With the bathroom to himself, Ethan took that time to finish washing up and drying off. He was in no rush, as he was still a tad lightheaded from Bela's feeding. The last thing he wanted was to somehow crack his head on the tub and drown himself – only marginally worse than giving himself hypothermia from his bucket bath.
The newfound privacy allowed Ethan's thoughts to reconvene with the remnants of his sanity. On the agenda was the feeding that had just transpired, viewed through a new light as the clarity set in. But the sounds Bela made were intoxicating, and her needy hands caught up in his hair made his pulse quicken. The clarity that tried to instill rationality and caution in his head had nothing to say when presented with that irrefutable counterargument. The only thing his mind could put together was that he was looking forward to the next feeding.
Ethan pulled his fresh clothes on, including warm socks, a pair of jeans, and a grey sweater that would have matched Bela's. He dug through his old clothes he'd left neatly folded next to Bela's laundry basket. Ethan retrieved his belongings. Rose's bracelet was tucked away into one pocket, while his journal found its usual spot in the back of his jeans.
Before exiting the bathroom, Ethan stopped by the foggy mirror. He wiped the glass clean with his sleeve to get a better look at himself. With a rough hand, he swept his drying, messy blonde hair back; it felt softer than it had in ages, thanks to Bela's fingers doing their magic. After some finger-combing, he looked presentable enough, bruising under his eyes and all.
Wincing in the slightest, Ethan faced his back to the mirror; he tugged on the neckline of his sweater until he got a glimpse of his shoulder. The red lines Bela had drawn on his skin with her nails were still present. He would be wearing those light welts as a souvenir of the last feeding for at least a day or two. Ethan shook his head, a small smile on his face as he released the sweater.
Each feeding was escalating with intensity. They'd started out with only Bela clinging onto Ethan as she fed. Now they were holding each other close, tugging each other's hair, and Ethan had way too many tangential thoughts about the taste of Bela's neck. Ethan did not know what the next barrier was that they would smash with a sledgehammer – but the idea brought a vague sense of excitement and anticipation.
What he did know was that looking forward to the next feeding probably did not bode well for his sanity – if he had any left to begin with.
Pushing the door open, Ethan entered Bela's bedroom to find the blonde in question to be absent.
The solitude lasted for all of five seconds before the click of her heels grew audible, and the door to the dungeon opened. Bela flashed him a smile as she stepped in. She observed, "You're done."
"Yup," Ethan nodded, "I definitely needed that. Beats the bucket in my cell any day."
Bela rolled her eyes as she kicked her heels off, leaving them by the door. She slid her slippers on. "You are welcome to a bath here whenever you need one. Just say the word, mhm?"
"I'll take you up on that." Ethan smiled.
One had to wonder if Bela's first-class customer service was part of that open offer. If it was, Ethan had no qualms with that. If it wasn't – well, perhaps that was for the better, lest his hormones finally get the better of him and his weak-willed man-brain. Things were complicated enough as it was. It would do no good to entertain the errant thoughts of pulling Bela into the bathtub to taste her lips and do entirely unwholesome things to her.
It was different now compared to the last feeding when those lascivious thoughts first cropped up. The guilt was largely gone, no longer tugging at his heartstrings, or burning through his mind like acid. He couldn't find it in him to be upset with himself for allowing such thoughts to even exist. Not anymore – not after the rollercoaster ride of the past few days, and all of Bela's revelations, and all she had done for him.
In the world's messiest grieving process, a strange relationship like what he had with Bela was as soothing as it was confusing. She provided all the comfort and respite, and Ethan could burrow into her embrace and forget about the outside world, even if for only a moment. Bela was the balm to the stabbing pain in his heart from the hole Mia's death had left. It would be insane not to give in and take refuge in the sanctuary that was Bela Dimitrescu.
Freshly widowed and thrown into such a complex, bizarre setup in Castle Dimitrescu, Ethan needed to manage the grief, and Bela was helping him do just that. It just so happened that Bela was drop-dead gorgeous; his moldy lizard brain was assuming that the logical next step to all the emotional comfort was the physical side of things, and it was looking for more, more, more.
But Ethan would be kidding himself if he pretended that the physical attraction and her comforting presence were all there was to it. There were potent emotions that had formed – powerful enough to have sent his mind spinning and his anxiety crawling earlier when it became clear Bela was not in the castle. Emotions that had such a sway on him that he'd spent over a day contemplating the need to soothe the bump in their relationship after his outburst. Feelings that danced in his chest and pleasantly swirled in his stomach even now as Bela regarded him with a friendly smile.
"I just came from the kitchen." Bela motioned upstairs and provided a welcome distraction from his thoughts. "I passed on some early dinner instructions to Tatyana. I haven't had a proper meal since last night, and Karl's gruel – which was in no way edible."
Ethan made a face as he shut the bathroom door. "Gruel?"
"Yes," Bela scrunched her nose up in disgust – as if recalling her meal with Karl. "Beans from a can, charred toast, and beef jerky." The sarcasm filled her voice as she groaned, "Absolutely scrumptious."
"Sounds like my cooking, to be honest." Ethan put on a wry smile, earning a soft chuckle from Bela.
"Judging by what you've told me about your cooking experience, I cannot trust you in my kitchen." A giggle, and Bela added, "You and Karl may burn this entire castle to the ground if you tried cooking breakfast together."
"If he doesn't try to turn me into a hamburger first."
Bela laughed, shaking her head as she stepped further into her bedroom. "To be fair to Karl, he can poach eggs. He even whipped up a delightful hollandaise sauce to go with it."
Ethan raised his brows. Mia used to cook up a mean Eggs Benedict, so he could respect that. Still, he couldn't help but mention, "Heisenberg didn't seem like the hollandaise type."
Sitting down at the foot of her bed, Bela bit her lip for just a beat. "Karl said his father taught him that a long time ago."
