The library restroom didn't have a shower; Ethan had been in the room enough times to confirm that. He had to assume that Daniela's bedroom was somewhere near the library, and that's where she had her personal bathroom.
But if Ethan had to weigh it, the odds of Daniela harassing him in the bath were high. Too high for his liking. Knowing her, there was already a hidden camera in there waiting for him – or worse, she'd already practiced the movements of busting down the bathroom door and jumping into the shower with him, as naked as the day she was born. She'd be offering to wash every nook and cranny of his body before Ethan could even try to get a word in edgewise.
So, it ruled Daniela out. Ethan preferred his body as it was – ungroped by the Dimitrescu family's youngest.
The maids probably had some sort of bathroom, but Ethan had not the faintest clue where that was. In all the walks around the castle with Bela, they had never passed anything remotely resembling a servants' quarters. A quick look at the maps in his journal revealed nothing of note either – there were no quick and dirty deductions to be made as to where the maids could be bunking.
That might have been odd, if Ethan had to think about it – but it could be chalked up to Bela simply having no need to tour him in the direction of the servants' quarters.
And even if he did find wherever it was the maids laid their veiled heads to rest at night, Ethan didn't know how to broach the subject with them and borrow their bathroom. They graciously avoided reporting his free movements to Lady Dimitrescu as it was. He didn't want to barge into their personal space and very quickly change their currently neutral opinion of him.
After all, it was one thing to meander his way to the library or the armory on his own. It was another thing entirely to show up to Tatyana's door at night, towel and toothbrush in hand, seeking refuge. Fortune may favor the bold, but not the stupid – and Ethan knew such decisions bordered on idiocy.
The bucket in his cell was an option. He only needed to refill it with the sink in the kitchen, and then he would be ready to give himself hypothermia again. Except this time, Bela wasn't going to miraculously come to his rescue. She wouldn't be here to use the guise of sharing body heat as her bad excuse to cuddle with him and make him the little spoon.
If Ethan was feeling really ballsy, he could always waltz right up to Lady Dimitrescu's bedroom and politely knock on her door. A big woman like that probably had an equally big bathroom to get cleaned up in. Though if she didn't murder him on the spot, he might be liable to drown in her bathtub, from how deep it surely was. You probably needed a lifeguard and pool floaties just to climb into the castle matriarch's bathtub.
Ultimately, that left only one other candidate, and Ethan felt sheepish to be considering it. After how they left things barely half an hour ago, it was clear Cassandra wanted to be alone for the rest of the evening.
But what other choice did Ethan have? His bed would be smelling like a mixture of sweat and cement if he didn't get cleaned up. Though to be fair, that may be an upgrade from the cell's smell of blood and vomit during his first days of imprisonment.
Still, Ethan often reminded himself that prisoners couldn't be choosers, but –
Ethan stared up at the stairs leading to the kitchens. He lowered his gaze to the bunny slippers on his feet, and the towel, toiletries, and change of clothes in his hands.
He was hardly a fucking prisoner in the conventional sense anymore. He was more like a guest who'd been snowed in for the winter and was unable to depart.
Accommodations were great, food was sublime, and the entertainment wasn't shit anymore. Who was he to complain, for the most part?
Ethan sighed, shaking his head to himself. He gave Bela's locked door one last lingering look before departing.
Cassandra was a reasonable woman.
Ethan paused at the top of the steps, frowning at his own line of thinking.
Well, she was as reasonable as someone like her could be – and that would have to do.
Cassandra wouldn't mind if he borrowed her bathroom for a couple of minutes and then dipped out. That surely wouldn't put a dampener on her evening. It certainly couldn't be any worse than their earlier scuffle.
If Cassandra turned him away then, well – he could hit up Dani. Ethan would just make it a point to barricade himself in the bathroom, for what little it would do to keep Daniela's prying eyes away from him.
Or prying hands, rather. He ought to arm himself with a flyswatter to keep the redhead away.
The walk to the armory was a quiet one. Out of habit, Ethan peeked his corners and exercised all the due caution to make sure he didn't bump face-first into Lady Dimitrescu's hips. But such precautions were ultimately unnecessary, since the castle was silent as the grave at this hour. Nothing but his muted footfalls and the crack of burning logs in the fireplaces broke the stillness of the halls. The maids had long since finished cleaning up the kitchens, and were winding down for the evening. The sisters were in their respective rooms, as was their mother.
The thought did give Ethan a moment's pause by the time he began ascending the second-floor's grand staircase.
At this moment, Lady Dimitrescu was probably in her bedroom, reading Rose a bedtime story, or playing with her before tucking her into her crib. It had Ethan scratching an uncomfortable hand to the back of his head as he walked.
