Towards the center of the room was a skylight. It was the main source of light in the room – which wasn't saying much, considering how early in the morning it was.

A number of other bookshelves were positioned around the skylight, facing in. White padded armchairs littered the area by the skylight, some directed inward, while others pointed elsewhere. A potted plant or two added a splash of greenery to the room – though they looked as though they had seen better, more watered days.

Glancing upward revealed the mastery that had gone into the design of this room – not unlike all the detail elsewhere in the castle. The reddish wooden panels above were trimmed with sculpted gold moldings. Flowers, vines, and greenery made up the majority of the regal finishing.

In one corner, a desk was tucked away. A typewriter – currently loaded – sat atop the surface. It was joined by countless sheets of paper, blank or otherwise. Others were crumpled into loose balls and left discarded. They littered the surface of the desk, scattered on the floor, and overflowed from the closest trashcan.

The room was… messier than Ethan had expected.

Countless books lied in untidy, disarrayed piles. They crowded the shorter shelves, precariously perched and ready to tumble off. Others filled the miscellaneous nooks and crannies of the library. Other stray, perhaps forgotten books were scattered on the floor itself, along with loose scraps of paper.

At least the bookshelves by the skylight seemed to mostly be in order.

For a castle that employed a reasonably large staff of maids, it was a wonder how this place managed to be in such disorder. Were they being killed off left and right – and so they now lacked the manpower to tidy this nook of the castle?

"Let me just light the candles, then we can begin," Daniela said with a smile which grew giddier by the moment. "Can you stand?"

Ethan blinked once; his swollen eye took its sweet time reopening.

His tired and thoroughly bruised synapses lagged in the face of Daniela's words. Then the connections were made, implications were drawn, and Ethan felt his trigger finger give an involuntary twitch of anticipation.

"Begin what?"

Daniela answered his question with her own, and repeated, "Can you stand?"

Ethan's entire chest felt like it had been run over by a container van. It may as well have been, if said container van was named Cassandra. At the very least, the same could not be said for his legs. "Yeah. I hope so. If not," Ethan's tired voice dripped with weary sarcasm, "You'll know where to find me. On the floor. Not moving."

Without warning, Daniela slipped her arm free from around Ethan. He stepped to the side to catch himself now that his support had abruptly departed. Ethan clutched one hand to his pounding ribcage as he watched Daniela cross the room with quick steps – almost skipping her way through the library. She went around the room's perimeter, giving flame to each candelabra, and lighting every oil lantern in sight.

After ensuring every light source was prepared, she circled around the room another time, in the opposite direction she'd begun. Ethan belatedly realized Daniela was double-checking that each candelabra and lantern was still lit. She watched each light source with hawk-like eyes and far too much scrutiny. Whenever a flame would give a hint of flickering, she'd stop dead in her tracks. She'd wait by the flame's side for a beat longer until it stabilized, and off she went resuming her inspection.

Finally, Daniela returned to Ethan. He remained where he was, standing on unsteady legs by the door. Her skipping came to a stop right in front of him. She clasped her hands together, smiled wide, and leaned forward – thoroughly invading Ethan's personal space. Ethan leaned back in turn, squinting at Daniela as excitement filled her voice. "Before we can have some real fun, I must first get the library in order."

After intimately experiencing Cassandra's definition of real fun, Ethan was more than a little weary of what Daniela's version of this was.

To stave that off a little longer, Ethan looked over Daniela's shoulder – at one pile of haphazardly stacked books on a low shelf.

"That, uh – sounds like a big job," Ethan said, for lack of better input. The library looked like it had seen a brawl as rowdy as his own with Cassandra. Which, in hindsight, maybe it had. Tatyana had mentioned that the last maid had died over a misarranged book. Hopefully that death sentence of a book wasn't part of Daniela and her real fun.

Lord knows which book was worth dying over in this room. His streak of bad luck may climb another notch if he crossed paths with it. Hell, given his current track record, that would probably be the first book he encountered today. At the rate this was going, it was probably going to be something terribly on the nose – like Twilight, or some other sparkly equivalent.

"It is a big job, but it's very important." Daniela's brows furrowed as she narrowed her eyes at Ethan – as if mistaking his perplexity and exhaustion for sarcasm.

Important enough to murder a maid over a book, perhaps. Maybe that was why they didn't clean up in here.

With a breath, Ethan gestured to her with his free hand, "Look, I'd love to give you a hand. But, if you noticed," He then motioned to his own face, "I'm kinda fucked up."

Daniela smiled once more. She gave him a wink, and what might have been a seductive roll of her shoulders. "I think you still look adorable underneath all that blood."

"Thanks, I guess." Ethan shook his head, huffing slightly – even as it sent another ripple of pain through his chest. "Do you have any first aid supplies? Anything it all?"

Ethan watched Daniela purse her lips in thought. She tilted her head as if in serious contemplation, prompting him to add, "I'll help you tidy up, and we can do whatever –" He crinkled his nose in displeasure at the term, "Whatever 'real fun' it is you got in store. But first, I need to patch myself up a little. Please."

With another gesture – this time towards the stacks of books all around them, he added, "I don't really wanna get any blood on your books, okay? Help me out here."