Ethan had to wonder if Karl Heisenberg's father was as magnetically-inclined as his son – but such things were a mystery. It was very likely that Karl's father was as mundane as can be, much like Bela's birth parents. Though when considering how this valley defied logic, it was just as likely that Karl's father was a little green alien – maybe with a matching hat and hammer to boot. It made about as much sense as the rest of this place.
"Well, at least it wasn't all gruel."
An affirmative hum from Bela, and she said, "I would cook us something hearty after the long days we have had, but," She raised her shoulder in a shrug and smiled sheepishly. She struggled to suppress a yawn with her hand before managing to say, "I might fall asleep on the stove."
Ethan could have offered for her to take a powernap then and there – but his eyes landed on the blue gift box on Bela's dresser.
"That reminds me. I wanna give this to you before you pass out." Ethan padded across the room with his socked feet. He felt Bela's curious gaze follow him until he arrived at his destination. Ethan retrieved the box and approached Bela. Taking a leaf from Bela's book, Ethan motioned to the spot next to her. "May I?"
Bela looked up at him in silence for a moment longer; her eyes betrayed a shyness to them now that the shoe was on the other foot.
When Bela broke from whatever trance had befallen her, she wore a small smile and nodded. Ethan eased into position to Bela's left and set his hands atop the box's blue lid. The shimmering red ribbon lay forgotten somewhere in her bathroom after he had hurried to pull the warmers out.
Unable to help himself, Ethan instructed, "Close your eyes."
Bela's tattooed forehead creased as she raised her brows high up. "What on earth are you trying to pull, Ethan?"
Ethan huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Not pulling anything. C'mon – close your eyes."
Bela curled her lip in a show of displeasure but complied. She took a breath and relaxed her features, but not before warning him, "If this is some kind of prank, I will…"
The threat fell flat, and an awkward pause hung in the air before Bela concluded, "I'll break your arm."
Ethan snorted, and had to bite down on his lip to not laugh at her painfully unintimidating delivery. Clearing his throat, he played along, "Noted. No pranks from me."
It put a smile on Bela's face, leaving Ethan to go on, "It won't come to that. Don't worry." More seriously now, Ethan added, "Hold out your hands."
Bela's hands raised from her lap to hover in the air in front of her. Ethan popped the lid off the box and set it aside. The pristine white sand was nestled in the Korken, ready for delivery. Without further delay, Ethan took the jar and placed it in Bela's waiting hands.
A curious furrow formed on her brow, and she noted, "It's… glass?"
"Well, you're not wrong." Ethan smiled at the focus on Bela's face as her fingers wrapped around the jar – attempting to identify her mystery gift. "You can open your eyes now."
Bela's lashes fluttered open, and her gaze fell to the jar in her hands. She raised it up for better inspection, tilting her head to the side.
"After things went south between us the other night, I wanted to get you a little apology gift." Gesturing to the jar, Ethan said, "The Duke gave me a hand with that."
Bela blinked a few times, scrutinizing the jar's contents, until the clarity began to dawn on her. "Is this…"
"Sand." Ethan motioned to their surroundings. "I figured, y'know, we're stuck in this castle. If I can't bring you to the beach, then at least I can bring part of the beach to you."
"Ethan, I…" Bela's lips remained parted, eyes shooting back and forth between him and the jar in her hands.
Ethan's voice was soft as he tilted his head to the jar and urged her, "Open it."
A gorgeous smile split across Bela's face. She pulled the metal lock up, allowing the lid to come free. In an instant, the salty smell of the sea began to fill the space between them. Bela's golden eyes glanced at Ethan once – whether seeking permission or encouragement was anyone's guess. At his nod, Bela reached a hand into the jar, fingers dipping into the white sand.
Bela let out a breath, and her smile only grew wider. Her fingers twiddled through the fine, almost powdery grains of sand. She toyed around with the sand, and rubbed the little specs between her fingers and her thumb. Bela's face radiated with utter fascination as she inspected the foreign material. Ethan felt his heart swell just watching her.
When Bela closed her eyes, Ethan felt that was his cue to speak, voice barely above a whisper. "Now, all we're missing is the sun beating down on us. Smell of salt in the air, stronger than what you can smell now. Water washing up and splashing our legs." Ethan was hardly aware he was smiling as widely as Bela was. "And we can't forget about those damn seagulls that never shut up."
Eyes still shut, Bela laughed, her entire expression lighter than Ethan had ever seen it. The carefree wonder was an enthralling look to behold on Bela. And since Ethan was a sucker for that laugh, he added, "I'd try and copy the seagull sounds for you, but…"
There it was – that beautiful laugh. Bela's free hand came up to press to her lips, now that the jar was nestled on her lap.
"I probably shouldn't. I'll just sound like a deer choking on an apple or something."
Bela finally opened her eyes again, laughing freely. In between her giggles, she nudged Ethan in the side with her elbow. It was enough to make his heart swoon when the affection lit up in Bela's voice. Quite simply, she managed out, "Ethan!"
"What?" Ethan laughed right back.
When Bela was able to reel in all the unabashed mirth, she chewed on her bottom lip, eyes locked onto his. She rubbed her fingers together to clean them of the sand before she secured the lid on the jar. Bela set the Korken aside before patting her hand on her dress a final time, leaving the ghost of a handprint on the dark fabric.
Bela held a more reserved smile on her features for a while longer, either unable or unwilling to tear her eyes off his. It was only through that prolonged eye contact that Ethan noticed the slightest shimmer in her golden eyes – then she blinked, and a few loose tears trickled down her face.
Gently, Ethan asked, "Are you okay?"
"I am more than okay, you silly man-thing," Bela laughed softly, a nearly imperceptible quiver in her voice. It sent another tear trickling down her face. "I'm happy."
There was potency to the simplicity of Bela's admission. It winded Ethan to think of it – of how profoundly uplifted her spirits were.
Bela shifted from where she sat, tucking one leg under the other to properly face Ethan. Her hands quickly found his face, thumbs grazing along his stubble. Bela tilted his head, ensuring she had Ethan's full attention.
She could be assured that she did. There was nowhere in this castle Ethan would rather be looking, than right into Bela's honey golden eyes.
