Ethan took his time sorting out the additions to his wardrobe in between sips of his second beer of the night – the Duke's generously donated parting gift. Out of all the purchases he had made, the one he had forgotten was a simple drawer. Bela had gotten him a bedframe, a desk, and chairs – but simple storage had slipped her mind as well. It was understandable, of course, as Bela probably had not expected Ethan to amass a collection of clothing when she first placed the order for the furniture. It wasn't something either of them could have predicted, as prisoners didn't typically need to look fashionable, or have a large rotation of clothes.

So, Ethan made do by keeping the clothes in neat stacks at the foot of his bed, and on his desk, along with the signed album. He'd already changed into his workout clothes ahead of time, so that he was prepared for tonight's sparring session with Cassandra. The simple black jogging pants, and quick-drying grey shirt would offer him far more mobility than his damn jeans. How it was the Duke stocked everything in Ethan's size was a mystery – but after their talk of constants and variables and infinite possibilities, Ethan was beyond asking stupid questions.

With time to kill, Ethan did his stretches and a light warm up. The slight pinching sensation from his shoulder was in no way debilitating, but it was still annoying. By tending to it now, he would only need to quickly oil his joints before starting with Cassandra later – and he would be less likely to give himself a minor injury along the way.

Time ticked by as Ethan kept himself preoccupied. A glance at his clock indicated that dinner time was just around the corner. Days ago, this realization had a nearly Pavlovian response in Ethan. A smile would tug at his lips. His heartrate would pick up in pace. His hands would grow just a tad clammy. All because it meant that his sweet, blonde angel of mercy in this castle would make her appearance any moment now.

Ethan had learned to temper his expectations by now. Bela was withdrawing into herself more and more, and this now extended to her delegating meal deliveries to the maids. It seemed that Bela felt the less she saw Ethan, the less chances he would get to pester her as to what was on her mind. It was a knife to the heart, and Ethan still didn't know how to dull that pain.

It was little surprise then, when soft footfalls began to echo down the dungeon corridors, and they lacked the sharp click of Bela's heels. The even beat of flats on the stone floor grew louder and closer, until a figure stopped by the cell door. Illuminated by the lamp on Ethan's table, he noted the woman's tall frame, and her matronly posture. Despite the veil obscuring her features, it was undoubtedly Tatyana.

"Good evening, Mr. Winters," came the grand chambermaid's composed and measured greeting.

Ethan gave a casual, "Hey, evening," in response.

Tatyana carried the usual silver meal tray in her hands. A crystalline carafe of water was joined by a bowl of meaty stew, and a side of bread. She crouched down to slide the tray through the slot in the door. As she straightened up, Ethan moved from his desk to retrieve the tray.

"Enjoy the food." Curt and brief as ever, Tatyana began to turn. She prepared to take her leave without giving him so much as a second look.

And just because Ethan was starting to miss having human contact over meals, he laid what he thought may be the right bait for Tatyana.

"Thanks, Tanya."

Like clockwork, Tatyana stopped in her tracks. The veil shifted – a fair indicator that she was craning her head to look him squarely in the face.

"That's what Cassandra calls you, right?" Ethan spoke nonchalantly and flashed Tatyana a casual smile. The more informal he sounded, the less likely it would come off that he was simply doing information-gathering about his hosts. Which – well – wasn't entirely untrue. Ethan was making it a point to be gathering information constantly, to use it to his advantage.

Any opportunity to learn more about the sisters should be rightfully seized, as it would only help improve his relations with them. The more he learned, the more he could understand them better. The more he could help them in a way that mattered. The more he could bring out and grow the humanity in them, while steering them away from the monstrous lives they'd led for so long.

That, and Ethan really was just seeking to make conversation with Tatyana. It got more than a little boring being alone in this cell without Bela.

Tatyana regarded Ethan through her veil for a pregnant pause. She shifted where she stood to face Ethan better, and then crossed her arms. "It is."

Ethan set his meal tray down on his desk before taking a seat. "You know, I always found that interesting. Daniela and Bela, they always called you by your full name." Ethan pursed his lips and shrugged. "But not Cassandra. Out of all the people here, she's the one that calls you by a nickname. What's the story there?"

Tatyana's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh – a nonverbal 'I don't have time for this shit,' if Ethan had ever seen one.