The excitement lit up in Daniela's bright yellow eyes. It was a curious, if not mildly unsettling thing to witness Daniela's swarm of flies perk up along with her shift in emotion. They danced over her head for a beat before rejoining her body. She gave a fervent nod, sending her red head of hair bouncing. "I may have something! Follow me!"

Daniela was off – nearly skipping down the length of the carpet and towards the other side of the room. With pained, slower footsteps, Ethan hobbled after her. There was a door – previously concealed by the bookshelves around the skylight – where Daniela came to a stop. She popped the door open and reached within, where the warm glow of candlelight soon lit up the space. Daniela held the door open for Ethan. With a graceful wave, and a toothy smile, she motioned for him to enter.

It was a bathroom. White marble tiles contrasted the rest of the library proper's wooden flooring. Right by the entrance, a sink rested on top of a granite countertop. Above the sink, a mirror – medicine cabinet and all – was mounted. The room opened up to the left, revealing a rather ornate toilet, with gold trim – as if the whole goddamn castle didn't have enough gold trim.

"Be my guest," Daniela motioned while she stood by the doorway.

There was a moment's hesitation. With how Daniela looked at him, it was a real threat that he may be locked in the bathroom and mauled for what little blood he still had.

But what other choice did he have?

The tiles were cold to the touch, and Ethan tried not to wince at that – a difficult task, given he was cringing and grimacing with every step he took as is. Ethan placed one hand on the countertop to steady himself as he pulled open the cabinet drawers underneath the sink.

Ethan was greeted by several neatly folded hand towels, embroidered with a green letter D. To the side was a spare, well used rag.

"Mind if I take this?" Ethan asked, even as he grabbed hold of the rough fabric.

"Not at all."

Ethan took a moment to turn the faucet and splash his face with warm water. He gave no care for how damp he got his torn and bloody sweater in the process. It was refreshing to get even a smidge of all the muck on his face off. It was easy to forget just how filthy he'd gotten during his brush with death in the lower dungeons. Only a fraction of the blood staining his face was his own. After allowing himself the moment to take in his disheveled and grimy state, his eyes on the reflection focused on Daniela. She leaned against the doorway, one hand on her hip as she watched him closely.

All three of the Dimitrescu sisters had a penchant for looking at him.

When Bela did it, Ethan could see all the gears turning in her head – always analyzing and thinking. There was warmth in her caring gaze that Ethan hadn't felt since – well, since Mia. Bela had a certain way of disarming him with those honey golden eyes of hers.

Under Cassandra's scrutiny, Ethan only felt unease. She pierced him with her stare; with each second that passed under her glare, Ethan could see her envisioning another ten new ways to torment him – and another twenty ways to turn him into a midnight snack. Cassandra was the expression 'if looks could kill' given tangible form.

With Daniela – well, Ethan wasn't so sure what he felt just yet. She smiled and grinned at him far more than any of her sisters. She carried herself with the grace of a dancer, yet skipped around and gestured not unlike a young child. Her big eyes had an abundance of life to them as they followed his every micromovement. He didn't know if she was studying him for any wrong moves, or was just that fascinated by watching him.

Time would tell. And they had a lot of time, considering Ethan was stuck with her until tomorrow.

Still. This beat being stuck with Cassandra for a day.

Hopefully.

Ethan tugged the medicine cabinet open before he could dwell on Daniela's prying eyes any longer. It was she who broke the brief silence first. "What exactly are you looking for?"

The contents within were sparse. A few loose plastic bottles occupied the cabinet. Ethan only gave them a quick glance – noticing that they resembled prescription pill bottles. His actual target was, thankfully, here as well. "Disinfectant."

After all the shit the Bakers put him through, Ethan could at least be grateful for his newfound appreciation of disinfectant. The slick fluid was a lifesaver.

Ethan shook the glass bottle, finding it to barely have any remaining liquid. Beggars – or rather beaten, bloody prisoners – couldn't be choosers, anyway.

As the cabinet shut, and the mirror came back into view, Ethan got a look of Daniela's brow quirked in puzzlement. A mix of mockery and disbelief filled her voice, "That is all you need?"

"Yeah," Ethan muttered. His ribs were the current priority. The sooner that got out of the way, the sooner every single goddamn movement stopped being so unbearable. He'd need to try and feel out which of his ribs were broken, then pray to the cruel gods above that he could handle them himself. Ethan gripped the hem of his sweater, intending to pull it off and get a better feel of his busted bones. He paused when he realized Daniela still leaned on the doorway, eyeing him intently.

Ethan grunted, "Do you mind?"

Daniela's gleeful eyes flicked over to the hand grabbing his sweater, then back to him. She grinned all the wider. "Not at all – please go on."

"Fuck's sake," Ethan scoffed.

He really shouldn't have expected anything less. At this point, he was just glad he wasn't leaking any more blood out – or that Daniela wasn't making it a point to help him.

Throwing caution and dignity to the wind, Ethan took his torn and soiled sweater off. He held in the grunt of pain as his chest and back lit up from the exertion required. Ethan gritted his teeth tight, dropping the sweater to the floor. He gave himself a look in the mirror, doing his best to ignore Daniela's delighted hum.

"I can see now why Bela is so fond of you," Daniela giggled, only stopping to bite her lip.