Bela took in a long, shaky breath, releasing it slowly. With that radiant smile of hers, she whispered, "You make me happy."
Whatever remaining air was knocked right out of Ethan. He ducked his head for just a moment as the butterflies in his stomach went ballistic, and his heart thundered in his chest. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before returning his gaze to Bela's.
It was only fair for Ethan to admit, "You make me happy too, Bela."
When this all started, it was simply making the most of a bad situation. Bela added simple comforts and ease to his life as a prisoner. But in the days leading up to their argument and the fallout that ensued – Ethan had been doing just fine, and it was all thanks to Bela. She helped with the grief by listening intently and encouraging him to speak of Mia. Bela was the spark that kept his hopes lit – and that only doubled now that she had shared her findings, and she was on his side in his quest to recover Rose and escape. 'Happy' only scratched the surface of how Bela made Ethan feel.
The adoring look on Bela's face was firing off every unwise thought in Ethan's head. To prevent said thoughts from taking over, he quipped, "The rest of the time, you just drive me crazy though."
Bela scoffed out a laugh, appearing quite appalled as her eyebrows raised high. "Wow," She shook her head, "I drive you crazy? Is that so?"
"Yeah," Ethan pursed his lips for a second, motioning to the bathroom, "Can't even take a bath around here without you perving on me, tapeworm – goddamn."
Bela withdrew her hands from Ethan's face, crossing her arms over her chest instead. Try as she might to scowl, the amused smile persisted at the corner of her lip. "The audacity of you – you are such an unbelievable, insufferable man-thing, are you aware of that?"
Ethan smacked his lips, smiled, and shot back, "Yeah, I tend to have that effect on women. I get that a lot."
"It is a miracle Mia stuck around for as long as she did."
Failing to suppress a laugh, Ethan gave Bela a wry smile. "Yeah, it is."
When their respective chuckles and grinning simmered down, their eyes met once more, and a brief silence settled between them. Ethan searched Bela's eyes in the hopes of finding any enlightenment to the thoughts running through her mind. All he found in her eyes was the affection, sweet as honey – a look he'd only ever gotten from Mia.
Maybe that's why he felt so naked under Bela's adoring gaze. It opened up a whole can of emotions. There was the bittersweetness to consider it – how his late wife was the only other person to look at him that way. There was the trepidation – because, somehow, they weren't just two chucklefucks sharing banter and taking potshots at each other anymore; whatever Ethan felt, this – whatever this was, was serious.
Then underneath it all was the quiet excitement Ethan felt to be able to connect with Bela as he was – this relationship was as unpredictable as it was strange, and Ethan yearned to see where this path led. It was all so absurd and improbable, but here they were, and Ethan was committed to seeing this crazy train all the way to its destination – even if he was fully aware of how badly it would likely end.
But.
But Bela was worth the risk. If circumstances would bring this thing of theirs to a tragic end, then Ethan would at least be happy to have been on the ride. He would be happy to say he had gotten the honor and the pleasure to connect with Bela Dimitrescu, against all odds and rationality and long-forgotten titles of captor and captive.
It was Bela who broke eye contact first, but only so she could wrap her arms around Ethan's midsection. She pressed herself to his side and reached over to kiss his cheek. Bela's lips brushed against his stubble, and Ethan felt a wave of tingles run down his back. Bela whispered, "Thank you for the gift." She rested her head on Ethan's chest, and there was a momentary pause before she added, "It means a lot to me." She squeezed his midsection. "I appreciate the thoughtfulness."
Ethan draped an arm over Bela's shoulder, leaning his head against hers. With his small smile unseen, he spoke back just as softly, "You're welcome."
They remained there for a while longer, content to bask in the peaceful silence of each other's presence – something they had not gotten to do in days now. Yet even those two short days they spent apart felt exceedingly long. The turmoil and spats of life-or-death encounters on both their sides effectively tripled the feeling of time apart. This was a peace neither of them had gotten since the last time they'd sat shoulder to shoulder on Ethan's mattress, chatting about anything and everything under the sun.
In time, Bela pulled away, moving as slowly and languidly as possible. She was still toying with the thick fabric of his sweater when she told him, "I shall set the jar aside. I'd rather not let it roll off the bed."
Ethan watched Bela get to her feet, cradling the jar securely as she walked to her desk. She set it down on a vacant space by her test tube rack. Her hand hovered over the surface of the desk before flipping open one of the notebooks – as if double checking its contents. She closed the small notebook and nudged it to the side to make space. Turning to Ethan, Bela began, "When –"
A knock came from the door leading to the dungeon.
Bela raised her brows in a look of pleasant surprise. "Well – right on time."
Connecting this to Bela's earlier brief absence, Ethan asked, "Dinner?"
Bela hummed in affirmation, approaching the door. Then she hesitated, hand pausing over the door handle. Her eyes landed on Ethan when she craned her head over her shoulder.
And suddenly, Ethan felt like he was in his early twenties again, back in Mia's dorm, about to be busted for trespassing during a late-night booty call.
Ethan couldn't keep the amusement from his voice, even as he spoke in a hushed tone. "What? No boys allowed in your room? You're like – what? Seventy years old? Aren't you passed that by now?"
Bela's jaw fell open, looking a tad flummoxed. When she didn't immediately reply, Ethan realized he was spot on, and she didn't want whoever was behind the door to realize she had company.
Though if Ethan had to really think about it, he should probably be as concerned as Bela was. The identity of the person knocking on that door determined how good or bad this could get. Best case scenario was a maid with some food. Worst case scenario was Lady Dimitrescu paying them an unexpected visit, in which case Ethan would be food.
The odds of the castle matriarch visiting them unannounced felt slim, so Ethan was still half-joking when he asked, "You want me to hide under the sheets or something?"
Bela shut her eyes, hanging her head back in defeat for just a bit. With a sharp shake of her head, she told him, "No, no – forget it. Just give me a hand with this."