"Come on, humor me." Ethan flashed a smile, which he hoped was at least a bit charming. "Gimme like five minutes of your time. I'm goin' crazy down here by myself." He took it as a good sign that Tatyana was still standing in place, and had not up and left. "I'm sure the kitchens won't catch fire just because you stayed behind to chat a little."

Another pause, longer and heavier than the last, then Tatyana approached the cell door, stopping just in front of it. She placed one hand on the sturdy bars of the door, which shifted once pressure was applied.

Tatyana's frame tensed, and even with the veil in the way, Ethan could practically see the woman's eyes widen. Ethan's door being unlocked was, if he had to guess, not exactly common knowledge.

Tatyana tugged on the door, moving it back and forth, clear from the doorframe. Once Tatyana appeared to have confirmed that she wasn't seeing things – and that Ethan's door was really left unlocked, she released it. The door was left aligned with the frame of the cell, as if that would do any good to ensure Ethan was safely imprisoned.

With little other recourse, Tatyana shifted to the side, placing her hand instead on a different bar. With her other hand, she tugged her veil down, revealing her pale features. Her burgundy hair was done up in a neat bun, with only a few loose hairs coming free by the side of her face. Her stern features were locked into a slight frown as she looked at Ethan. Even with the one blind, milky white eye, Tatyana had the uncanny ability to make Ethan feel like she was staring right through him. He could practically see the gears in her head turning, trying to decipher the puzzle before her.

"You are an interesting guest in this castle, Mr. Winters." Tatyana quirked a brow, shifting the jagged scar running across her eye. She looked at the now empty bottle of beer on his desk. "Three weeks in, and you have not one, not two, but three of the Ladies wrapped around your finger."

Ethan's face crinkled with a soft wince. "I wouldn't put it that way. When you say it like that, you make me sound like a harem protagonist."

Tatyana squinted. "What?"

Ethan shook his head, waving a hand to dismiss the thought. "Never mind."

The scrutinous glare that Tatyana shot Ethan was a little too reminiscent of Cassandra's own basilisk stares. One had to wonder who picked the habit up from whom.

"How have you lasted this long, Mr. Winters? Truly, it baffles me." Tatyana shrugged, adding, "And do not tell me it is because Mother Miranda needs you alive. We both know it is more than that."

"If I remember right from our last chat, then I think I've been doin' it the same way you have." Ethan cracked a half-smile. "I made my small mistakes here and there, learned from them, and now I make it a point to only stay on their good sides."

That was, of course, excluding the current frigid treatment from Bela. While she had said it wasn't Ethan's fault, he still felt somehow responsible for the growing schism between them.

Ethan concluded with a not-too-subtle jab, gesturing to Tatyana, "It helps when I look at them like people and not creatures, don't you think?"

Tatyana crossed her arms tightly over her chest, eyes dipping down to the floor for a beat. Her tense jaw had to unclench before she responded, "Anybody that needlessly slaughters people are creatures to me, Mr. Winters. It surprises me that you refuse to see it the same way." Tatyana's frown tightened, and her voice picked up in volume. "Especially after what you did in the cellar."

Ethan gulped as Tatyana's words hit their mark. To buy himself a second or two to compose himself, he poured a glass of water from the crystalline carafe. His rampage in the cellar had indeed been brought about by his frustration and outrage at it all – at the sheer depravity and monstrosity that could lead to the thousands of neatly bottled human lives in the cellar. Words like 'creature' and 'monster' only scratched the surface of how he'd looked at the Dimitrescu Family in those moments. Tatyana was right.

The guilt rumbled in Ethan's gut at the poor taste in his jab at Tatyana. The woman had undoubtedly seen so many of her fellow servants and friends butchered on the job. Ten years was a long, long time, and Ethan could only speculate as to the body count Tatyana had witnessed in those years. He was far out of line taking that tone against Tatyana. In Tatyana's shoes, anybody would be as jaded and bitter as she was.

But even so. As he'd learned with Bela, Daniela, and even Cassandra, there was always more to every story. The actions of a person, no matter how terrible, did not always define them. Behind the monstrous facades of the sisters were scarred, traumatized women who were more than their actions.

