Bela awoke from a long, thankfully dreamless sleep, slowly blinking her way to consciousness. A soft droning close to her side alerted her of Ethan, still sound asleep and rolled onto his side with his back to her. His gentle snoring was nearly imperceptible, and the rhythmic sound put a smile on her face.
The tranquility of mornings such as these were a priceless gift, and Bela reveled in it. After years of waking up to her nightmares alone, with nothing but her strangled gasps of air to keep her company – having Ethan by her side was a blessing. He reminded Bela of how peaceful and blissful life could sometimes be.
Her hand hovered over Ethan's back for just a beat – tempted to wrap around him and press a kiss to his neck. She doubted he would be any bit opposed to such a wakeup call. In his shoes, Bela certainly would not have minded if he did the same to her.
Bela refrained at the last moment. Ethan didn't often sleep soundly, and so it was better that he be granted the respite while it lasted. After last night's brawl with Cassandra, Ethan could use all the rest he could get. A glance over to her clock revealed that it was still early in the morning, and Bela had time to get cleaned up and ready for her day.
As slowly and cautiously as possible, Bela slipped out from under the blankets. She padded across her bedroom on bare feet, suppressing a yawn as she went. Peaceful sleep often eluded her as well, and so Bela was glad she had slumbered soundly last night – especially after her mother's impromptu visit. Luck was on their side for once, and the castle matriarch had neither detected Ethan hiding in the bathroom, nor seen through Bela's blatant lies. Exhaustion was probably to credit for her mother's intuition being faulty.
Bela slipped into the bathroom, silent as a mouse. Even in the darkness, she moved with perfect precision born from years of routine. The matchbox was retrieved, and the lights in the bathroom came to life with soft, dancing flames. She combed her messy blonde hair back using her fingers, doing what she could to undo the odd tangles and knots here and there; if anything, they were a sign of how well she had slept the night prior.
With her hair out of her face, Bela turned her faucet on and bent down. She splashed the water into her face, rubbing her skin and washing away the lingering drowsiness. When she was satisfied, she turned the faucet off and straightened up to look at the mirror.
Bela took in a sharp gasp, taking a quick step backwards.
The mirror did not reflect her sleepy visage in her low-cut nightgown. Instead, her reflection stared back at her, blood splattered all over her face, neck, and hair, shadowed by a dark hood. When her reflection tilted her head to get a better look, Bela got an eyeful of her pristine, pearly white teeth, and the sickening smile she wore. Her reflection shifted her weight from one foot to the other, dark dress swaying in place, and a small crowd of flies flittering in the air around her.
Strigoaica Bălaie let out a low giggle and greeted, "Hello, little one."
Instantly, Bela snapped back, taking a forceful step forward, "Don't call me that." She lowered her voice to a growl, "Do not call me that."
Her reflection's face twisted to one of surprise, and the flies circling her grew in volume. She soon spoke, her tone sounding offended – or a mockery of what being offended sounded like. "Aww… and why not?" The false hurt on her face vanished in favor of a deranged smile, "For many, many people, that was the last thing they heard before we killed them."
"You killed them," Bela snarled, pointing a shaking finger at the mirror. "You did that, not me."
Strigoaica Bălaie laughed, tossing her head back. As the sinister cackling died and gave way to a thick silence, she met Bela's gaze. "Oh… did I?" She bared her teeth in a sneer. "You think you're so smart, but you're too stupid to see the truth – too blinded to see it."
"And what is that?" Bela scoffed, "Enlighten me."
Incredulity flashed across her reflection's face. She spread her arms in a theatrical gesture and said, "That you and I are one and the same."
"We are not the same," Bela shot back.
Strigoaica Bălaie shook her head and tsked, "Please." She gripped the sink so she could lean closer to the mirror. "You are only lying to yourself." Bela's visage in the mirror dismissed her, in favor of inspecting what looked like meat caught between her teeth.
"Stop talking."
Her reflection's eyes flitted once to Bela's sides – where her hands were balled into fists. "Those hands that hold your precious Ethan and his little spawn Rosie… they are the same hands that killed all those men, women, and children." Strigoaica Bălaie ceased checking her teeth to look at Bela in earnest, sending her a wink. "Even those people you held dear. Did you already forget?"
It was a lie. Bela could not accept that as fact. That wasn't her. If she had even a fraction of her memories when she'd awoken on that operating table, she would not have done any of those things. The terrible local legend of Strigoaica Bălaie would not have been born if she had awoken with all her faculties.
They were not the same.
They couldn't be.
Bela unclenched her jaw to repeat in a shaking voice, "Stop."
Her reflection grinned wider, bringing a finger up to her bloody lips. Strigoaica Bălaie slid a finger into her mouth, tasting the scarlet smeared on her skin. Her voice carried a dreamy lilt to it, "These lips that kissed Ethan are the same lips that drank more blood than you could have ever conceived of."
"Stop!" Bela swung her fist forward, cracking the mirror.
Bela's stomach turned at the sight that awaited her. Strigoaica Bălaie only looked more twisted and menacing through the cracked shards. Her devilish grin appeared thrice as wide, and the malice in her entire being radiated through the mirror – no amount of damage to the glass would stop it.
Bela glanced down at her shaking hands – thoroughly regretting the decision. Her unblemished, unscarred hands trembled, and it was not long before Strigoaica Bălaie found her mark again.
The devil in the mirror giggled, "Look at that. You cannot even bleed like a normal person, yet you wish to pretend to be one? Pathetic," She scoffed and tilted her head, her face multiplying and dividing across the dozens of cracks running along the surface of the mirror. Her expression just as quickly softened, her brows pitching as she chided gently, "You're a monster, little one." Strigoaica Bălaie changed faces faster than Bela could blink, and the hideous, toothy smile returned, "You're a monster, and you can run from that truth all you want, but you can never hide from it. The truth will always catch you, Strigoaica Bălaie."
"Don't call me that," Bela snapped.
"Why shouldn't I?" Her reflection sneered across the cracks, baring a hundred different gruesome teeth. "That's what they called us for years. Face it. This is who we are. Do not forget it."
"No. You're not real." Bela shook her head, wincing as a low giggle filled her skull. The monster in the mirror leaned closer, a dozen different dark eyes gleaming at her. "What would your darling Ethan think when he finds out everything you've done?"
A lump formed in Bela's throat.
Ethan was reasonable. He was kind and understanding, and if anyone could look at her staggering body count without flinching, it would be Ethan. He would still accept her. He had to. Bela did not know what she would do with herself if he didn't.
Strigoaica Bălaie tilted her head across the broken shards in the mirror. "What will he think when he finds out that even our sisters were not spared of our lies and manipulation?"