Ethan pushed off the bed to approach Bela, just as she opened the door. The figure in the doorway wore the usual maid's black attire, with the white apron and the dark veil to obscure her features. In either hand, she balanced meal trays. A glance at her wrists revealed no telling bracelets. Bela, however, appeared to clock the maid in an instant when she spoke, "Ah, Tatyana. Thank you."
The straight back, set shoulders, and utter lack of discomfort should have given it away, Ethan realized. It seemed like, at least compared to the rest of the maids, it was Tatyana who did not shirk away from the Dimitrescu sisters.
Ethan stood by Bela's side to retrieve one of the trays. As he took the polished silver tray in his hands, he felt Tatyana's gaze on him from beneath the veil. Ethan settled on giving her a small nod out of courtesy. Their last conversation was still fresh in Ethan's mind.
He must have looked insane to Tatyana. Standing here by Bela's side, contentedly grabbing a tray to share a meal in his jailer's private quarters – it wasn't the behavior of a normal, rational person. But as Ethan had long since established, he was getting more irrational as the days went by, and he no longer cared; as long as he was alive, and was getting closer to reuniting with Rose, rationality could go fuck itself.
That wasn't to say that Ethan had disregarded all that Tatyana had said. Those comparisons she had drawn to an abusive relationship were not just wild conjecture, or the ravings of a madwoman. They were measured observations and deductions, if not simply misplaced. Ethan wasn't too far gone to be blind to the slippery slope of what was growing between him and Bela. He was fully aware of the power imbalance and the very possible Stockholm Syndrome he'd fallen to.
But all of that changed when adding every ounce of nuance that arose from he and Bela's odd relationship. There was no ill intent. Bela did nothing but treat him well and do what was best for him. There was no abuse of power. From the start, Bela had extended every courtesy available to him, always asking for his permission before sitting by his side (or before joining him in the bathroom, in this case). There was no manipulation, and there were no skeletons in their closets. Bela was as open as could be, and there was little doubt in Ethan's mind that he would only learn more of Bela as the days turned into more weeks. It was no longer a question of if but when Bela would open up about her past – the good, the bad, and the horrifically bloody.
Somehow, against all sense and logic and normalcy, they had navigated this – whatever this was – away from a potentially toxic area. Ethan had not been in many relationships in his life, but he would hazard to say that this thing with Bela was healthier than he could have hoped for.
"Tatyana," Bela's voice broke Ethan from his ruminations. Her voice was heavy and serious, and Ethan could see the tight grip Bela had on her meal tray. "You saw nobody else here today. Am I understood?"
A pause, and Tatyana nodded her veiled head. "Of course, Lady Bela."
"Very well. Be on your way now."
With a courteous bow, Tatyana turned and departed, leaving Ethan and Bela alone in her room. Bela led the way over to her desk, and Ethan took that chance to ask, "You worried she's gonna tell your mom?"
Bela set her tray down and sighed. "Honestly, I am surprised mother has not already barged in here to question the amount of time I spend with you."
That didn't sound like a fun encounter. If it did unfold, Ethan only hoped he would be far away when it happened, maybe in the safety of his cell. Not that it would help much, considering those wicked claws Lady Dimitrescu sported. Rather than dwell on it, Ethan set his tray down next to Bela's. "You don't trust Tatyana to keep her trap shut about us?"
"As I mentioned before, Tatyana is the grand chambermaid," Bela explained as she walked over to her dresser to retrieve a second chair. It had a tall backrest and was fully padded, similar to the desk chair. "Tatyana reports directly to mother and cares for Rosemary when mother is away. I cannot say for certain that she will not tell mother you were here in my quarters."
Ethan took a step to the side, allowing Bela to slide the second chair into place for him. He gave a grateful nod before asking, "What's the worst that could happen if she does?"
Those claws. Those claws that were as long as Ethan was tall would happen.
Bela's lips parted, but no answer came. She licked her lips, shrugged, then admitted, "I am not sure. Obviously, mother cannot kill you, since Miranda has a vested interest in you. The worst she may resort to is torture, out of some sense of motherly protectiveness."
If Lady Dimitrescu would go medieval on him, Ethan may just get a hand lopped off. A very literal punishment for daring to put his filthy hands on her precious daughter.
Come to think of it, Ethan would be lucky to lose only a hand if Lady Dimitrescu had found them in the bathroom and heard all the sounds her daughter was producing.
Ethan's stomach grumbled with unease.
All mothers appeared to be the same in that regard.
Mia's father had been surprisingly friendly and took Ethan's kitchen blunders in stride. Over their takeout dinner, he'd given Ethan a crash course in oven-roasted chicken.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Mia's mother had all but interrogated Ethan over his intentions with her daughter. All that was missing was a blinding light shined into his face, or maybe a quick waterboarding session to loosen him up.
"But fret not," Bela smiled, "I will do what I can to ensure it does not come to that… unless you keep annoying me, in which case you are on your own."
"Wow," The sarcasm dripped from Ethan's voice as he sat down, "glad to know I can count on you."
All Ethan got in reply was a wink, and Bela's endlessly charming smile.
Dinner was a simple but homely meal (and it was not amiss to Ethan how odd it was to have found a new homely meal while in captivity). A bed of steaming hot polenta topped with cheese, half a dozen sarmale rolls, and a generous side of sour cream. The usual crystalline pitcher ensured they had enough water to wash down the hearty dinner.
After swallowing a mouthful of the delightfully spiced sarmale – with ground pork, Ethan noted – he asked, "Don't you usually have dinner with the family?"
Bela wiped her lips with a white napkin before anything else. Once she began speaking, she sounded decidedly bittersweet, "Mother still has not returned from her trip beyond the castle. She must be very preoccupied with work."
Ethan could picture the towering Lady Dimitrescu in a blazer and suit pants, punching in her timecard at the office. God help the HR staff who try to scold her for drinking bloody wine while on the clock.
"What, uh," Ethan cleared his throat, banishing the imagery from his mind, "What does your mom do for Miranda anyway?"