Ethan could hardly meet Daniela's eyes in the mirror with how busy she was ogling him. Through the biting pain, all he could do was narrow his glare at her – even if it went unseen. There simply wasn't enough energy to get snippy with Daniela. All of said energy was going into standing upright and not doubling over from the constant waves of pain that rocked his midsection and pulsed all the way into his skull.

Daniela was harmless. For now. He could focus on his injuries.

The first thing Ethan noticed was that he was covered in bruises. His joints and ribs were a spattering of black and blue as a result of being sent crashing down the stairs into the storeroom. A particularly nasty bruise was forming on his abdomen – right where Cassandra had landed her first punch. New scars had settled over his arms and along his side as a result of the encounter with the ghouls in the storeroom. Other messy scars – souvenirs from Cassandra's bites – mottled his neck.

But none of that told him which of his ribs were broken. Truth be told, Ethan wasn't a hundred percent sure how to even go about this. He could suture up his own arm if push came to shove and he had the right tools (which he didn't).

But finding and addressing broken bones? He was a little out of his depth and, not for the first time, wished Bela was here to lend a hand.

Maybe after he got the chance to finally apologize to her, she'd be more than happy to look after his busted ribs.

Probably. There was still the chance she wouldn't be too keen on being all buddy-buddy with him after how their argument had gone. Still, Bela wasn't the type to stand by and let a person like him suffer if she could help it.

Until then though, he was on his own.

Having no other recourse, Ethan began running his fingertips over each of his ribs in turn – trying to find any sort of identifiable deformity. He probed slowly and with a feather-light touch so as to not aggravate the damage even more.

"Mm," Daniela hummed, "I think I like it when you touch yourself."

"Could you just," Ethan hissed in pain when he inadvertently pressed too hard against his ribs, "Fucking not?"

It earned another sharp giggle from Daniela. If he hadn't lost so much blood from getting mauled by the Moroaice, his face may have just started to flush from the humiliation of it all.

A thorough inspection of the front side of his ribcage didn't yield useful results. Ethan then turned around, facing Daniela in the process. He ignored the way she bit her lip and ran her eyes all across his bare upper body. He thanked his pulse pounding up to his ears as it helped drown out the sound of her pleased humming. Ethan craned his head over his shoulder to look at the mirror and get a glimpse of his back.

Aside from the bruises from the stairs, there looked to be some significant swelling towards the right side of his back. Ethan reached over his shoulder to press his fingertips to the inflamed skin. He grimaced as another surge of pain rolled out in waves from the point of contact, jarring his very bones. Judging by the swelling, there were two fractured ribs to contend with.

Thankfully nothing seemed to have detached entirely. That would have been problematic.

"Bela would kill to get a front row seat right now," Daniela remarked as her eyes ran over Ethan's physique. "Keep going!"

Ethan stopped feeling for his ribs to snap at Daniela, "I have two broken fucking ribs from your sister's game, and you're objectifying me right now?"

Daniela bit back a snicker and gave him another damned hum, "Mhm – it is her loss, really. She should have played strip poker with you instead."

"Fuck's sake – are we really doing this right now?" Ethan pushed the pained words out through gritted teeth as he wasted valuable energy telling Daniela off.

Daniela's teeth pressed down on her bottom lip, smile growing by the moment. "I would be happy to give you a hand if you wish. I am sure Bela would want me to care for you, after all."

The very idea made Ethan's skin crawl. "You know what – never mind. Keep your fucking hands where I can see them."

Ethan ignored Daniela's laugh in favor of preparing his ghetto attempt at first aid. He doused the rag in disinfectant for lack of any better mode of treatment. Ethan brought it over his shoulder and pressed the wet rag to the swollen lump of skin.

Like clockwork, the initial sting of the disinfectant tapered off into a dull throb. The stabbing sensation of the fractured bone lessened with each beat that passed. His skin seemed to be absorbing the disinfectant, and his moldy cells were doing the rest. The inflammation began to reduce along with the waves of pain that were rocking Ethan's body prior.

"That's not how that's supposed to work," Ethan muttered under his breath. It was a wonder how much of a freak of nature he'd become since the Baker House. Broken bones, severed legs – disinfectant wasn't supposed to be enough to let him superglue his goddamn bits back together.

As long as it worked, Ethan really couldn't complain. He was a moldy boy with moldy cells to repair normally irreparable damage. That wasn't a bad thing by any means.

Within moments, Ethan found himself able to take full, complete breaths once more without any debilitating pain. The skin was still turning an ugly shade of purple, but it was no longer misshapen and painful at the slightest touch.

"What isn't supposed to work that way?" Daniela asked, tilting her curious head one way.

Taking a deep, satisfying full breath, Ethan waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it."

Still thoroughly engrossed in his rapid healing capabilities, Ethan didn't glance Daniela's way when she uttered, "Are you hiding something from me?"

Ethan angled the rag further back to ensure his ribs were completely mended. As he did, he muttered back, "I'm not."

"What are you whispering to yourself about then?" Daniela's tone was sharp then, and void of all the prior playfulness. Ethan tore his eyes off the mirror to see a tight sneer on the redhead's features. Her shoulders were taut, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. Bugs zipped about over her head in an agitated swarm.