"How quickly do you think he will leave you when you tell him all those pretty little secrets of yours?" Through the cracks in the mirror, Strigoaica Bălaie rolled her eyes. "Do you even have the courage to tell him? Or will Daniela or Cassandra do it for you?"
"I'll tell him," Bela grunted in response; bile trickled up her throat, tightening her airways.
"You said that a week ago," Strigoaica Bălaie shot back just as quickly.
Drawing a shaky breath, Bela insisted, "I will tell him when I am ready."
"Not that it will do any good," Her reflection tsked audibly, shaking her head across the cracks, "He will leave you when he learns the truth – when he learns that we're monsters." The malice and sheer malevolence radiated through the mirror – enough to make Bela's stomach turn. "We are killers, torturers, liars, and manipulators. We rend flesh and bathe in the terror we sow, all for a little bit of fun." A pause, allowing Strigoaica Bălaie to leer at Bela between the cracks of glass. "Monsters like us do not deserve people like Ethan, Strigoaica –"
"Shut up!" Bela lunged and threw her fist forward with all her weight.
The mirror shattered in an explosion of glass, and the wooden backing splintered. When Bela yanked her fist back, all that remained of the mirror were miniscule shards of glass clinging to the frame; a gaping hole revealed the contents of the wooden medicine cabinet behind the mirror.
For a beat, there was silence, save for Bela's ragged, hyperventilating breaths, and the ringing in her ears.
Then the low giggling returned, intensifying in Bela's head, along with the wing beats of a swarm of phantom flies. One did not simply banish Strigoaica Bălaie, and Bela was a fool for thinking a smashed mirror was all it would take.
There was little time to process the tricks her mind played on her. Over the taunting laughter, Bela could make out hurried footfalls from beyond the door. Her hand shot out to lock it just in time as the knob wriggled from the attempted entry.
"Bela, you okay?" Ethan's alarmed voice called out from behind the door, paired by a heavy knocking.
The blonde in question drew in a shuddering breath.
The truth will always catch you, Strigoaica Bălaie. We're monsters.
Bela pressed her back to the door, and slowly slid all the way down to the floor. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes in the effort to shut out the haunting visage of her twisted past self in the mirror.
"Bela?" Ethan asked again, the doorknob still rattling.
Clearing her throat, Bela fought to steady the tremble in her voice, "I'm okay. I just slipped."
Ethan didn't need to know about her ongoing mental breakdown, or the tears that had begun to trickle down her face. The man had enough things to worry about without her adding to it. She did not want to be a burden to the man – another problem to deal with.
That's what she was, after all – her psyche had just taken it upon herself to remind her of that in a very direct manner.
She was a monster. Death and ruin followed her even in the ten years she attempted to amend her wrongs. Every prisoner she locked up would wind up disemboweled within days, despite her best attempts. Maids were butchered and bottled up for the smallest infractions. No matter how much she tried, it was all for naught. The concept of a sustainable, cruelty-free blood farm was lost on her sisters when instant gratification was that much sweeter.
Sure, Ethan was different. Miranda gave explicit orders to keep him alive, and he had an impact on Bela's sisters that the average prisoner did not – they could not even compare by a longshot. But that did not change the fact that so long as Ethan remained in Bela's life, the final outcome would be the same, one way or another.
Death and ruin would come to Ethan and Rose. Bela's track record had proven as much already. Statistically, Ethan and his daughter were more likely to perish like every other prisoner in this godforsaken castle, than escape unharmed.
One fuck up after another, and Ethan and Rose were next on that list. It was just a waiting game until it all came to a head and her worst fears were realized.
Strigoaica Bălaie was right. Bela knew it deep down, even as she tried to deny it with all her might.
She was a monster, and there were no happy endings for monsters like her.
"If it's any consolation," Daniela craned her head back to smile at Ethan, "That nose of yours is as adorable as I remember."
Ethan squinted at Daniela over his easel and canvas. "Thanks, I guess."
It had taken an hour or so, but Ethan had just completed his recollection of yesterday's events. At first, Ethan was torn over including the visit to Rose. After all, it was a delicate subject in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't only his ass on the line if Lady Dimitrescu learned of Ethan and Bela's little fieldtrip. But in the end, Daniela was a confidante and friend, even if she could be such a gossip; she could be trusted to keep the clandestine reunion under wraps. Ethan glossed over how he'd ambushed Bela with a kiss, guiding the narration instead over to how well-cared for Rose was.
Daniela's whole expression lightened the more Ethan spoke. She smiled like a flower in bloom when Ethan revealed the meticulous care Rose was being given – and how Lady Dimitrescu had turned her bedroom into a childproof bunker; she spared no expense to ensure Rose had everything she needed.
Ethan also spoke at length of Cassandra's arrival and the fight that followed. He didn't shy away from the details – and how he enjoyed beating Cassandra into the ground a little too much. Daniela had listened with concern and sadness in her eyes, and her paintbrush fiddling between her fingers.
They had not gotten a lot of painting done as a result of how much Ethan's story had gripped Daniela. The forest landscape they had meant to paint along together was still in the beginning stages. Since the redhead had taken it upon herself to teach Ethan how to paint in acrylic, she was seated a few feet ahead of Ethan, with her back to him. It gave Ethan a clear look at her canvas so he could follow along, while Daniela would periodically stand up and round his canvas to see his progress.
Daniela held her palette and brush in one hand, pivoting on her chair to face Ethan fully. She gripped fistfuls of her dark dress in beats – seemingly parsing through her thoughts, before she spoke up. She motioned with the palette and brush as she asked, "Do you want to know what I think?"
Ethan nodded. "Yeah, please. Go ahead."
"If Cassie asked you to come back for another spar, I think she's fond of you."
"Fond is a strong word." Ethan snorted.
Daniela shook her head, red hair bouncing and gleaming in the light of the atelier. "Bear with me here. Cassie is using you as an outlet. I doubt it's as personal as you think it is – especially after last night."
Ethan's eyes remained narrowed at Daniela when he asked, "What makes you so sure? After that shit with the broken wall, isn't it nothing but personal now?"
"Because," Daniela huffed in a flare of irritation, a loose couple of flies buzzing above her head, "If what you told me is true, then there's no more score to settle! Cassie knows you could've thrown her through that wall, but didn't."
Ethan hadn't bothered excluding that near-incident from his recollection. But he had not gone into too much detail either. Ethan had relayed the events as plainly and objectively as he could: the wall was damaged, Cassandra was going to crash them both through the wall, and Ethan put his face on the line to prevent it. Literally.
He spared Daniela the details of how badly he'd wanted to put Cassandra through the crumbling wall – how his hands itched at the thought of caving her skull in with a loose brick. All that mattered in his retelling to Daniela was that he could have grievously harmed Cassandra, but didn't.