"During your time in the village, did you ever encounter any flying… bioweapons?"
Ethan shook his head.
"There is a variant of the Moroaice called the Samce," Bela explained, pausing to take a sip of water. "They can fly."
When Bela did not laugh or indicate she was joking, Ethan grumbled, "Why am I not surprised? What's next – a dragon?" He huffed and shook his head sharply, asking instead, "Your mom… makes them?"
"That is putting it simply, but yes. That is her responsibility in Miranda's army. Similar to how Moreau is responsible for creating the varcolaci," Bela gestured as she added, "The wolf-like beasts as large as bears."
After a brief lull to allow sufficient chewing and swallowing, Ethan motioned with his fork as he asked, "And the other Lords – what do they do?"
"Donna cultivates hallucinogenic pollen."
That didn't sound so bad. Ethan had his fair share of experience with psychedelics, once upon a time. A little trip never hurt anyone.
"It is imbued with mold spores, and sends people into a violent frenzy. This often results in total mental breakdown, and death by suicide – unless someone else puts them to rest in retaliation for their attacks."
Oh.
Ethan winced, "So she weaponizes the pollen?"
"She only grows and gathers it. The lycans do most of the work with it. It is surprising, but they are adept at archery." Bela raised her brows, as if she had not expected it either.
"Yeah," Ethan muttered. "No shit." He can't say he expected it, but he certainly experienced it firsthand – what with the arrow he took to the leg and all.
"Donna's the doll? That creepy annoying thing?" Ethan asked.
"Well, Angie is the doll," Bela shook her head. "Donna speaks through Angie."
Ethan squinted at his companion. "Like a ventriloquist?"
Bela snorted, but was quick to shake her head in the negative. "She is… something else. The mold apparently gave Angie her own personality, and allows her to move on her own." Bela rubbed a thumb over the side of her fork for a moment's contemplation. Then, she shrugged and added, "I honestly do not know the specifics, now that you mention it."
It was weird, but weird just seemed to be the standard in this valley. It was hardly any more of a head scratcher than an ugly toad guy, a nine-foot-something vampire woman, or a homeless Magneto.
"As for Karl," Bela went on, "He produces weapons and armor for the lycans. You may have encountered some of them in the village."
"A couple, yeah." Ethan nodded. He was pretty sure he'd caught shrapnel from his own bullets ricocheting off the lycans' iron armor at one point or another. "You mentioned your mom never tells you anything about work. Did Heisenberg tell you all of that?"
With her mouth full of polenta, Bela simply hummed in answer.
Chris really had his work cut out for him out there. Flying ghouls, giant werewolves, armored lycans, and frenzy-inducing biological warfare. Hound Wolf Squad must be getting run ragged trying to keep up with it all. Despite being severely outnumbered, they were clearly putting up a fight if the enemy had their numbers pegged at fifty. Fire superiority was a hell of a thing.
It was another little reminder of just how busy the rest of the valley was around them. While Ethan had been wrestling with the Moroaice and duking it out with Cassandra, guerilla warfare was being waged throughout the region.
The line of thought brought Ethan back to the previous day, and Bela's side of the story, which was still largely a mystery to him. He'd already shared with Bela his long day with Daniela. As tiring as it was, he had taken a liking to Daniela. He was happy to be friends with the redhead whenever she wasn't hitting on him or teetering on the edge of breaking his arm or snapping his neck. It was only right to ask Bela about her side of that day.
"You never did tell me what happened on your end yesterday." Ethan gathered a spoonful of polenta and sarmale, watching Bela for reactions.
Bela appeared taken off guard, as her fork paused midway to her mouth. She fiddled with the utensil for a moment, eyes avoiding Ethan's.
"I got your note last night," Ethan continued, "I figure I owe you another one, considering I'm still alive and mostly intact."
The tiredness appeared to seep back into Bela's features – like just recalling the day's events was enough to get her exhausted all over again. Ethan couldn't blame her for that. She was still running on little to no sleep at this point. Once dinner wrapped up, she really ought to go to bed.
"Cassandra and I cleaned up your mess," Bela spoke rather flatly. "I imagine you have no need for the smaller details. Unless you wish to know the amount of Lei I spent replacing the broken furniture. Or maybe the ratio of white vinegar to dishwashing soap which we used to get the blood out of the carpets." She shrugged one shoulder and added, "Or how many trips it took Tatyana and Cassandra to haul the bodies out of the cellar."
Ethan wore a slight frown as he felt a tinge of remorse. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to deal with all that."
Bela shook her head. "We are past it now, and that is what matters."
Just the same, Ethan did not let it go so easily. "I'm just curious… in your note, you said your mom wouldn't blame me for what happened. How'd you manage that?"
When Bela gave no prompt answer, Ethan offered a smile. "I mean… I'm glad I'm not in any deep shit, but," He glanced towards the door – towards the lower dungeons. "I did a lot of damage down there. Couldn't have been easy for you to get that under control."
They held one another's gaze for a while longer, Bela chewing on her bottom lip the whole time. Once she resolved whatever mental battle went around in her head, she admitted, "Cassandra helped me."
"What?" Ethan's disbelief slipped out of his lips before he could even think to reel it in. "The same Cassandra who cut my fucking finger off? She's the one who orchestrated the whole shitshow. Why would she help you?"
Why would she help him?
Bela's tattooed forehead creased in a frown. "I know the two of you are at odds, and I am sorry it has come to that. But, believe it or not, there is more to Cassandra than death and torment."
Oh – for sure, that made it perfectly excusable. Ethan too enjoyed chopping people's fingers off and dragging them into fucked up games by threatening their children – perfectly normal behavior.
The rising anger was curbed by Daniela's words from the day prior.
'She was different,' Daniela had said. Years of horrific nightmares, and hunting alongside Bela had turned Cassandra into who she was now. There had been a time Daniela and Cassandra could talk for hours on end, and there was no doubt in Ethan's mind that it absolutely destroyed Daniela to not have that same Cassandra around today.