He still didn't quite know how to feel about a woman he didn't know – a woman with wolverine-like claws who held his daughter captive on the orders of Miranda – babying Rose. It was bittersweet, if nothing else. Ethan could appreciate the simple sentiment of knowing his flesh and blood was being cared for – downright pampered, even.
But still. Ethan longed to pamper his own daughter and give her anything and everything she could need. It wasn't in the castle matriarch's place to be Rose's surrogate mother. She wasn't supposed to be substituting for Mia.
It was a blow to his pride to see just how much Lady Dimitrescu was providing for Rose, when he was being prevented from doing so himself. That childproof bunker was the safest place Rose could be, where everything she needed was within arm's reach. At least for now, he was forced to accept that the castle matriarch's bedroom was the best place for Rose to be.
Ethan came to a stop at the base of the armory stairs. He looked up at the stone steps, and was met with silence. No Rammstein reverberating off the walls, or soft grunts as Cassandra warmed up in preparation for sparring. Not even the ambient glow of the various candelabras from the armory reached the stairwell.
Hopefully it wasn't too late to peep his head in and ask to borrow Cassandra's shower.
Carefully, Ethan took the steps up one at time. The sporadic snap and crack of the fireplace grew audible as Ethan ascended – but even from here, he could tell the flames were burning low. It was bound to be due for a new log or two, and a good amount of stoking.
Just as Ethan arrived at the armory proper, dimly lit as it was, the bathroom door swung open. Cassandra walked into the open and froze mid-step, head craned in Ethan's direction. She wore a thick, plain white bathrobe, and her hair was wrapped up securely in a towel. Two bunny slippers clung to her feet, matching her mother's slippers (and Ethan's, but he tried not to acknowledge that). Her usually pallid skin was flushed a warm pink.
Hands securing the towel around her hair, Cassandra blinked. Once, twice, and then she finally spoke, "…Hello there."
"General Kenobi," the words left Ethan's mouth before he could really think twice.
A bemused expression clouded Cassandra's features. "What?"
Ethan shook his head sharply, "Never mind that, sorry – I, uh…" He trailed off, and only then realized he hadn't rehearsed his speech to Cassandra. His reason for being here was a somewhat odd one, and he should have gone over this in his head at least once.
But alas, Ethan had apparently defaulted to the other half of him that preferred winging it. As the skewed logic went, he winged his entire night of survival in the Baker House. He could easily wing anything that came. Because obviously winging the Baker House had gone so well. Getting his hand chainsawed off, and his leg snapped in two by a shovel were only minor inconveniences, right?
Clearing his throat, Ethan looked up at Cassandra, who continued to watch him expectantly.
"Bela kinda locked me out," Ethan gave a nervous, humorless laugh. "I don't, uh – I kinda need a shower. Didn't know where else to go." His eyes avoided Cassandra's for a moment. "I could try Dani, but the last time I took my shirt off around her, she nearly creamed herself, so…" He ended with a helpless shrug.
The confusion on Cassandra's face quickly turned to one of disgust, and she produced a displeased, "eugh." She shuddered and shook head to clear the images Ethan created; still wincing, she asked, "You need to borrow the shower?"
Ethan tried to remain nonchalant about it. He popped out the p as he responded, "Yup."
In an all too familiar manner, Cassandra narrowed her eyes at Ethan. Though it ended quicker than usual, and she shrugged back at him. "Fine, be my guest." She raised a finger, pointing it at Ethan in clear warning. "Do not make a mess." Cassandra stood to the side, holding the door open to her still steamy bathroom. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need me." She jerked her thumb back – motioning to the banded wooden door to the side of the fireplace. "Try not to need me."
"Thanks, Cass." Ethan flashed a smile as he neared the woman in question. He was happy to see her return the smile, if only faintly. He placed his hand on the door, giving Cassandra the clearance to withdraw her own hand and step back. "I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it." Cassandra gave a quick roll of her eyes.
With little other show or ceremony, Cassandra turned on her heel and made for her bedroom. "Try not to drown in there, man-thing," She called over her shoulder.
"I'll do my best," Ethan replied and closed the bathroom door behind him, locking it for good measure.
In the dim candlelight, Ethan avoided infringing on Cassandra's space any more than was strictly necessary. He folded and hung his towel, then left his fresh clothes in a neat pile on the toilet lid. The clothes he wore hit the floor, and he tucked them into a corner for later collection. The bandage around his right hand was shed next, and he promptly crumpled it and threw it in the trash; a little air and water would do it some good, especially now that it had scabbed over. Within moments, he stood on the anti-slip mat in Cassandra's tub, and turned the handle.