Daniela went on, speaking in that quick, almost excitable tone of hers, "Cassie is sharper than you think, Ethan. She knows when she's in over her head, and after last night, she won't be trying anything like that again." A small, hopeful smile, and Daniela added, "You'll see. Have some trust in little ol' me, okay?"
Ethan set his palette and brush down on the small table next to his easel. He studied Daniela's animated features for a moment – noting the absolute certainty with which she spoke. "Okay," Ethan sighed, "Let's say I take your word for it. Then why's she expecting me back there tonight, if not to beat the crap outta me? To use me as an outlet?"
Daniela mimicked Ethan, setting her painting tools down so she could clasp her hands on her lap. "Precisely. Cassandra has a lot of steam to blow off, and you are the prime candidate to help her. Whatever she has in store for tonight, I'm sure it will not be as… physical as last night."
Ethan scooted his chair to the side to ensure his easel did not block his line of sight to Daniela. He rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward as he asked, "How are you so sure? What if she really is just after a rematch, so she can bust my fucking nose again?" Ethan raised a hand up to stop himself, and then shook his head, "Actually, scratch that – if Cassandra looks at last night as a loss for her, then she's gonna break more than just my nose."
"Ethan," Daniela's tone bordered on scolding; another family of flies buzzed from her shoulders, only to quickly rejoin her form. She took a breath, let it out, and told him, "I know my sisters. You forget how close Cassie and I were in the early years. She can play nice, you'll see."
For his own sake, Ethan hoped Daniela was right. There was some comfort to be found in how sure Daniela was in her assessment, even if Ethan wasn't fully buying it. He chose to nod along instead.
"Don't worry about it too much, okay?" Daniela flashed a warm smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Hopefully," Ethan muttered under his breath before sliding back behind his easel. Daniela took that as her cue to resume their lesson as well.
The minutes trickled by in companionable silence, only broken by Daniela's instruction and advice. Ethan followed as best as he could, the bristles of his paintbrush dancing across the textured surface of his canvas. It went without saying that Daniela's mastery was unmatched, but Ethan liked to think he wasn't doing too bad for a novice. The forest and the sun overhead found their basic colors on the canvas, and they began to work on the shadows and highlights – bringing the scenery to life.
An hour must have passed by the time Daniela stood behind Ethan, inspecting his work as she chimed, "You're very quiet today, Ethan." Her hand found his shoulder, which she squeezed. "And tense. Everything all right?"
Ethan released a tired sigh and shrugged. "I hope so."
"Is there anything you aren't telling me?"
Ethan could appreciate that Daniela's tone was curious rather than accusatory, as it had been when they were still getting to know each other.
His mind had been abuzz the past hour, trying desperately not to fixate on this morning's developments. The one thing other than Cassandra which currently occupied Ethan's head – she was blonde, acting strange, and smashed her bathroom mirror.
"It's Bela," Ethan muttered, eyes still fixed to his painting.
Earlier that morning, Ethan had awoken to the sounds of shattering glass, and Bela's panicked voice. It had him springing out of bed in an instant. It was a series of deflections from Bela before she finally opened the door to show that she was fine.
Yet anyone with two eyes could tell the opposite was true. The state of the bathroom alone was concerning; broken glass littered the floor, and the medicine cabinet was totaled. Bela had worn a deep frown on her face and avoided looking him in the eye the entire time; she gave Ethan little more than a few seconds to assess the situation before she shut the door again and got ready for her day.
Why Bela had broken the mirror was beyond Ethan, and he wasn't buying her excuse that she'd just slipped.
As if a simple slip could cause her to punch a head-level hole through the mirror.
Even if he did initially buy Bela's excuses, he wouldn't have for much longer when observing her behavior. Bela kept conversations brief, and at a minimum, rarely looking Ethan in the eyes as they spoke. She brushed past him in the morning to proceed to the kitchens and oversee breakfast preparations. The coffee they shared afterwards may have been hot, but the space between them was frigid. Bela sat as far away from Ethan as she could as they sipped in silence.
Any attempts Ethan made to ask her what was wrong were summarily shot down with a deflecting 'I'm fine.' Ethan had been married long enough to know that 'I'm fine,' meant that nothing was fine. The times Mia used that line on him, it meant everything was fucked.
Even last night's surprise visit from Lady Dimitrescu could not be attributed as the cause for Bela's polar shift in demeanor. After the towering woman had vacated the room, Ethan and Bela were back to laughing (quietly) like idiots over how close they had gotten to being caught – and how her mother would probably have a stroke if she saw Ethan exiting the bathroom with nothing but his pants on.
After getting cleaned up, Ethan and Bela retired to bed just as they had all the nights before – it was as if the kiss hadn't even happened to begin with. They fell asleep in a mess of tangled, tired limbs, as was custom for them these days.
So, Ethan could only deduce that something had happened in the morning after. Nothing else prior to that could have impacted Bela enough to make her so cold. And whatever happened, Ethan assumed it was something serious.
"What about Bela?" Daniela asked, shifting her weight from one side to the other.
Ethan turned in his seat to face the redhead, who watched him with quizzical eyes. If he wanted Daniela's full input, then she needed the full story – which included the details he'd left out.
No better way than to just get it out there.
Drawing in a breath, Ethan spat it out. "I kissed Bela yesterday."
Daniela's eyes widened, and her hands shot up to her mouth. When they lowered to hover over her chin, it gave way to her breathless, excited giggle. Daniela grinned wide, bouncing up and down as she laughed out, "Ethan!"
The reaction was to be expected, but Ethan winced just the same – and flinched when Daniela gave him a too-excited smack on the shoulder. "Hey!"
Daniela landed on Ethan's lap, faster than he could blink. She flung her arms around him in a big, tight hug. Her voice boomed next to his ear, "You kissed Bela!"
"Yeah, yeah – not so loud, we don't need the whole castle hearing you." Ethan chided Daniela gently. "Especially not your mom, if she gets back early."
Another giggle from Daniela before she pulled back just enough to look at Ethan. Her hands settled on his shoulders, and she tilted her head as she smiled. "I'm so happy for you two, I can't help it." When Ethan failed to return the enthusiasm, Daniela put on a small frown and asked, "So, what's wrong then? I thought the both of you would be happy now that you finally released that tension."
"That's the thing," Ethan leaned back in his seat to put a little more distance between his and Daniela's faces. His voice was decidedly flat, thanks to recent events; any excitement he had had been long since curbed. "We were okay at first, right? We kissed after Bela took me to Rose. Then the stuff with Cassandra happened, she patched me up, we went to bed –"
"You slept with my sister?!" Daniela's scandalized hands returned to her mouth, and her pale face flushed pink. But it was just as quickly that she placed her hands on Ethan's chest and winked, "At least invite me next time."
"Dani!" Ethan's eyes widened.