It prevented the fierce curl from setting into the corner of Ethan's lip. It stopped whatever hateful remark from tumbling out. Ethan took a deep breath and waited for Bela to elaborate. He busied his restless hands with scooping up the rest of his food now that he was nearly done.
"All the bodies were removed by the time my mother arrived in the storeroom," Bela explained. "There was no evidence of where your fight had taken place." A gulp down Bela's throat, and she continued, "We told mother that the fight unfolded in the storeroom itself, and the Moroaice must have knocked the shelf down in the struggle."
Chewing on the last of his sarmale, Ethan nodded slowly, mulling the thoughts over. Without all the fresh blood and bodies, it sounded plausible. Anyone seeing the cleaned-up crime scene could easily believe the cover story. It was all the more believable when not one daughter was confirming it, but two of them – especially the daughter who hated his guts and would see him strung up on hooks if she could.
The why continued to hang in the air, but Bela did not delay this time.
"I may have…" Bela set her utensils down on her empty plate. "Opened up to Cassandra." She averted her eyes from Ethan's, and the familiar shyness crept into her voice. "About how I care about you."
Ethan gave Bela a small smile and nodded in encouragement to go on.
"To put it simply, underneath all those sharp edges, Cassandra cares about her family. She cares about me." Bela motioned to Ethan, "She knew mother would never forgive you for destroying the shelf. She knew your punishment would be severe, and that it would hurt me to see you suffer."
A small shrug, and Bela smiled, "And Cassandra did not want to hurt me."
So even the devil's spawn herself had a heart. Maybe hell would freeze over next.
Ethan would have to see it to truly believe it, but he could take Bela's word for it. He wasn't looking forward to the next time he inevitably crossed Cassandra's path – but at least certain death was off the table (for now).
"Your family's really something else, you know that?" Ethan mused.
Bela laughed softly, but nodded. Seeing that both their trays were empty, Bela stood, picking hers up. Ethan followed her lead, taking his tray as well. They proceeded over to the door as Bela chimed, "You've already endeared yourself to Dani. I am sure you will be fast friends with Cassandra in no time."
Ethan was more likely to be fast food to Cassandra than anything else. Just the thought of talking to the witch without starting a brawl made Ethan's skin crawl. Eating broken glass was more enticing than having a conversation with that psychopath.
For Bela's sake, Ethan kept his thoughts to himself, and his doubtful gaze was unseen, fixed to the back of Bela's blonde head. He voiced his skepticism in less colorful terms, "You know, I kinda get the feeling that's not true."
It got a laugh from Bela as she opened the door, and promptly set her tray down just outside the doorway. As she straightened up and made room for Ethan, she replied, "The two of you already have the common ground of loathing one another. That is a wonderful start if you ask me."
"Hilarious," Ethan muttered under his breath. He set the tray down and stood back, giving Bela the clearance to close the door and lock it shut.
The question was plain in Ethan's eyes when they looked at one another. Bela answered his question with one of her own, "Would you prefer that we get an unexpected visit from my sisters?"
"Point taken."
They made their way back to Bela's desks and took up the same seats as before.
Bela suppressed a yawn, placing the back of her dainty hand over her mouth. She leaned an elbow on the desk, propping her chin up in her hand. Smiling, Bela told him, "It truly means a lot to me that you befriended Daniela. She's a sweet girl, she just… has a few problems."
Ethan would say that Daniela's murderous mood swings and compulsive habits were a little more than just a few problems – but he nodded anyway. "You're the doctor here, Bela – what's going on with Dani?"
A soft huff of a laugh, and Bela raised a finger, "First of all, I was not technically a doctor."
Rolling his eyes, Ethan told her, "I'm sure the government's not gonna fine you for unlicensed practice."
Bela shook her head and continued, "I stitched people back together in my time. I did not diagnose and treat problems of the mind."
Ethan tilted his head, watching Bela closely for a moment longer – he knew her well enough by now to know this wasn't the end of that. On cue, Bela sighed, almost in defeat, and admitted, "Okay – perhaps I did some reading the past few years to try and better understand Dani."
"What's the diagnosis?"
"Again – nothing official and nothing certain. I am not qualified for that." With that disclaimer, Bela finally answered, "As you may have noticed, Dani has these compulsive urges."
"Yeah," Ethan nodded and gestured as he spoke, "The lights, the books, the shelves – she's trying to arrange them a certain way."
"Exactly. Dani performs these acts to deal with the obsessive thoughts in her mind. The thoughts relating to that perfect image of the library she can never recreate." Bela tilted her head, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She looked ready to sink right into the hand she was leaning her head on. "If she does not perform her rituals with the lights and the books, she becomes highly anxious. She believes something terrible will happen to her, or her mind – though she will not say that outright." Bela huffed softly, adding, "Dani had a breakdown after my last attempt at an intervention. It was not pretty. Whatever help I tried to give her was all for naught."
There was some relief to be found knowing that Bela had observed everything Ethan had – and so concisely put it all down in a way Ethan's messy thoughts struggled to do so. It appeared Bela did not at all just leave Daniela in the dark like he had once worried. Perhaps, more realistically, Bela had just gotten stumped.
"That is just the tip of the iceberg, of course," Bela blew out a sigh and closed her eyes. Her free hand settled on the table, and she popped one finger after another as she spoke, "There is still all the paranoia, and the rapid switch of her temper. Her varying personalities when she's with Cassandra or myself. The violent tendencies and the delayed feelings of guilt… the disassociation from herself and her emotions." Eyes still shut, Bela shook her head slightly, "There is far too much that goes on in Daniela's mind."
"Any idea what caused it?" Ethan asked, as the scar in the redhead's hairline came to mind. He watched a furrow form on Bela's brow above her resting eyes. Ethan looked away, trying not to stare at her delicate features too much. He turned his gaze towards the crackling fireplace instead.
"In normal people, there are a myriad of causes. Could be trauma. Could be hereditary. Could be chemical imbalances in the brain… I tried to address it that way once." Bela paused only to yawn again. "I ordered prescription medication from the Duke."