It merited a brief pause to evaluate the situation. Daniela had gone from teasing to suspicious in a heartbeat. If he didn't watch his step, his newly mended ribs may just be rebroken before he could blink. And this time, he wouldn't be able to count on Bela's timely intervention to save his ass if things went south.

Ethan was going to be stuck with Daniela for a day. If he didn't find some way to make this unholy union a harmonious one, then he was in deep shit. He had to gain some semblance of trust with her if he was going to survive the rest of the day without getting smacked around again.

Getting smacked around might even just be the least of his worries. Considering Daniela had murdered someone over a book, Ethan had to tread lightly. Cassandra's game – fucked up as it was – it was straightforward, at least. If he won, he'd get smacked around. If he lost, he'd get smacked around twice as much. There was a rough structure, and some parameters to work within.

But Daniela?

She was a wildcard to Ethan, and his ribs would thank him for staying on her good side.

With a gulp, Ethan shifted his hold on the rag and extended it forward. "Here, take this. I'll show you."

If this wasn't an olive branch or paving the path to an attempt at peace, Ethan didn't know what was.

The frown Daniela wore simmered down to look of interest. The insects swirling above settled down, returning to her body. She pushed off of the doorframe to take the rag from Ethan and stand in front of him. Her large eyes ran over his face in a vaguely suspicious manner – like she was wondering if she was about to be tricked.

"I've got a cut here," Ethan motioned to his cheek. "Press that cloth to the wound. Gently."

Daniela followed along, pressing the disinfectant-soaked rag to his cheek. Her eyes went to his as she asked, "What next?"

"Normally you keep some pressure on that to help stop the bleeding. The cut scabs over and it'll take a couple days to heal completely, but…" Ethan raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. "That's not the case with me."

"After you and Cassandra did a number on me in my cell…" Ethan's fingers gave a reflexive twitch at his sides. The phantom pain of his missing finger and his mangled arms – they were still all too fresh in his mind. "Bela patched me up, but I don't think you saw the whole thing."

After getting Daniela to stop suckling on his amputated finger, Bela had sent Daniela away to check on Cassandra. Daniela hadn't had the chance to see his moldy cells at work repairing his wounds with nothing but disinfectant for help.

"You can take the rag off now," Ethan instructed, and Daniela obediently pulled back to find the cut had sealed completely. It didn't leave so much as a scab on his skin. Ethan added, "Most people can't really close up wounds like that."

"Huh," Daniela let out in wonder. She thumbed the mended skin with a light touch. She brought her face close – a little too close for comfort – to study his cheek for any signs of trickery. Finding none, she commented, "Good as new. Mother did say you were supposed to be special."

Ethan gave a wry smile. "Yeah, not the first time I've heard that."

"You're very special to Bela, too," Daniela added oh-so innocently with a flashy wink.

With a roll of his eyes, Ethan took the rag back from Daniela. She grinned all the while returning to her spot by the doorframe. "What is the deal between you and my sister anyway, Ethan?"

The use of his name caught him off guard. Aside from Bela (and the servants with their 'Mr. Winters'), this was the first time anyone else had addressed him by name. Cassandra and her mother were perfectly content to be calling him the man-thing or the pathetic wretch.

The silence drew on longer, and Ethan found himself staring at Daniela. She spoke first, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "You're called 'Ethan', right?"

Ethan fiddled with the rag in hand for just a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I am." He then made it a point to scoff and add in dismissal, "There is no deal between me and your sister. Which sister? There's no deal with either of them."

Daniela's brows came together in a look of pure dubiousness. "Come on, you can tell me. It'll be our little secret!"

Being under Daniela's prying eyes was one thing – experiencing it while naked from the waist up was worse. The cold didn't help either, what with his pants still being considerably damp with wine and blood.

Maybe he could leverage that curiosity and odd behavior of hers. Half-undressed and painfully unarmed, Ethan had to use everything in his disposal to survive the day behind enemy lines.

"Look, I'm serious when I say there is no deal – but I'll answer any questions you might have if you can get me a change of clothes." Ethan gestured to his torn and sweat-stained shirt on the floor, and his jeans – once blue but now a filthy shade of brown and red. "I'd really appreciate it."

Daniela's interest was piqued. She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing for a second. "You'll answer my questions?"

With a shrug, Ethan confirmed, "Yeah."

"Any question?" Daniela reiterated.

Raising his eyebrows in the slightest exasperation, he nodded, "Yeah."

After a stretch of silence, Daniela brought her hand forward, pinky finger extended.

"Swear on it."

Ethan let out a cross between a scoff and a confused laugh. "Are you serious?"

Daniela's leveled expression was enough confirmation, but she added just the same, "I am dead serious, Ethan."

Shaking his head, Ethan met Daniela's hand in a pinky promise. They shook thrice before releasing, and Daniela's dazzling smile came back in place. She stepped back from the doorway and into the library.

Daniela gave a soft, delighted laugh as she told him, "I will be back soon. Try not to miss me too much."

"I'll do my best," Ethan muttered, watching Daniela turn with grace in her movements. She walked towards the exit with light, bouncy steps. Humming a tune to herself, she exited the door and took flight.