"What? A girl can dream," Daniela turned up the puppy dog eyes, "I'll only watch, I promise…" Her eyes darted to the side, and she added, "Well… mostly."
Ethan raised a hand to shoot the idea down and swiftly clarified, "We aren't sleeping together like that. We've only been bunking together every couple of nights recently. Nothing happens, okay – we just share a bed sometimes."
Daniela crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, pouting. "Well, that's no fun."
Ethan released an exasperated scoff and got them back on track, "Anyway, as I was saying – everything was normal up until then. When I woke up this morning, I heard glass breaking in the bathroom. Apparently, Bela slipped, and she busted her mirror by accident. And I mean, like," Ethan gestured a punch, "She totaled it. No glass left on that thing, and she put a hole right through the door of the medicine cabinet. So, unless Bela destroys furniture by accident on the regular, I kinda doubt that's what actually happened."
The more Ethan spoke, the less excitement persisted on Daniela's face. It gave way to concern and worry – validation for Ethan's intuition that something was very, very wrong.
"The whole day, she's been distant. I dunno what happened, but… she's not acting like herself." Ethan's eyes were downcast, looking at his shoes as he added, "She's avoiding me like the plague."
After everything they had been through, and after how intimately close they had gotten, it was jarring to suddenly lose that with Bela. It was like a rug had been ripped out from underneath him – or if he wanted to be sappy about it, it was like his other half in this castle disappeared.
Daniela's eyes were downcast, and she slowly extracted herself from Ethan's lap. She smoothed out her dress, taking a step back. She gave a thoughtful hum while fiddling with Maria's necklace around her wrist. The smile she wore was a sad one as she asked, "Is she avoiding conversation? Can't look you in the eye? Pretends everything is fine?"
Ethan frowned, looking up at his companion. "Yeah. Spot on."
Daniela's eyes remained fixed on a nondescript point on the floor. Her shoulders sagged down, and for a long moment, all she did was play with her makeshift bracelet. It lasted long enough for Ethan to worry the clasp and the knot may come undone with how much Daniela fidgeted with the necklace.
"Please don't be upset with Bela," Daniela began.
"I'm not," Ethan assured her, "Just worried and confused." Daniela's earlier reaction had been telling, and led Ethan to make another deduction, which he then voiced, "I'm guessing this isn't the first time she's acted like this."
Daniela ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She bent down, knees pressed together, so she was at Ethan's eye level. Daniela reached for Ethan's hand, squeezing it with both of her own as she looked him in the eyes. "That's how Bela behaved a decade ago." A beat passed, and Daniela winced. "It lasted quite some time."
Ethan needed no reminder of what happened a decade ago – when Bela's memories came back to her.
Daniela ran her hand over Ethan's in a soothing manner, and she kept her voice soft, "Bela was reclusive. She rarely spoke to any of us, and Cassie got the worst of it. Suddenly, her partner in crime no longer wanted to play with her." Daniela's throat bobbed with a gulp, and she glanced up at Ethan once, before her gaze returned to their hands.
"Something may have resurfaced for Bela. I'm sure it is nothing personal, and nothing to do with you." She paused to chew on her bottom lip, in a way that reminded Ethan of Bela, and made his heart ache. "If anything, Bela may be as worried as you are. Afraid, even."
"Why would she be afraid?" Ethan asked.
Daniela offered a sympathetic smile, and she reached up to ruffle Ethan's hair. "As smart as you are, you aren't very observant, are you?" She didn't give Ethan the chance to reply anything other than a quick glare. "She might think you are too good to be true. Be patient with her and reassure her when you can. That is all you can do."
When the silence drew on, and Ethan couldn't help but stew in his head, Daniela added, "You and Bela will be fine. I know it." She squeezed his hand once more. "Okay?"
Ethan smiled back. The gratitude he felt for Daniela's friendship was warm in his chest. Even if for only a moment, it banished the mounting dread in his heart. "Okay." Ethan squeezed her hand back. "Thank you, Dani."
Ethan and Bela stopped for only a moment at the base of the stairs leading to the armory. The arm Bela looped around Ethan's was loose, and she took the time to look up the steps. In Bela's other hand, she adjusted her hold on the black notebook, and the pen clipped to the side.
When Bela didn't voice what was on her mind, Ethan broke the silence first. "Hey," He squeezed her hand, "What's up?"
Bela craned her head away from the stairs and towards Ethan – but as she had all day, she avoided eye contact. Her amber eyes were fixed to his cheeks, or his chin as she spoke. "Go easy on Cassandra, please. Last night was unpleasant."
That was one word for it.
"Well," Ethan muttered. "I'll go as easy on her as she goes on me."
Bela sighed, but cracked the smallest of smiles. "Please be careful."
Taking that ghost of a smile as a good sign, Ethan quipped, "I'll think about it."
It got Bela to gently nudge him in the ribs, the small uptick at her lip persisting. "Behave, little one."
Ethan chuckled softly; the mild teasing was enough to make him melt – to make him crave more of Bela's attention. He couldn't quite help himself when he turned to face Bela fully, his hands finding their place on her waist. Ethan tried his luck, flashing a lopsided smile, "What if I don't wanna behave?"
Bela's eyes trailed up to meet Ethan's. She looked at him for a long moment, honey golden eyes piercing right through him and pinning him in place. Her teeth pressed down on her bottom lip, and not for the first time, Ethan was tempted to bite them on her behalf.
"Ethan, if you continue to behave like a bad boy," Bela whispered, "I will have to punish you."
Ethan's heart leapt within his ribcage, sending heat rippling out through his chest. It tickled his nerves, and left him a little too excited. "Why do I like the sound of that?"
Bela tapped Ethan on the head with her notebook, "Because you are a masochist." She gently pulled herself from Ethan's grasp, and began approaching the stairs. Ethan had an inkling it was because she didn't want him to see her grinning.
"I'm not a masochist," Ethan protested, falling in step behind Bela.
Bela ignored his reply in favor of taking the first steps up to the armory. "Come. Let us see how many concussions Cassandra plans to give you."
Ethan blew out a breath and muttered, "Yeah, let's."
They ascended to the armory without further delay. When they arrived at the landing, they found Cassandra in the middle of her warmup. She had her legs crossed over a pullup bar by the door on their right, and she was suspended from it, upside down; her hands were clasped behind her head, a fair indicator they'd walked in on her doing inverted sit ups. Her ponytail dangled loosely towards the ground as she turned her head to face her two visitors.
Cassandra wore a similar attire as the previous night, sporty leggings, rash guard, and all. Her sweaty face was flushed pink from the exertion, and she noted, "Ah. Right on time."