Ethan's brows all but reached his hairline as the connection was drawn. It clicked into place so sharply he could nearly hear it in his skull. The orange pill bottles in Daniela's medicine cabinet – that had been Bela's doing.
"Unfortunately, they did not yield any positive results." Out of the corner of Ethan's eye, he could see Bela raise one shoulder in a slight shrug. "Our hormonal makeup is only similar to that of a normal human. Even with varying doses and different prescriptions, the medicine did nothing for Dani." Quietly, Bela added, "Therapy may be her best bet, but I…"
Bela was quiet. Ethan gave her the time she needed to search for the words as he set his own elbow down on the table, cradling his head on his hand as he stared at the fire. He had only spent a single day with Daniela, but the emotional and mental toll it had taken was beyond words. If the minefield of avoiding setting her off wasn't bad enough, there was the sheer heaviness of dealing with her loaded feelings.
It was a lot for one person – and Bela couldn't reasonably be expected to shoulder all of Daniela's burdens on her own. While it was always a noble and gold hearted effort to help a friend (or in this case, a sister by rebirth), you had to also look out for yourself. There was no helping other people, if you yourself were run ragged and unable to function, especially if you had your own baggage to deal with – and Ethan knew Bela was loaded with her own emotional burdens. The duality of her human life and her bloodsucking life ate at her, and he could only imagine how bad it had been in the years prior to his arrival in the castle.
That was a lesson Ethan and Mia had learned following the Baker Incident – they had both been so traumatized to hell and back, and they couldn't fix or heal each other alone. Try as they might, they would only argue, and the shadow of Dulvey would loom over them. It would inevitably knock them back to square one; their emotional scars were unhealed, and the unspeakable heaviness weighing over them would be unlifted.
Aside from the medication, it took them years of therapy to truly return to a semblance of normalcy. They had the BSAA to thank for that – as apparently, they had plenty of experience helping people who'd been traumatized by encounters with bioweapons. Even until now, Ethan hardly considered himself fixed or normal. Healing was an ongoing process that needed work, and it never stopped.
All of that had to apply to Daniela if she were to ever overcome her troubles. She needed a support system, and Bela couldn't do it alone, and Ethan could never blame her for faltering. Perhaps together, they stood a better chance of helping Daniela temper her emotions and her moods. Throw in Cassandra if she cared as much as Bela claimed she did, and perhaps they would make some headway with her – even if none of them were technically qualified to help Daniela. Their help was better than nothing.
Though Bela had glossed over Ethan's question to a degree – she'd jumped right into what she tried to do to help, rather than dwell on possible causes. There was no way the scar on Daniela's head was just nothing. Ethan was willing to bet that, while not necessarily being the key to helping Daniela, it would offer a degree of understanding why she was the way she was.
"Hey, Bela – what about that scar?" Ethan slowly tore his eyes away from the fire to look at Bela, "Dani's got this…"
Bela was fast asleep, propped up with her cheek nestled in the palm of her hand. Her chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths.
Ethan felt a smile creep up to his face. If he still had his phone, this would be the part he'd snap a picture of Bela's dozing self – just to tease her with it later on.
"Bela," Ethan called her name softly. He knew firsthand how much of a bitch it was to fall asleep sitting up. Bela would feel all the worse half-hunched over the table like that – but knowing her, Ethan had a feeling this wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep at her desk. Gently, he repeated, "Bela."
Nothing.
Ethan's head swiveled around, taking in his surroundings and making note of the miscellaneous light sources. Once he got another look at Bela, a yawn crept up on him, and he stifled it with his hand.
As deeply as he'd slept last night, it was far from comfortable. Ethan wouldn't mind hitting the hay early. Getting eight hours of sleep was godsent back in the day. He wouldn't mind getting twelve hours tonight.
Ethan pushed off the chair and silently padded around the room. One by one, he snuffed out the various candles and lights casting their warm glow on the room. All that remained in the end was the fireplace, the flames swaying along to an unheard rhythm as the burning wood released soft crackles and pops.
"Bela," Ethan stopped at her side and called to her gently, to no avail. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. Raising his voice to its normal volume, he said, "Don't make me carry you to bed."
All Ethan got in reply was the slightest of hums.
Another yawn snuck up on Ethan. He looked over at the fireplace, and the nest of pillows bundled up in front of it. It looked like a cozy place to crash for the evening, and would probably give him far less back pain than the desk chair.
He turned his attention back to Bela, and decided he may as well take matters into his own hands. "Okay," Ethan muttered, "You asked for it."
Ethan looped Bela's arm around his neck, expecting her to finally wake up. She gave a mumble in response, sounding vaguely like his name. When Bela stirred no further, Ethan proceeded to slide one arm around her slender back, and another underneath her legs. Ethan scooped Bela up with no resistance and little difficulty. She was out like a light.
It wasn't the first time he'd tucked a sleeping woman into bed. God knows how many times Mia had crashed while studying all night – back in college, she was perpetually tired. If she wasn't seen with a coffee in hand, it was a can of Redbull instead, and dark circles etched beneath her eyes. After sneaking into one another's dorms, it was only common courtesy for Ethan to tuck Mia into bed afterwards, then crawl in alongside her.
Bela's head lolled to the side, nuzzling into Ethan's neck. Her warm breath made his hair stand on end. The sensation hit a little too close to home.
Ethan swallowed hard and approached the bed. It hit him then – dumb as it was – he didn't know if Bela took the left side of the bed or the right. By default, Mia always took the left. It was so ingrained into him and Mia that, if it was a large bed, Ethan could seldom sleep easy if he was on the wrong side, even if he had it all to himself. When Mia had been presumed dead after the hurricane, and when he had nobody but the rain bouncing off his windows to keep him company, Ethan's bed felt all the larger – too large and lonely for just one shell of a man such as he.
With Bela sleeping in his arms, Ethan stood at the foot of the bed as the seconds ticked by. The realization struck him after some delay – he blamed his own drowsiness for that – Bela had an end table on the left side.