Ethan stared into the library for a while longer, shaking his head to himself at the absurdity of it all – like this castle was just one brand of insanity after the other. He took the time to press the rag to his black eye. The simple movement – raising his arm, bending at the elbow, and craning his hand in the slightest – took more effort than it should have. It wasn't due to any particular injury or physical impairment. Rather, it was simply from just how exhausted Ethan was.

He had not slept particularly well the night before after his argument with Bela. The moment he was up on his two feet, he was plunged into Cassandra's game. He'd sprinted for longer and farther than he had in recent memory. The brutal close quarter fighting with the Moroaice, and then his brawl with Cassandra had been grueling. The physical battering aside, Ethan's limbs were dull and heavy with fatigue from all the explosive exertion he'd needed to keep up.

And what did he have to show for it?

Ethan drew the rag off his eye and took a peek at the mirror. The worst of the swelling had subsided, along with the minor impairment of his vision. The dark purple bruising remained, but it wasn't debilitating, at the very least. The disinfectant on hand was barely enough to soak the rag Ethan held. It wouldn't be able to stimulate his moldy cells to repair the surface-level bruising along the rest of his body.

It was anybody's guess who the real winner was to Cassandra's game. He may have stomped on her pride, but it cost him a year's worth of bruises paid in full and up front. Not to mention the storeroom's condition was – well, bad, to say the least. Ethan never did perform at his best in the heat of anger, but that wasn't always something he could help. He could only imagine how that mess would bite him in the ass down the line.

For what little it was worth, Ethan scrubbed the drying blood off of his face. He just might feel semi-human again after cleaning all the blood and filth that had clumped on over the past couple of hours.

After that, maybe he could pick one of those couches in the library and pass out for the rest of the day – until his comeuppance for wrecking that shelf came for a reckoning. After enduring Cassandra's fucked up idea of a game, he felt ready to sleep for a whole goddamn week.

Better yet, maybe he could throw all caution to the wind and seek refuge with the one ray of light in this godforsaken castle, even if it may land him in hot water again. Daniela was preoccupied for the moment. What was stopping him from sneaking out, finding Bela, and apologizing to her for his boorish behavior the night prior? Afterwards, he might just pathetically ask if he could take a nap with her. History had proven his bed had room for two, and at least that way he wouldn't wake up to more murderous games.

Ethan snorted to himself.

If – no, when – Cassandra caught sight of that, he would be in for part two of their brawl.

But who was he kidding, really?

That wasn't how these things went – and that went double when one considered all the complexities of his relationship with Bela.

She cared enough to not let his tongue get sliced off, sure. Did she care enough to give him the time of day to hear him and his apology out? After how he had all but spat in her face and disregarded the fact she'd lost her entire goddamn life prior to the Dimitrescu House?

Ethan wouldn't blame Bela if she'd rather leave him in the dark for a while longer. He – the insolent prisoner – had hurt her – the kind jailer. Bela had all the means in the world to punish him for his transgressions as actively or passively as she wished. It was up to her just how much their roles would play into where they went moving forward.

And it was hard to say where that was. Maybe the one good thing Ethan had in this castle was done and over with. He'd been given a chance and he squandered it. Tough shit.

Maybe Bela wanted to hold on as much as he did, and things weren't beyond repair.

The way she punted Cassandra across the room and stood her ground in his defense was, hopefully, a good sign towards the latter.

Ethan fished the two bracelets out of his pocket, both now a little grimy from the sorry state of his jeans. He rinsed Rose's bracelet in the sink first, ridding it of the little dirt that had clung onto it. He thumbed over the engraving of her name in slow strokes.

Securing Rose was obviously his top priority. Nothing was going to change that. But, Ethan knew he hopefully wasn't in this alone, and acting alone was going to get him nowhere. It was through Bela that he knew Rose was safe, and that she was in Lady Dimitrescu's room. He wouldn't have made that headway without Bela's help.

Ethan didn't want to be using Bela, but fact was fact – he wasn't going to see Rose anytime soon without Bela's help. Yet even if Bela wasn't the potential magic key to reconnecting with Rose, the woman had become important to him over the course of his imprisonment here. It was only right that he made things up to Bela and did right by her.

He cared about her. Plain and simple. Stockholm Syndrome or what – maybe that's how it started. Maybe that's how it still was. Ethan didn't give a fuck. All he knew was that he genuinely cared about Bela, and the hurt he'd inflicted on her didn't sit right with him in the slightest. He needed to make amends.

He carefully hung the rose-gold bracelet over the faucet, giving it a moment to dry while he still didn't have his hands on his change of clothes.

Maybe he could get Bela something nice to go with his apology, when he got the chance. If he played his cards right, he could convince Daniela to take him on a field trip to see the Duke. God knows what apology gift Bela would be delighted to receive, but Ethan would be damned if he didn't at least try.

If a regular gift didn't check out, then maybe he could pour her a warm cup of his blood. He knew intimately well the effect that his blood had on Bela.

Ethan went over Zoria's bracelet next, taking care to rinse the beads and bone off in the sink, and dry off the feathers. It was as good as it was going to get for now, even if he still didn't quite know what to do with it.