She performed two final reps of her sit ups before grabbing the bar with one hand. In a display of impressive agility and strength, Cassandra deftly dismounted the pullup bar and landed on her feet. Ethan nodded to himself at the sight of her. Not that he would ever admit it to Cassandra, but the athleticism was admirable. Ethan was strong, but it took a certain specificity of training (and dedication) to be able to move oneself as effortlessly as Cassandra was.
Picking up a small towel from the closest table, Cassandra dabbed at the sweat on her face. "Hey, punching bag," she nodded at Ethan in greeting. "How's the nose? All better?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Yeah."
"Good," Cassandra tilted her head, smiling wide, "I can break it all over again."
"Try me," Ethan grunted in warning, "I might just break your nose."
Cassandra's smile vanished in lieu of her jaw dropping, and a hand raising to her lips – appearing aghast. "You wouldn't hurt a lady like that, would you?"
"You're not a lady," Ethan scoffed.
It got a soft laugh out of Cassandra. It was less wicked today, in a way Ethan couldn't quite place. There was an absence of malice in her eyes and her lingering smile as she stared him down. She eventually shook her head and retrieved their gloves and wraps, tucking her pair in the crook of her elbow. She approached Ethan with even steps, nodding once at Bela in the process. "Sister."
"Good evening, Cassandra," Bela replied, all too stiffly. The little warmth she had shown Ethan at the base of the stairs was gone, and it appeared her distant demeanor was back. Ethan didn't miss the way Cassandra quirked a brow at the formality of Bela's greeting. Cassandra watched the blonde make her way towards the bench to the side, reclaiming her spot from last night. When Bela crossed her legs, opened her notebook, and clicked her pen, she appeared to enter a world of her own. Cassandra regarded her with a halfhearted shrug before turning her attention back to Ethan.
It was then that Ethan looked past Cassandra's shoulder, towards the damaged wall. The same shelf was propped up against it, broken and abused as it was. Several tiers were destroyed and hanging haphazardly by one or two nails. But regardless of the shelf's condition, it somehow prevented most of the evening chill from seeping in. Whatever draft that wafted in was summarily banished by the roaring fireplace. As long as they didn't crash into the shelf again, the armory was safe for the bug women in the room.
Sharp as ever, Cassandra glanced back to follow Ethan's gaze. When her head swiveled to meet him, any semblance of a smile had vanished. Her face was set back into that emotionless mask. In his peripheral vision, Ethan clocked the anxious tap of Cassandra's pointer finger against her midsection as she still held her own gloves. Wordlessly, Cassandra extended Ethan's set of gloves and wraps forward.
Ethan just as silently accepted the gloves and watched Cassandra step back to put hers on. Ethan removed his shoes and socks, then doffed his sweater, placing it on Bela's bench. He started wrapping the supportive fabric around his hands, and stretching and oiling his joints. He glanced at the brunette when the quiet drew on. The silence seemed almost uncharacteristic from Cassandra, so he asked, "What's it gonna be tonight?"
"We fight," Cassandra shrugged and tugged her first glove on. "Same rules."
It was simple enough. Ethan could do that. He'd already learned much from their last spar, and he could put all of that to use tonight. Close the distance as soon as possible and take Cassandra to the ground, where she was most ineffective.
"Same rules – so if you win, you take a sip again. Is that right?" Ethan asked.
Cassandra focused on tugging her second glove on as she responded, "We'll see where it goes."
There was a noticeable absence of haughtiness and taunting this time around. Less self-assuredness, and less anger – and that was considering the pain Ethan had inflicted in the full mount yesterday. It emboldened Ethan to test the waters by stating his observation, "That's surprisingly civilized."
A small tug on the corner of Cassandra's face, and she retorted, "I can be civilized."
Once their wraps and gloves were secure, Ethan followed Cassandra into the center of the armory. He kept his distance, lest Cassandra open with a sucker punch like last time. Instead, she raised her glove forward at shoulder level, arm extended.
It took Ethan a moment to realize what was happening – and then another moment to make sure she wasn't baiting him into a trap. When a look of exasperation crossed Cassandra's face, Ethan, to his utter surprise, realized she was genuine, and so he complied. He reached out to bump his glove against Cassandra's, and they both stepped back to assume proper fighting stances.
The fight started slowly, with neither party as thirsty for blood as the previous night. The opening jabs and kicks allowed them to measure range and get familiar with the space (and each other). It wasn't long until Ethan noted the lack of fervor behind Cassandra's strikes. Speed and power were present in her blows, yes – but she wasn't looking to knock his head off his shoulders this time. The level of intensity she brought to the spar was reminiscent of Ethan's training sessions with Hound Wolf Squad. They fought hard, but never to incapacitate each other. They fought to learn, and be better.
It appeared Daniela's insight had been correct (so far, anyway). Cassandra had brought him back to use as an outlet. Energy that could be spent mutilating him or some maid was instead spent in their newly established fight club. Ethan couldn't complain if this were truly the case. He needed the exercise, and Cassandra needed the outlet. As long as she wasn't out to murder him, then he could make this work.
Ethan's foot sailed in an arc, the roundhouse kick aiming for Cassandra's ribs. She raised her knee up and dropped her elbow, blocking the strike. Once she was back on her feet, she sent a jab forward, which Ethan narrowly avoided. When her right hand shot forward in a punch, Ethan twisted his head and body to avoid it. His left palm tapped her at the wrist to displace the attack, while his right sprung up to hook her arm.
In line with his earlier battle plan, Ethan secured Cassandra's arm, and his leg swung – aiming to sweep her off her feet. Instead of letting him, Cassandra spread her feet apart, rather than stumbling to catch herself. Ethan had not tugged at the arm viciously enough to destabilize her balance; he had no need to do so before, since Cassandra usually did enough thrashing, making Ethan's job easier in the process. Cassandra now found a stable base to regain her footing, and faltered Ethan's attempt at a throw. Before Ethan could react, Cassandra shoved him back, ripping her arm free from his hold.
To his surprise, Cassandra was grinning. "I know what you're trying to do, man-thing. You won't trip me so easily."
Ethan gave an amused huff. "We'll see about that."
Cassandra kept herself in striking distance, keenly aware that the worst place for her to be was in Ethan's arms. Ethan moved swiftly, light on his feet; he kept just out of her range, only to lunge in and attempt to grapple her when she was least prepared. Their legs would tangle together, but Cassandra had apparently been sufficiently traumatized by last night's ground and pound. The few times Ethan got a hold on her, Cassandra fought like a rabid animal to escape his grip – she was doing everything in her power to avoid being grabbed.
But sooner rather than later, fatigue got the best of Cassandra. Ethan did not doubt the woman's fighting prowess, but he had Chris' training up his sleeve. In a contest of endurance, Ethan would emerge the victor every time, especially if Cassandra was hamstringing herself by limiting the swarm's effect on her body.