A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. If Bela and Mia could stop having so many things in common, that would be great.
Taking a breath, Ethan approached the left side of the bed. The royal blue sheets were already a mess, so it was easy to gently ease Bela down onto the mattress. That dress did not look like the most comfortable thing to pass out in. Though considering how tired Bela is, Ethan doubted she even noticed. If she wanted to change later on, then that was up to her. For now, Ethan just wanted her to be as cozied up as possible in her own bed.
To that end, Ethan took hold of Bela's legs, plucking her slippers off and setting them on the floor. His hands remained on the pale skin of her legs for a second longer – another ghostly familiar motion he'd gone through so many times before. He could blink and be back in Mia's tiny dorm, tucking her in just as the sun was threatening to peek through her blinds. Ethan consciously withdrew his hands before his throat could get any tighter as the memories bubbled to the surface.
Ethan took a seat on the edge of the mattress and slowly pulled the thick comforter up. Once it was in place, Bela's red pendant glinted in the dark; Ethan's earlier sentiments came to mind – of how all those edges and sharp angles hardly looked comfortable. With practiced hands, Ethan slid his fingers under Bela's slender neck, feeling for the clasp. Once it was located, Ethan unlocked the necklace and freed it. He held it in his hand to deposit it on the dresser before he crashed by the fireplace.
Bela stirred in the slightest then. Her hair spread out on the pillow, forming a messy blonde halo around her head. Even in the dim light, her hair was radiant. Ethan didn't second guess himself much when he reached out to tuck a few wavy strands of hair away from her face. His hand lingered there, thumb stroking a languid path across her cheek.
It put his heart at ease to finally see Bela resting. She'd been through much, and no small part of it had been on his behalf.
Ethan bit his lip for a moment to help suppress the urge to give her a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
Instead, Ethan removed his hand from her face and made to stand up.
Almost instantly, Bela stirred. Her eyes opened a crack, and she shifted her head to look at Ethan. He held her half-lidded gaze for a while, until Bela slowly pulled her arms out from under the covers. She reached out to take Ethan's hand with one hand, while the other landed on the spot next to her on the right side of the bed.
"Stay," Bela mumbled. Her lips pitched in a small smile, tired as it was. "Please."
Ethan gulped, and found it was far too easy to accept her invitation. He was already smiling back and whispering, "Okay."
The contentment shone bright on Bela's sleepy features. She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing him. Ethan made his way around the bed, giving a glance to the fireplace, and the nest of pillows he had nearly chosen as his bed for the evening.
At least he had a real bed to sleep on for the first time in a while.
Ethan set Bela's pendant down then emptied his pockets. His journal and Rose's bracelet were placed down on the dresser by his side.
The comforter was thick, and the room was pleasantly warm. Ethan didn't have much need for his sweater. If he were alone, he would have stripped down to his underwear without much thought. Sharing a bed with Bela was a whole different story though, and the more clothes they had between them, the better. With little further ceremony, Ethan eased himself into Bela's bed, on the right side.
All the ghosts of familiarity made themselves known to Ethan. The way his foot brushed against Bela's leg as he tucked himself in. The give of the mattress under Bela's slender body. The soft sound of her breaths in the darkness of their – her, he corrected himself – bedroom. All the sensations and feelings he'd not shared with anyone but his late wife.
Another yawn came, and Ethan pressed his hand to his lips. Looking at his bedmate for the evening, Ethan found Bela was out cold once again, a small smile persisting on her lips. He allowed himself a moment to admire her in the dim glow coming from the fireplace.
This was foreign territory for the two of them, crossed so easily and with little second thought. While it wasn't the first time they'd shared a bed, it was the first time there had been no pretense at all to its initiation. The last time had been for Bela to share her body heat with Ethan. Now, there were no excuses to hide behind. Bela had asked him to join her, and that was that.
It was difficult to dissect it. To look at all the similarities and comparisons with Mia – even if he had been doing so without the slightest ill intent. His heart ached just the same to look too deeply into it – to think of Mia, and how he would never again climb into bed with her the way he had just done so with Bela.
Ethan chose to instead be grateful for Bela's support and understanding, and how pivotal she was to making the hurt bearable. It was easier to simply appreciate her and all she did for him. So, Ethan contented himself to do just that, and not ponder just how in deep he was. His eyes drifted away from Bela's sleeping form. He shifted around slowly to avoid waking Bela, and faced his back to her – to help keep away the thoughts of cuddling up to her side. He was happy enough to just feel the sink of the mattress behind him, and hear her steady breathing intermingling with the soft crackles of the fireplace.
And – even though he hadn't even really thought of it – he did not for a moment consider pretending that the person sleeping behind him was Mia.
Ethan was happy it was Bela with him. That was enough. Bela was Bela, and she was enough. He would never pretend she was anyone else. No matter how much he missed Mia enough to bring him to tears. No matter how much he loved Mia from the very depths of his heart. No matter how much Mia's loss cut him to his core.
Ethan drifted away into sleep, easier than he had in recent memory.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Be sure to hit those fave and follow buttons, then leave me a review to let me know how you liked this one! It's always an absolute joy to hear from you all.
See? Didn't take me that long to get these two into bed again :P There's a good bit of reflection from Ethan in this, and I think he's just in that stage now. With how much puppy dog eyes he and Bela give each other, it can be easy to forget how freshly widowed Ethan is. His love for Mia is such a core part of his character as I portray him, so she's never far from his thoughts when I write him. So we see here how Ethan's starting to reconcile his love for Mia, which isn't going anywhere, and these new un-nameable feelings he's developing for Bela. I hope you like this increasingly grey area that these two are fooling around in for now.
Next chapter's slated to go up on the weekend of the 27th at the earliest. I'm feeling good about my odds of getting the chapter up by then, as I've been able to get some writing done recently. Cross all your fingers for me that I can keep that going.
I think that's it from me for now. Thank you all once again for all the support and patience. I hope you all stay safe out there, and I'll catch you around at the next update. Cheers!