The hollow, sunken eye sockets were seared into Ethan's memory, along with the eternal scream her maw had been locked in. The blood in his mouth – bitter, metallic, and stale – it was enough to make Ethan nauseous all over again.

To cope with the tremble setting into his hands, Ethan checked the last bit of personal effects he still had on him – his journal. Upon tugging it free from the back of his jeans and turning it over, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. Save for some muck on the cover, the pages were dry and intact. Thankfully, he hadn't fallen ass-first into the blood and wine. He'd only fallen knees-first like a wallowing asshole when he toppled the shelf over.

After giving the journal a quick wipe, Ethan set it down on the counter and gave himself a look in the mirror. Aside from the mildly black eye, and the bruises covering his arms and body, his condition was passable. As long as Daniela didn't add to the spattering of black and blue decorating his body, he would be fine.

Right on cue, Ethan watched through the mirror's reflection as the library door opened. Daniela landed with a spring in her step, and a bundle of his clothing in hand. Her humming ceased in order to call out to him, "I got your favorites!"

Oh no.

Daniela unfurled one article of clothing, revealing the cursed I (HEART) MY SMART AND HOT ROMANIAN GIRLFRIEND sweater. Ethan's face twisted into a tight cringe as he turned to face Daniela. The redhead was undisturbed by his expression, choosing instead to march on into the bathroom to hand him the clothes.

"Thanks," Ethan grunted. He tried not to glare too hard at the text on the sweater he'd made a point to not wear since the last time he changed out of it.

Ethan allowed only a moment to pass – glancing Daniela's way to see if she would offer him some privacy. As expected, she watched him intently from her spot by the doorway, eyes running along his bare torso.

"Christ," Ethan muttered under his breath. To spare himself a shred of dignity, he turned around before he began unbuttoning his bloody jeans. They dropped to his ankles with the slightest damp squelch.

"Mm," Daniela hummed, "What a perky rear you have, Ethan. Shall I play some music to set the mood?"

"Shut up."

Daniela's giggling bounced off the walls of the small bathroom as Ethan hastily wiped his legs down. When his skin no longer felt sticky to the touch from the unholy concoction of blood and wine, he began tugging on the fresh pair of jeans. It was a small mercy that his boxers needed no changing.

"Aww, Ethan," Daniela whined with a pout fixed to her lips, "I was just beginning to enjoy the show!"

In wordless reply, Ethan flipped Daniela the finger. He ignored the next round of laughter, just as he ignored the heat building on his cheeks. The sweater was as cozy as its print was annoying, and it was pulled on next. Fresh socks warmed Ethan's feet, and finally he found himself warm, and no longer smelling completely like adrenaline, blood, wine, and death.

A glance at the mirror and – black eye and fatigue aside – you would barely be able to guess he'd been fighting for his life just hours prior.

With little show or ceremony, Ethan pocketed the bracelets hanging on the sink, and stuffed the journal into the back of his jeans. When he turned to face Daniela, she didn't appear to pay his quick hands any mind. She was preoccupied staring at him with a lopsided smile, and not removing herself from the doorway. Ethan wasn't particularly fond of how cramped the bathroom was, and how Daniela stood in between him and the open space of the library.

When she didn't budge, and instead kept her sly gaze fixed on him, Ethan asked, "What?"

Without missing a beat, Daniela asked, "Have you made love to my sister yet?"

"What?! Jesus fucking Christ," Ethan's brows all but met his hairline as he scoffed and sputtered, "No – no, and I don't have any plans to."

Daniela's doubtful eyes surveyed his face for a moment longer. Finally, she stepped back, allowing him to exit the bathroom. Even as she did, she didn't break eye contact with Ethan, and instead followed up with, "Have you at least kissed her yet?"

Ethan could still feel Bela's soft hair tickling his lips when he planted a kiss to the top of her head.

He cleared his throat, put on a show of curling his lip in disgust, and answered, "No."

Daniela crossed her arms over her chest and asked with just a tinge of exasperation, "Well, what's taking you so long to make a move? I see the way you two look at each other."

"Look, I dunno what it is you think is going on with me and Bela," Ethan gestured vaguely beyond the library door, "But it's not that."

"Do you at least like her?" Daniela grew more annoyed as she spoke, "Do you find her attractive?"

Ethan's jaw hung open for a moment longer before he took the time to lick his dry lips. He had made a promise to attain these dry clothes, and he was, unfortunately, honor-bound to fulfill that promise.

"I mean – yeah, she's a likable person, so," Ethan shrugged, "I like her, I guess."

Daniela leaned in by a smidge in silent command to answer the rest of her question.

Bela was gorgeous, but Ethan wasn't about to say that out loud.

With a scoff, Ethan began, "Bela is – you know – she," His eyes avoided Daniela while his shoulder popped with another noncommittal shrug, "I guess she's pretty – but I didn't exactly come to this fucking castle looking for a girlfriend."

His answers – and perhaps his delivery – may not have been very satisfactory to Daniela. Her lips pressed together into a straight, displeased line. "You are not a very enthusiastic suitor for my sister, are you?"

A snarl threatened to split across Ethan's face.