In time, Cassandra's efforts to stay out of Ethan's grip was for naught. They tangled together in a clinch as Ethan's patience paid off. He clamped a hand over Cassandra's nape, while the other locked by her shoulder. The knees Cassandra knocked into his side had him wincing – but they still lacked last night's fire and brimstone; the power was measured and restrained. If anything, it allowed their strikes and grappling to proceed with more technical proficiency, rather than brute strength.
Ethan pulled back, keeping Cassandra off balance, and baiting her to pull in the opposite direction. When Cassandra jerked backward, Ethan pushed forward. He yanked on her arm to force her weight onto one foot, and swung his own foot back, reaping her leg. He heard Cassandra's sharp intake of breath, close to his ear – a panicked sound if he'd ever heard one. It was just enough for Ethan to not put all his force and bodyweight into the throw. He supported Cassandra's weight, muscles straining for a beat before she found her footing. They stumbled and staggered around the armory together, rather than crashing into the ground completely.
"Won't do you any good if you keep doin' that," Ethan grunted in between pants.
Cassandra ignored his warning. Ethan remained light on his feet, while Cassandra continued trying to brute force her way out of the clinch. Each time Cassandra attempted to free herself, Ethan reacted fluidly – using her momentum against her and setting up a throw, but stopping just as Cassandra stumbled.
Her tattooed forehead was creased into a frown – a combination of frustration and concentration alike. Cassandra wasn't looking directly at Ethan, either; her eyes were fixed to their legs, which Ethan deftly used to his advantage.
Ethan could practically hear the gears crunching in Cassandra's head as she dissected their movements and tried to get a hold of the situation. It was clear as day that Ethan had the initiative by this point, and Cassandra surely knew it – she knew the only reason she wasn't on the ground was because Ethan was holding back on her.
What Ethan didn't know was which Cassandra hated more: the fact she was once more a misstep away from being hurled into the ground, or the knowledge she was losing control over the fight with each second that passed.
At the risk of incurring Cassandra's wrath, Ethan spoke up, "If you keep pushing against me," He pushed in the clinch for emphasis, and Cassandra pushed back. He stepped in the reverse, following Cassandra's momentum. He left one foot in place, and Cassandra nearly tripped over it as a result of her forward movement. He caught his breath for a beat before concluding, "I'm just gonna throw you down each time."
Ethan tensed as the silence ticked by for several long seconds, save for their collective heavy breathing. It felt likely that he would get an earful any moment now for having the audacity to try and lecture her over anything combat-related.
Cassandra panted and gasped for air, eyes finally leaving their legs to instead fix on him. When Cassandra found whatever it was she was looking for, she swallowed and nodded, "Okay."
It gave Ethan pause.
Okay?
That was it? No taunt, no insult spat through gritted teeth? No threatening and belittling?
Was Cassandra actually listening to him?
Ethan pushed back to test this. Cassandra kept her footing even and square as she stopped resisting Ethan's momentum. She simply adjusted her stance accordingly to stay stable, even as Ethan pushed her this way and that.
No way that Cassandra of all people was seriously taking his advice.
Abruptly, Ethan changed directions, and Cassandra followed along. Ethan got his leg into position and setup for the sweep, but Cassandra – on stable legs – was able to catch herself. Ethan raised his brows to himself, just a tad impressed that she was catching on quickly.
"Huh… not bad," Ethan noted.
"I'll have you know I'm much better than just 'not bad,'" Cassandra retorted, and Ethan kneed her in the ribs in reply.
It got a soft grunt from Cassandra, and she pushed back, sending her own knee up to strike him. They remained in the clinch for a while longer, knees coming up to batter one another, and legs entangling in Ethan's half-hearted attempts at throwing her – for the moment, he was just interested in observing how she avoided his trip attempts. If anything, it was educational to be learning how an inexperienced grappler avoided the sweeps and throws.
Then, Cassandra's leg caught Ethan's, and she tried to take him down. Except it was a sloppy, messy attempt, and Ethan was far too used to expert grapplers trying to take him down. He shifted away as needed, keeping a solid base and his weight centered. Cassandra stumbled and regained her footing, knocking a fist into his ribs as if in petty protest.
Ethan flinched and remarked, "You really trying to use my own tricks against me?"
"You do not have a monopoly on tripping people, man-thing," Cassandra huffed back, then struck. Her knee came up to dig into Ethan's ribs – enough to make him fold and protect his flanks. Cassandra used all her weight and strength to wrench herself free from Ethan's grip on her neck and shoulder. She shot low, head to Ethan's side, and her shoulder knocking into his stomach. Her hands found the backs of his knees, and she went for the takedown.
But Ethan had seen it a mile away, and kicked his legs back and out of reach. He sprawled, hands on Cassandra's back and neck, fully neutralizing her attempt at a takedown. Cassandra fell onto her hands and knees to catch herself, grunting from the rough landing.
If this were yesterday, Ethan would have taken that time to drive his elbow into the back of Cassandra's head. But Cassandra had been a surprisingly civilized, good sport tonight, so Ethan had little reason to inflict any more pain than strictly necessary. Instead, Ethan marked his hit with a light slap to the back of her head – just so it was clear she was an open target – and then pushed off her, and back to his feet.
Cassandra scrambled back upright, and for a beat, her eyes looked as wild and frenzied as last night – as if she'd expected him to capitalize on her mistake, and make her pay dearly for it. When Ethan did no such thing, Cassandra adopted her fighting stance, and the calmness returned to her.
"Not bad," Ethan repeated.
"If you showed me how any of this works," Cassandra rolled her eyes, the frustration leaking into her voice, "maybe it would be better than 'not bad.'"
At first, Ethan was silent. Grapples, throws, and takedowns were his bread-and-butter defense against hand-to-hand strikers like Cassandra. The last thing he wanted was the ace up his sleeve exposed, debunked, and turned useless.
But on the other hand, this was the least hostile he had ever seen Cassandra. She was snarky and cocky, but was not actively harassing him or hurting him that much. If Ethan didn't know any better, he would say this was what Cassandra was like on a normal day. If he wanted his remaining days, weeks, or even months in the castle to pass by peacefully, it meant forming a connection with all the daughters.
That included Cassandra.
Ethan let out a sigh, and put faith into Daniela's judgment of Cassandra's character. He muttered more to himself than to anyone else, "Fine." If this blew up in his face, at least he, very pettily, knew who to blame.
"C'mere," Ethan grunted, beckoning Cassandra to come closer. Cassandra watched Ethan with wary, narrowed eyes. When he made no sudden movements and gave no signs of duplicity, Cassandra approached. "Don't do anything stupid. Just trust me."