The hot spray of water splashed into Ethan's face, trailing to his chest and down his body. He let out a low, satisfied grunt, and began to scrub away the day's grime.
It was out of habit that he swiped his toes over the drain – to clear excess hair from clogging it up. He then found the bottom of the tub to be spick and span, as if Cassandra had not just used the same shower. No long strands of dark brown hair clumped up at the bottom.
Bela was a generally very neat person, but even she left the odd hairball here and there. Mia was the same; there was no shortage of hair everywhere, especially in the bathroom. It drew a quiet chuckle from Ethan – to know that it was Cassandra of all people who kept the tidiest bathroom. It made enough sense, considering how neat and squared away the room was when Ethan first stepped into it.
He tried not to let the comparisons tug up the emotions he'd been repressing. Bela's new distance, and essentially breaking up with him (as if they were together-together to begin with) were bad enough. Last thing he needed was to fixate on it now.
He'd have plenty of time to do that later, in the quiet isolation of his cold, lonely cell.
Ethan focused on the hot water running down his body, for what little it could do to banish the intrusive, depressive thoughts. For good measure, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking in long, deep breaths. At least for the moment, he could let the cleansing water wash away the bleak reality of his relationship with Bela, and distance from Rose.
Ethan took the liberty of borrowing Cassandra's soap and shampoo – once more, taking the bare minimum, to avoid imposing on her hospitality. A little smile split his face once the smell hit his nose – the near candy-like sweetness of shea butter and vanilla; it wasn't too dissimilar from what Mia used. Here he was thinking Cassandra was all ruthless efficiency and no-nonsense, even with her toiletries; he thought she perhaps preferred using laundry detergent to rub the grime away, rather than the stereotypically feminine set of toiletries available. Good to know even someone like her enjoyed smelling good.
Ethan chuckled to himself, muttering under his breath, "Course she does. She's a normal person too, even under all… that."
An abused, and quite literally tortured person, who Bela somehow turned into a killing machine when they became bug-women. Ethan's head was ready to begin pounding all over again. As soon as he managed to make up with Bela (whenever that would be), he needed to get her in the same room as Cassandra. It sounded like the Dimitrescu's eldest had some explaining and apologizing to do, to say the least.
The conflict between Bela and Cassandra clearly wasn't simple, and Ethan doubted the bridge between them would be rebuilt overnight. Despite that, Ethan could only hope things weren't too far gone for them both.
A sigh, and Ethan fiddled with the wedding ring on the chain around his neck.
He'd get more of the full story soon enough. It was inevitable now, and Ethan knew it. Even though more and more questions were cropping up by the day, so was more and more information. For every new question that came, a blank would be filled up. Sooner or later, Ethan would hold all the pieces of the puzzle that was the Dimitrescu sisters' pasts, and how they'd all grown so distant from one another.
If his luck would hold up for once, he'd obtain the knowledge without suffering any more grievous bodily harm. But given the raw angst in both Cassandra's and Bela's eyes, Ethan felt chances for this were slim.
However that may play out, Ethan was committed to helping them both. And once he could play mediator and get everyone to make up – it would open a clear path to Rose, with all the sisters in support. Visiting her regularly could finally be more than just a pipe dream, and more importantly – his eventual escape from the castle with Rose would be child's play when they all stood behind him.
Bela's nearly fatalistic view of herself, and the unnecessary self-sacrifice was a bump in the road, but that's all it would be for now, as much as it did cut Ethan to his core. It was a setback that could be overcome in time. He could patch things up with her. He just needed the right approach – one that hopefully Cassandra and Daniela could help him with. It would work out.
Ethan gulped, drawing in a shuddering breath.
He really, really hoped it would work out.
Ethan killed the shower before he could ruminate for any longer. Best not overstay his welcome, or risk Lady Dimitrescu questioning their excessive water bill, or something.
He settled his wet feet on the mat, allowing the water to drip down as he retrieved his towel. Ethan dried himself off quickly, his wedding ring producing a faint jingling sound as he moved. Before long, he was dry – save for his hair, which remained just a tad damp, thanks to how long it was getting. A glance at the foggy mirror allowed him to sweep it back until it was neat enough. His hand lingered over his stubble-turned-beard – probably the only thing that made him look remotely like the prisoner he was supposed to be.
Ethan tugged his clothes on – a loose, soft white shirt, and a pair of grey joggers. His used clothes were summarily wrapped in his towel, for lack of a laundry bag to carry them in. He gave the bathroom a final check, and made sure it was as neat and squared away as when he first entered. Once he was satisfied, he stepped into his slippers, and turned the doorknob. Ethan filed out of the bathroom, ready to return to his cell.