It hadn't even been two weeks since his wife was shot dead in front of him. The sight of Mia's lifeless body – the taste of her blood in his mouth – it was all still very much engraved in his memory. That sort of thing wasn't going away remotely soon, and Ethan wasn't expecting it to.

Before Ethan could release the grief, painted in fire and brimstone, he took a moment to really look at Daniela, and the expression she wore. It was an oddly earnest look on her – a sincere bewilderment at his supposed inaction, and a defensiveness over her sister – like she wanted to be as sure as possible that her dear sibling wasn't getting mixed up with some miscreant who didn't deserve her.

And again – that wasn't at all what Ethan was trying to get up to with Bela. The deal between him and Bela wasn't exactly romantic in nature.

Sure, there was attraction. Bela was beautiful, and Ethan was sure that even the blind would turn their heads when she walked by. She was intelligent – easily as much of a nerd as he was, in her own way. She was charismatic, and held conversation better than most. She was funny – even if it tended to be at his expense; to Ethan, the true hallmark of a really funny person was when he didn't mind being the butt of their joke all the damn time.

But the attraction was incidental. It was parallel to the core of what the deal was between him and Bela. At its core, beyond the surface-level attraction and his desire to find Rose, what he had with Bela was –

Well, Ethan couldn't so easily sum it all up into simple words.

There was respect – far more respect than any jailer owed their prisoner. There was understanding and compassion the likes of which Ethan had only truly felt one other time in his life. There was a mutual desire – an instinct – to comfort and protect one another.

As if Bela needed any protection when she was nigh-invincible, and Ethan was just a moldy bag of meat and bones.

But maybe that's why Bela had gone to him that night – since her tormented past was the one thing that she was not invulnerable to. Ethan still didn't have a clear picture of what kept Bela up that night – but what Ethan did know all too well was the importance of having someone to share that burden with. The crushing weight was bearable when joined by another.

Of course, that was all contrasted to the fact that Bela literally locked him up in a cell. But despite being his captor, Bela was no free bird either. She was imprisoned in this castle during the colder seasons, and appeared to be locked in the general region all year-round.

And just like how Ethan had been thrust into a horrific situation beyond his control – Sorry, Ethan – Bela likewise hardly appeared to have willingly chosen the bug-woman life. There was much Bela had lost, and Ethan's heart bled for her. He knew loss all too well.

Perhaps the confluence of it all was what had pushed them together in the end. That shared pain, and understanding of imprisonment and loss, and crushed dreams of days gone. They played no small part in ensuring that the sickle to the leg and the imprisonment were (mostly) water under the bridge now.

"Look, Daniela," Ethan started, only to find her full name to sound strange on his tongue, "Dani – can I call you Dani?"

It had always seemed like a mouthful to Ethan, and the same went for Cassandra. The difference here was that Daniela was relatively friendly and seemed easy enough to address by nickname. Cassandra would probably make him eat his own intestines if he even attempted to do the same with her.

Daniela's scrutinous and suspicious expression broke, giving way to a bashful smile. A fly or two gave a nearly pleasant buzz from over her shoulder. "You may."

"Okay," Ethan offered a small smile back, if only to further ease the little tension between them. "Dani, I'm not Bela's suitor. I promise you, it's not like that. I'm…" Ethan's lips hung open for a moment longer. The metallic tang of blood on his tongue was all he could remember for an impossibly long second. The shattering of glass replayed in his mind – sending an involuntary flinch up from his shoulder. His hands twitched at their sides – wordlessly cursing their inability to act any quicker. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, "I'm not in any condition for anything like that."

Daniela gave him a gentle frown as she asked, "Why not?"

Lady Dimitrescu must truly make it a point to keep her daughters in the dark if they were all unaware of what became of Rose's mother. Bela had to be told of what happened to Mia. Daniela seemed just as unaware. Cassandra probably didn't know, but just as likely wouldn't give a rat's ass about Mia's fate – hell, the bitch might even just laugh in his face if she found out.

"You know how Rose – my daughter – she's being kept in your mom's room, right?" Ethan not-so-subtly slipped in the opportunity for extra confirmation of Rose's whereabouts.

"Mhm," Daniela hummed in assent.

"Did your mom, or Bela, or," Ethan shrugged, "Miranda – did they ever tell you what happened to Rose's mother."

Ethan observed Daniela's eyes drift downwards. They went to the wedding band on Ethan's hand. He himself hardly noticed he'd begun to subconsciously stroke it when he wrung his hands together.

Daniela slowly shook her head in the negative.

It was easier to get the words out now. After releasing the grief as hot tears in Bela's embrace, saying the words out loud didn't bring the same piercing ache.

"She's dead." The flat delivery in his own tone felt foreign to Ethan. It was a detachment – a certain numbness born from acceptance and resignation alike. "My wife was shot dead right in front of me. That was the same day that Bela locked me up."

There was still pain that came with the loss, and Ethan hadn't been expecting anything less.

Talking of Mia evoked vivid memories of all sorts.

Long, lonely nights curled up in bed with tears stinging his eyes the first time he mourned Mia when she'd been presumed dead.

Lighter, livelier days spent together after they'd been reunited – dancing together in the kitchen and laughing like idiots while preparing lunch.

Quiet, slow evenings wrapped up in each other's arms under warm sheets, with nothing but their breathy voices to pierce the tranquility of their bedroom.