"This is Osotogari – the large outer reap. You can use the principles in most grapples. We'll have to do a bit of improvisation since we aren't wearing gis." Ethan paused when Cassandra narrowed her eyes in a look of confusion, so he clarified, "Y'know, those martial arts robe things. Since we don't have those, I'll hold you here, and here," Ethan kept his instructions as simple as possible. He held Cassandra's right arm at the wrist, and clamped his right hand over the nape of her neck. "In a fight, we're gonna be moving around the whole time, right?"
"Right."
Ethan mimicked the struggle of a fight in full swing, pushing and pulling Cassandra around the open space of the armory. "You wanna time it just right when you get an opening – the moment you feel your opponent's weight is shifting back – you add to it," Ethan knocked his shoulder against Cassandra's, forcing her off balance with his hand at her nape. He stepped to her side simultaneously, his hand sliding down her arm and to her elbow – which he also tugged to destabilize her stance. Ensuring he had Cassandra's attention, he asked, "You feel that – your weight's all on one leg, yeah?"
Cassandra grunted out, "Mhm."
"From here, I just finish it with my leg," Ethan said, swinging his leg forward and reaping it back, catching Cassandra's leg. He swung just enough to knock her off her feet and earn a surprised, very un-Cassandra yelp. Ethan prevented her fall, supporting her weight with his arms, and Cassandra clung onto him to avoid being thrown completely.
Ethan stepped back and out of the hold, giving Cassandra some breathing room. "It just boils down to that. Find your opening, break their stance, and attack the leg where all the weight is."
"You make it sound so simple," Cassandra noted as she tugged on her rash guard – straightening out her clothes.
"Lots of practice." Ethan shrugged before motioning, "Come on. Try it on me."
Ethan raised his arms to allow Cassandra to take position. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers before initiating the clinch. Ethan gave his pointers as needed, adjusting Cassandra's hold on his nape and arm. "And bump," He told her.
Cassandra knocked her shoulder into Ethan's, and tugged on his nape. Ethan stumbled a step and regained his footing. When Cassandra realized her error, she reset, assuming the previous position, as Ethan reminded her, "Don't forget the arm."
"I got it," was Cassandra's calm response.
"We'll see." Ethan gently tugged on Cassandra's hand, ensuring it was properly secured to his nape. "Okay, try it aga –"
Cassandra rammed into Ethan, pulling on his arm and nape to force his weight onto one leg. Her leg shot forth then swung back, crashing into Ethan's.
Ethan blinked, and found himself looking up at the armory's stone ceiling. His arm had instinctively splayed out to slam onto the floor and help disperse the impact of the fall. Still, he found himself wincing from the jarring connection with the ground. His view of the ceiling was soon interrupted by Cassandra. Loose strings of hair from her ponytail clung to her flushed face, and she was giving him a cheeky smile.
"Like that?"
"Yeah," Ethan smirked back. "Like that."
Ethan sat up enough to grab Cassandra by the wrist, and loop his other hand around her nape – easy, given that she was bent over to grin at him.
"Hey, wait!" Cassandra protested.
Ethan tucked his legs in and extended one foot to press against her hip as he rolled back, easily lifting Cassandra into the air as she produced another yelp of surprise. Ethan knocked his other foot against her thigh – ensuring her legs would allow a safe roll as she fell back. Ethan pushed her over his head, keeping a firm hold of her arm and nape as he rolled backwards all the way.
Cassandra hit the ground back-first with a thump, and Ethan allowed their momentum to carry him all the way into a full mount, sitting atop her – ready to strike, if he wished to. Ethan meant to take the time to gloat – something along the lines of "Didn't expect that, did ya?" But then the panicked expression on Cassandra's face kept Ethan's mouth shut.
Her eyes were wide with fear, and her lips were split open. She took in breaths quickly and let them out just as sharply – on the verge of hyperventilation. Her hands shot up to protect her face, as if expecting Ethan to begin the vicious ground and pound any moment now.
It sunk in then just how truly badly Cassandra had taken yesterday's beating on the ground. It wasn't just an unpleasant experience for her. She looked to be on the cusp of a panic attack just to be in the same position as yesterday. Not that Ethan could blame her, given the unfamiliar rage and bloodlust that had overcome him in those moments.
Yet at the same time, there was an itch in Ethan's brain that he couldn't scratch just yet – a lone synapse twitching and firing off, sending signals to its compatriots, only to be unanswered.
From everything Ethan had seen and heard, he knew Cassandra was tough. She was tough as nails, and somebody with a body count as extensive as Cassandra couldn't possibly be afraid of a man-thing like Ethan, even after just one bad ground and pound session. There was more to the violent reaction Cassandra had to being on her back, in this compromising position.
No epiphany struck Ethan in that moment – not when he was still looking down at Cassandra as she was on the precipice of hyperventilating.
There was no more joy Ethan could derive from being in a superior position to Cassandra. There was no high to ride from defeating her in a fight – from thoroughly crushing her body and her spirit. It sent an uneasy ripple through his stomach just to see Cassandra's raw fear resurfacing – especially at the thought that he was causing it.
It didn't sit right with him. Not anymore.
Ethan licked his lips and called to her softly, "Hey."
When Cassandra's flighty eyes met his, Ethan prompted her, "You're on your back – what do you do now?"
Cassandra swallowed hard and steadied her breathing. "What?"
"How do you get out?" Ethan asked again.
In between breathless gasps of air, Cassandra shut her eyes. "I'll figure something out."
"That's not good enough. In the time it takes you to figure something out, I could knock you out," Ethan reminded her, moving his fists and hands forward in the slow motions of all the attacks he could launch from this position. "Or even choke you out," Ethan added, but did not demonstrate, lest Cassandra's life-or-death instincts kick in. Accidentally or not, Ethan didn't want to find out if the castle had a fourth floor via Cassandra kicking him through the ceiling.
"Okay then, you damn eel," Cassandra hissed, nodding her head towards him, "how do I wriggle out of this?"
"Less wriggling, more bridging," Ethan answered. "Lots of ways to get out, but this is one of the simpler ones. First step is to move this foot here."
Ethan patted Cassandra's left foot, guiding it to tuck against his right foot. "Next, you do a bridge, aimed to your left."
When no clarity washed over Cassandra's face, and all she did was raise an eyebrow, Ethan elaborated, "Y'know, get your hips up, but angle them a little to the left."
Cassandra grunted in the effort, and her already pink face flushed further from the exertion. Ethan tilted his head to the side and chimed, "C'mon, don't tell me all that working out is just for show. Put your ass into it. Glutes will give you a lot of extra power."
Cassandra ceased her struggling and caught her breath for a moment, eyes locked onto Ethan's. After swallowing down enough oxygen, she tried again, this time successfully pushing Ethan up and to the side. Ethan caught himself with his right hand on the stone floor.