After taking a big sip, Ethan set his glass down, shifting in his chair to face Tatyana better. He purposely ignored her mentioning of the cellar; Ethan had no idea how privy Tatyana was to the strings Cassandra and Bela pulled to get him out of hot water. There was no need to accidentally re-incriminate himself and get a belated punishment from the castle matriarch. Ethan instead steered their conversation back to the original point he tried to raise.

"You know, not long ago, I probably would've agreed with you. Maybe not about Bela or Daniela…" Ethan looked Tatyana in the eye as he spoke. Her frown looked all the harsher thanks to the swaying lamplight on Ethan's table. "Bela was pretty nice to me really early on; she never gave me much of a reason to doubt her. Dani's got her issues – that's putting it lightly, I know. But she's a sweet girl at the end of the day. Cassandra, though," Ethan blew out a huff, shaking his head. "Yeah, a week ago, I would've agreed with you completely – that's a creature if I'd ever seen one. If I had to call any of the sisters a monster, it would've been her." A pause, and Ethan's eyes avoided Tatyana for just a moment. "But now… there's more to Cassandra too, and I should've seen that coming."

By the slightest bit, Tatyana's frown softened. Ethan took that chance to ask, "How well do you know Cassandra?"

Tatyana gave a sigh, her shoulders sagging low. She uncrossed her arms to clasp her hands in front of her, wringing them together. "Lady Cassandra saved my life."

Ethan's brows shot up high. He shifted in his seat, eyes fixed to Tatyana – waiting for her to say she was bullshitting him. Yet no such follow up came, and Ethan had to prompt her, "Seriously? How'd that happen?"

Tatyana's clasped hands tightened, and her deep frown returned. "I was being beaten to death by someone who…" Her throat bobbed with a gulp. "Someone who was very close to me. Someone I trusted." Tatyana took in a big breath – steeling her nerves. "We were in the outskirts of the village, where nobody could hear me scream."

Ethan found himself mirroring Tatyana's frown as he listened. The last time they had spoken, Tatyana had mentioned an abusive partner when she cautioned Ethan of the risk that he was being manipulated – that he was in an emotionally abusive relationship without him realizing it. While such warnings were ultimately unfounded, Ethan did understand where she was coming from. Now more than ever, Ethan could see the point Tatyana had been trying to make. It was no wonder she had been bitter, and nearly outright angry at his stubbornness.

A dry, humorless laugh from Tatyana as she continued, "I had nearly made my peace with death, then…" She unclasped her hands so she could continue gripping one of the cell bars. With her other hand, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Then it was over. There was a dark blur, and then his head fell from his shoulders. And then… nothing."

The faraway look in Tatyana's eye was one Ethan had seen many times over – and sometimes from himself. Tatyana muttered, "It was over. No more fist in my face. No more kick in the head. Nothing."

When the silence lingered, Ethan took it upon himself to break it before Tatyana got lost in the memories. "What happened then? Cassandra took you in?"

Tatyana blinked away the fog of her memories, then nodded. "Yes."

"Did you know what you were walking into?" Ethan asked. He couldn't help but feel that most maids probably didn't. There was no way the castle got many willing applicants if they knew what went on within the castle walls – the wine, the giant noblewoman, the bug-daughters, the blood, the slaughter. If they were told upfront that a misplaced book got them a death sentence, they would surely run away as fast as their legs could carry them. Even with a hefty paycheck, there was no way the castle would be as well-staffed as it was, if everyone knew what they were signing up for.

"I did." Tatyana answered, and once more surprised Ethan. "Lady Cassandra did not mince words with me. She told me what would be required of me, and gave me the choice to leave, or to follow her to this castle, where Lady Bela could look after my wounds."

The downcast look on Tatyana's face told Ethan there was more than a little regret to her decision. He swallowed down the disbelief so as to keep a neutral tone when he asked, "Why'd you say yes?"

"I had nowhere else to go. I was young and stupid, scared, and did not think things through." Tatyana shook her head, giving a quiet, bitter laugh. "I did not even consider it an option to seek refuge with a neighbor, rather than," She gestured around them, "this castle."

Tatyana placed her other hand on the cell bars, fingers drumming along the rough metal. "There is no changing the past, and so here I am now… trying to keep my girls alive." Her eyes dipped down, the sorrow lingering with the frustration. "Even though some days it is futile."