They all hurt more than any of Cassandra's blades.

But it was a manageable sort of hurt. The kind that could be swallowed down with a big breath and a deep sigh. It was a pain that would follow Ethan for months – no, years to come. The only solace was that this suffering was not without its balms and reprieves.

There was no grief counseling to ease Ethan's remorse. No cemetery he could visit to drop to his knees and express his regrets.

But there was Bela's kind voice absolving him of his guilt. There were her strong, slender arms wrapped around his body to hold him steady when he could no longer bottle it all up.

Against all odds, Ethan was far less alone this time around through the grieving process.

It was what sent the words creeping out of Ethan's mouth. He was looking past Daniela – or perhaps through her – as he recalled the events.

"Things were okay for a while, you know? We had our arguments, and it wasn't easy, but we made it work."

Talking helped. It hurt, but it helped. With each word that pulled its way to freedom from the confines of his heart, he could feel just a quarter of an ounce lighter.

"We were just about to have dinner when the window broke," Ethan's voice grew strained. "First bullet got her in the shoulder."

There was the initial confusion – the inability to comprehend what had just happened. Mia was as moldy as he was, so it was easy enough for her to shrug off the first bullet. But the barrage that followed?

Ethan didn't think he would've survived the onslaught of rounds either.

"They cut the power to our house." Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat as it threatened to form. "Tracers lit up the dining room. They didn't stop until she hit the ground."

The smell of gun smoke cut through the aroma of their ruined dinner. The crash of their ceiling light echoed off the walls. More glass shattered as the operators breached the house.

Sorry, Ethan.

"They finished her off." Ethan heard the words more than he felt them coming out of his own mouth as the detachment set in. Maybe the fact he'd already lost Mia before made it easier to talk about. "They put five rounds in her chest to make sure she'd stay down."

It was easier to talk about. But never easy.

And before Ethan could see it coming, Daniela launched herself forward. Ethan could only make out the rush of red hair before Daniela's arms came to cling around him in a tight hug. He took a couple steps backward to catch his balance.

"That's awful," Daniela's voice came with a sniffle. "I'm so sorry."

Ethan tried to blink the surprise from his eyes as Daniela gave him a big squeeze. His hands were frozen, hovering in the air over her back. His head remained craned away from Daniela's face, which dug into his chest.

Daniela's emotions seemed to be on a hair trigger. It was astounding how quickly she could cycle between emotions – and how strongly they seemed to resonate within her. Ethan figured it was potentially a good thing, if it meant her anger could quickly defuse – but it was very bad if he pushed the wrong buttons.

Just as abruptly, Daniela pulled back enough to get a look at Ethan. Her brows pitched together in the very image of sorrow, and a few stray tears trickled down her face. "You poor man. I did not mean to trudge up that painful experience. I'm sorry."

Ethan regarded Daniela for a moment, tear-streaked face and all. They weren't crocodile tears, that much Ethan was certain of. Daniela appeared genuinely remorseful, regardless of how quickly she zipped through her emotions.

"It's okay." Ethan settled for giving Daniela an awkward pat on the back.

With a sad smile, Daniela took a step back and wrung her hands together in front of her. "Maybe we can get to work. Whenever I feel bad, I work on organizing my library. Perhaps it will help ease your sorrow as well?"

Ethan looked at the utter disarray around them. Daniela either never felt bad, and never organized her library, or she felt bad quite often, and never quite nailed down how to organize the library. Given her mood swings, both seemed probable.

In any case, keeping occupied was better than dwelling on Mia's loss or answering prying questions about him and Bela. "Sure. Lead the way."

A/N: Hey fellas, thank you so much for reading! Do be sure to punch the fave and follow buttons, and all that good shit! And of course, do drop me a review to let me know how you found this latest chapter!

This is only the beginning of what Dani and Ethan have been up to while Bela and Cass toil away in the great hall. Bela's fears of Dani ogling Ethan are... not unfounded, but at least she hasn't gotten her hands all over mold boy. Yet.

Capcom's described Daniela as being the most "delusional" of the three sisters, and I'm... partially holding onto the source material, which you'll see as we keep going. I have a bit of a different take on her instability, a hopefully more grounded one. It's honestly been fun writing this chapter, and the succeeding ones involving Daniela. As was the case with Bela and Cass, the game just gives us so little to go on with the sisters, so there's so much potential just waiting to be tapped. Whether it be different, more unconventional takes on the sisters, or more faithful to the game, it's exciting to think of all the varying ways other fan authors can write the trio.

Next chapter should probably go up in a week at the usual-ish time. Some personal stuff has come up alongside work stuff, so I foresee possible delays down the line. But thankfully, I got a decent chunk of writing out of the way last week, so we should be okay, fingers crossed.

Thank you all again so much for the overwhelming support. From the bottom of my writer heart, know that it is very, very much appreciated. As I now rush to reply to your reviews, do take care, and I'll catch you around soon!

PS I nearly forgot to include it in the notes, but we now have a TV Tropes page courtesy of SneakyHint from AO3! Be sure to give it a peek, and contribute if you wish: Link here: tvtropes pmwiki/ pmwiki .php /Fanfic/BloodAndWinter