He grinned at his unlikely pupil's quick pace. "See that? First reaction is for me to put my hand here to keep balance. Use that to your advantage. Try it again, but this time, lock my arm at the joint."
Cassandra nodded, allowing Ethan to reset in the full mount. Taking the time to breathe as well, Ethan explained, "It's the same logic with the leg," he tapped Cassandra's foot, which pinned his own in place, "If you don't lock that down, I'll just stick it to the side to catch my balance. Without either arm or foot, you can roll over me."
Cassandra licked her lips and blew a stray hair out of her face. She was audibly dubious when she asked, "I simply roll over you from there? Just like that?"
Ethan nodded. "Just like that. Come on, give it a shot."
With a final nod, Cassandra wasted no more time. She locked Ethan's leg in, then secured his arm at the elbow. Her hips thrust up and to the side, and Ethan lacked the means to catch himself before Cassandra rolled them over. Ethan wound up flat on his back with Cassandra between his legs in his full guard.
Cassandra let out a breathless laugh – surprised at the simplicity of the maneuver.
"Good," Ethan remarked, "Better than not bad."
Cassandra rolled her eyes and asked, "What next, smartass?"
"Ideally, you get out. Because now, you're in my full guard. The longer you stay there, the more time I have to do something else." To emphasize, Ethan crossed his legs over Cassandra's back, and locked his feet, ensuring she had no escape.
Cassandra blinked. She raised her eyebrows in a look of disbelief, "What could you possibly do from a compromising position like this?"
Ethan shrugged. "This."
He grabbed Cassandra's right arm, yanking it close. Ethan wriggled to his right, pulling his left leg up and crossing it over the other side of Cassandra's head to set up an arm bar.
There was another protest of, "Hey, don't – stop!" from Cassandra as she yanked her arm back before Ethan could begin the joint lock in earnest.
But to prove his point, Ethan pushed his hips up, grabbing Cassandra's left arm this time. He crossed it over his hips and adjusted, legs folding this way and that to lock in a triangle choke instead. An audible gurgle sounded from Cassandra's throat, and in lieu of tapping out, she punched Ethan in the ribs.
Not one to release a choke so easily, Ethan remained there, only putting gradual pressure to slowly cut off Cassandra's oxygen. With little other recourse, Cassandra settled on striking Ethan in the side. Her punches produced dull thumps against Ethan's ribs, and each strike was less powerful than the last.
Cassandra reminded Ethan of himself whenever Tundra would put him in a chokehold. He was more likely to pass out than tap out, and Tundra always said he had too much spirit and not enough brains. No amount of holds and maneuvers could choke that habit out of Ethan – he fought to the bitter end, and it appeared Cassandra was similar in that regard.
Seeing his victim's red face, Ethan didn't want to bother drawing it out any longer than necessary; he unfolded his legs and released Cassandra from the choke. She drew in a big breath, coughing once or twice as she stumbled back onto her rear. Ethan kept his legs clear, fully freeing her from his guard.
Cassandra massaged a hand to her throat, flexing her neck around while she sat on the floor. Ethan remained where he was, lying down on the floor and propped up on his elbows – winded from teaching and fighting simultaneously.
When their eyes met, Ethan nodded his head in question, "You okay?" He had been careful to lock in the choke as safely as possible, but it was common courtesy to check on your sparring partner.
Cassandra watched him for a long moment; her seemingly blank gaze was just a tad unnerving, but after all the unnerving things Ethan had witnessed in the past three years, Cassandra's piercing stare was just another Wednesday for him.
Finally, Cassandra nodded back, her eyes seeming to focus on him properly, rather than seeing straight through him. Her throat bobbed with a gulp, then her eyes bounced around their surroundings – as if taking inventory of where they were in that moment. She spoke up before Ethan could ponder the odd mannerism.
"I think that's enough for tonight," Cassandra cleared her throat, hand dropping from her neck as she slowly got to her feet. She approached Ethan, hand extended. "Not bad, man-thing."
Ethan released a breath of air as an amused huff, shaking his head. He looked up at Cassandra, who wore a small, genuine smile on her face. He took the offered hand, and Cassandra effortlessly pulled him to his feet. Ethan clapped her on the arm and echoed, "Not bad, Cassandra."
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! If you liked this chapter, and the story thus far, do be sure to drop some faves and follows on your way out, and let me know how you're liking my writing!
Okay, so before you bring out the pitchforks and torches over Bela's start to this chapter - I'd like to share the quote that inspired and shaped my planning of Bela's behavior and thoughts.
"In a perfect world, I would have been happy with my relationship with Jen [author's wife]. But PTSD is a thief. In addition to the depression and anger, it robs you of your sense of security and self-worth. It even steals your ability to feel like you deserve good things to happen in your life."
The man behind this quote is a former special forces operator, with probably a few hundred combat missions under his belt. He has killed, and nearly been killed many, many times over his career, and experiences post traumatic stress. On the wedding night (with his fourth wife), he had a complete alcoholic breakdown that nearly ended his marriage on the same night it began. All because he was so wrapped up in the trauma, and was so certain he did not deserve a shred of good in his life.
I felt this was worth sharing, in case it wasn't clear enough why Bela... begins to self-sabotage herself, in a way. It's one of those commonly reported symptoms of those suffering from post traumatic stress, especially if they served in combat operations. They tend to veer towards self destructive behavior, with one of the main reasons being the lack of self-worth and the belief they don't deserve happiness. So, just a little bit of extra insight there. Quote is from Tom Satterly, former Delta Force/The Unit Operator, co-founder of the All Secure Foundation. His book is of the same title - All Secure. It gives a big peek into the life of a spec ops guy, and the toll it takes on his mental health, family, and relationships.
Okay, with that out of the way - onto Cassandra, who can be civilized when she wants to. It is a very deliberate move on her part that she's not taunting Ethan every chance she gets, and I'm sure y'all can figure out why by now. I'm sure there's a lot - a *lot* - that you guys can start deducing, inferring, and speculating based on her interactions with Ethan here; so I won't go into it too much. I'd rather let y'all put the pieces together and toy with you in the review replies, haha! But I do like how the chapter turned out overall. We see the makings of a respectful relationship forming between Ethan and Cass. It only gets more interesting as we move along, and Cass learns that the man-thing isn't so bad after all.
And as usual, feel free to check out the socials over at linktr . ee / sylvesterm. Got some sneak peeks and behind the scenes content there that y'all might be interested in checking out.
Lastly, just wanna tell you fellas to expect the next chapter on perhaps the weekend of the 26th, if not, I'll see everyone again in July. But, cross your fingers, because the outlines for the next few chapters are quite crisp, and I'm feeling optimistic about the writing I can get in.
Until then, hope you all stay safe out there, and thank you once again for all the overwhelming support. See you around.