"I'm sure you've got some pull with Cassandra. That probably helps keep people alive."

"Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters are the law in this castle, Mr. Winters." Tatyana shook her head. "If they mark one of my girls for death, there is nothing I can do." Her grip on the cell bars tightened, her knuckles turning white. "Believe me." Her eyes narrowed, and Ethan glimpsed the grand chambermaid's blind eye. "I have tried."

The closer Ethan got to the three sisters, the easier it was getting to forget about their sordid pasts. That was something Ethan had made it a point to remind himself of ad infinitum, in the earlier days of his imprisonment. It was important to remember that they weren't just three pretty, charming, misunderstood women.

They were killers.

The amount of death wrought by the Dimitrescu sisters was unfathomable. The Bakers could have only dreamed of being such prolific killers in comparison.

Reconciling their body counts was always difficult, and said difficulty varied vastly from daughter to daughter. It was something that lingered on his conscience, deep in the back of Ethan's mind. Reality checks like this were tough, especially when he had grown so close to the sisters, and seen their true character – the humanity that shone brighter and brighter each day.

But these reality checks were also highly appreciated, and necessary. It would in no way change the trajectory of Ethan's relationship with the daughters – especially now that he was as in deep as he was – but it was something to keep in mind, whenever he began to forget their bloody pasts.

Chris certainly wasn't going to forget, when he finally came crashing through the castle doors. How he was going to get Chris to stay his hand from the sisters, Ethan did not yet know, and he wasn't looking forward to the confrontation.

Though a simple bullet to the head may suffice, once Ethan had the answers to the mystery surrounding Mia's murder.

If for no other reason than to break the tension, Ethan chimed, "Here I was thinking you and Cassie were best friends, or something."

Tatyana laughed, sounding less dry and bitter than the last. "Not quite. Lady Cassandra is a very private woman, but…"

Ethan leaned in a fraction, his interest plain to see on his face.

"But we do speak from time to time. It is… interesting to see her in better spirits as of late, especially during this time of year. Winter is always a difficult season for her, as she cannot leave the castle." Tatyana's expression carried just a hint of suspicion as she eyed Ethan. "It appears you have something to do with that."

"Cassandra just likes smacking me around a little too much." Ethan shrugged it off, a small grin sticking to his face.

Tatyana released an amused huff, shaking her head. "A very interesting guest you are indeed." She slowly pushed off the cell bars, stepping back. "In any case, you best keep doing whatever you are doing." Tatyana lowered her veil, obscuring her features. "My girls are more likely to stay alive when the Ladies are happy."

Just what Ethan needed. More weight and responsibility for his actions.

"I'll do my best," Ethan muttered.

Tatyana hummed, and replied, "Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Winters."

Ethan made no attempt to keep Tatyana around for any longer. He'd heard all he needed to hear tonight, and he didn't want to land the head maid in any hot water for taking long returning to her post.

He was left alone with his thoughts and the steady tick of the clock on his desk as he ate dinner. The stew was thick and hearty, with the meat well-seasoned, and the vegetables cooked to perfection. Even the bread tasted freshly baked, having just the right amount of crunch in the crust, and being delightfully fluffy on the inside.

It was Bela's cooking. Of that, there was little doubt. She had once said that cooking helped clear her mind, and allowed her to unwind. Ethan found some relief in that – in knowing Bela still had the small comforts she could rely on, even if she no longer let him in. As much as the isolation hurt, he was glad nonetheless.

And once Ethan got thinking about Bela, he couldn't stop.

He could picture her so clearly, sitting next to him at the desk, with her own meal tray. He could see that sheepish smile whenever she asked to borrow his blanket to wrap herself in – as the dungeons were always a little too chilly for her. Ethan could see her wavy blonde hair cast over one shoulder – keeping it clear, so it wouldn't get in the way while she ate. He could see the twinkle in her eye, and hear her laughter – and fuck, did he love her laugh – whenever he made a dumb joke.

When he closed his eyes, he could almost taste Bela's lips. The soft feel of her lips against his was a sensation that lived rent-free in his head, all hours of the day. What he wouldn't give to ease away the worry entangling Bela, and return things back to how they once were.

At night, his bed felt exceedingly cold without Bela. Sleeping alone had been a torturous experience after Mia's murder. The absence of the woman he loved in bed – the lack of the mattress' sink under her weight next to him – it was maddening. When Bela filled that hole, cuddling up to him at night, it was such a breath of fresh air. It made the drift into sleep infinitely easier. Her presence was a balm to Ethan's tormented soul, and he longed to hold Bela in his arms again. Being alone at night was a nightmare all over again now that Bela was making herself scarce.

Ethan would talk to her when she arrived to pick him up for the nightly drop-off at the armory. He made that small promise to himself – because each day without restoring proper communication with Bela was killing him more and more. He refused to leave Bela to fight her demons alone without at least trying to get through to her. Cassandra would understand if he would be running a little late. His plan to fix up the armory wall, and Rammstein's signed album should be enough of an apology. If they were insufficient, then he would make it up to Cassandra some other way. Getting through to Bela was important, and he would be damned if he didn't at least try to connect with her.

The only problem was that the hours then ticked by, and there was no sign of Bela. She had a reputation of being punctual and on-the-dot, so her absence was, at the very least, concerning. Even with the frigid cold shoulder, Bela had never been late to a pick-up before. She could avoid saying anything more than two words to Ethan, but she would still arrive on time to escort him to the armory.

Was this the next step to her detachment? Was this her way of creating even more space between them? Did Bela expect Ethan to just report to the armory himself, without her nudging?

Ethan had no answers, and only more, more, and more questions.

The doubt and unease flooded Ethan's mind until he was ready to drown in it all. He was fucked. Bela couldn't even be bothered to accompany him to the armory anymore, and their relationship was gone and fucked before it even really began.

When the clock told Ethan that Bela was now ten minutes late, he decided it was time to haul ass.

Cassandra was waiting, and the last thing Ethan needed was to piss her off. He could go find Bela after their sparring session and speak to her then. He was entitled to at least an explanation as to why she just up and ditched him. A little forewarning that she would not escort him to the armory tonight would have been appreciated.

Ethan shook his head in slight disbelief as he lifted himself up from his bed, preparing to get a move on. He placed a hand on his lantern, meaning to dim the light and save oil while he was out.

Then he heard it.

A light clicking echoed off the dungeon walls.

Ethan frowned, straining to tune in to the sound.

The clicks were sharp – indicative of heels on the rough stone. Yet the gait was different, lacking Bela's measured, even steps.

The clarity washed over Ethan as he recognized the methodically silent heeled footfalls. Ethan turned towards the cell door, leaning his hip on his desk. As the muted steps grew closer, a silhouette rounded the corner, coming to a stop just by the door.

In the dim lamplight, Cassandra's dark hair looked warmer than usual. It was similar to her eyes, which lacked all the venom and hostility they once had; in their place was nothing but friendliness. Almost fondness.

Cassandra wore her dark dress – a look Ethan had not seen in quite some time now. The only difference Ethan noticed was that her hood was lowered, she wore no gloves, and the necklace with the yellow pendant was absent. Cassandra looked Ethan up and down, eyes scanning his appearance – his new workout clothes, he realized.

Placing a hand on her hip, Cassandra smiled. "Hello, Ethan. How about a game?"

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As usual, hit those fave and follow buttons on your way out so you don't miss out on updates!

Another side character chapter this time around, focusing on dear Tanya. I was a little surprised by the backlash she got when she was first introduced. It felt like she got way too much flak all for Ethan's spiral and subsequent argument with Bela. So I thought it would be good to give her the spotlight again, even if for only a little bit, so we can get to know her character some more. In the process, a little more light gets shed on Cassandra.

And speak of the devil - there she is! What game does she have in store this time? Mahjong? Dungeons & Dragons? Strip Poker? Y'all will find out soon enough.

Shorter chapter today, partly to ensure it goes up on time. Next update should be a beefier one. Expect it to go live on the weekend of the 21st or the 28th, depending on how hectic life gets.

Before you dip out, be sure to give the socials a peek if you want other ways to support this little story: linktr . ee / sylvesterm . I'm accepting questions for the month of August now, which I'll answer in the podcast. I also recently uploaded some behind the scenes insight into how I arrived at the sisters' folkloric Romanian names, if you're curious about how that came about.

That's it from me for now. Thanks again for all the support, and I'll see you legends in a week or two!