Cassandra stood a step away from the door, eyes a tad wider than usual in slight surprise, and her hand raised in the air – as if about to knock on the door. She wore the same white bathrobe from earlier, but now her damp but drying hair was free from the towel, and draped over one shoulder. She closed her parted lips – resetting the surprise on her features.
Ultimately, Cassandra greeted him with a simple, "Hey."
Ethan nodded at her. "Hey. Thanks again for lending me the shower. I made sure not to leave any hairballs in there. I didn't drown myself, too – just like you asked." It earned a soft chuckle from Cassandra, and a roll of her eyes. Ethan went on when the brunette didn't speak up, "I'll get out of your way now. Good night, Cass."
"Ethan, wait." Cassandra reached out to place a hand on his arm, just as he turned to face the exit.
As requested, Ethan paused. He glanced down before he could help himself – glimpsing the scars along Cassandra's exposed arm when her robe shifted. He fixed his gaze back to her face before she could notice. "Yeah?"
Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "Would you care to join me for some tea?" Warm eyes flicked away – avoiding his for a beat. "The pot I prepared is too big, and I simply can't finish it all by myself."
Ethan's lips parted slightly in momentary surprise. Any initial witty retort he had then stalled in his throat.
Teatime with Cassandra? Ethan was certain she had derided the possibility of this exact scenario during one of their spars before.
"I," Cassandra cleared her throat, putting on her infamously neutral expression. "I know from Bela that you are more of a coffee person, but…" She shrugged, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "I thought you may want to share." Another pause, and she withdrew her hand from Ethan's arm. "If that's okay with you, of course."
Teatime with Cassandra being a reality wasn't an idea he could have ever conjured by himself. But it still beat moping and overthinking in his lonely cell. It wouldn't hurt to kill some time with Cassandra.
The invitation was also a good sign she wasn't too upset after how things had gone earlier in the evening.
"Yeah," Ethan flashed a smile. "Tea doesn't sound bad."
The relief crossed Cassandra's face, and her even, apathetic expression just as quickly wiped it away. "Come," came her usual command, and the tilt of her head towards her door.
Ethan fell in step behind Cassandra as they crossed the armory. To the right side of the fireplace was the simple banded wooden door which Ethan paid little mind to since their nightly spars began. In the back of his head, he'd assumed it was a storeroom of sorts – a space to put even more medieval weapons and suits of armor; maybe even a humble supply closet, given how simple the door looked. It never really occurred to him that this was the door to Cassandra's bedroom. It was far more unassuming than Bela's door with its brass doorknocker carved in the shape of the Dimitrescu crest.
Cassandra opened the door, holding it for Ethan as she stepped inside.
The modestly sized bedroom opened up to the left and right, rectangular in shape. The crackling fireplace to the left, and the numerous candelabras in stone alcoves cast a warm glow on the room; the light was further supplemented by several oil lanterns. Directly in front of Ethan was a multi-tier study table, with a few books on the upper level. On the larger, lower surface was a silver tray, containing an ornate teapot, and two porcelain cups with matching saucers. Small jars of glass and gold housed honey and sugar, ready to sweeten the tea. A lantern joined the tea set, lighting up the table.
A tall wardrobe stood at the foot of Cassandra's bed, right by the fireplace; the bed took up the left side of the room. The small, single-sized bed would be dwarfed by Bela's if they were compared side-by-side. If Ethan had to guess, the bed size was Cassandra's own choice, considering her generally minimalistic preferences. She only stocked the essentials, even when it came to furniture, it seemed.
By the bed's side was a small wooden end table, with a square mirror hanging above it. To the mirror's side, displayed above Cassandra's bed, hung a shield, painted with the Dimitrescu family crest, joined by a pair of glinting swords.
To the immediate right of the door was a bookshelf, but at first glance alone, it was far less stocked than either Daniela's library (obviously), and Bela's own shelves. A cursory inspection revealed historical books – largely focused on warfare through the ancient and medieval ages.
Over to the far right side of the room was another two-tiered desk, flanked by tall sconces, which lit up the surface of the table. Numerous swords, daggers, and axes reflected the flickering firelight. A whetstone, a rag, and a leather-wrapped pack of tools joined the assortment of weaponry. Ethan could just make out what looked like a field stripped pistol tucked underneath the upper tier of shelving.
Brushing past Ethan, Cassandra pulled the padded chair by the desk on the right. She brought it over to the central desk, where the tea awaited them. A little awkwardly, Cassandra's hands fidgeted at her sides before she patted the chair. "Please – sit."
Ethan gently shut the door behind him as he approached the chair as instructed. "Nice place," He offered with a smile.
Cassandra shook her head, but responded in kind with a quick, "thanks." Once Ethan eased himself down onto the chair, Cassandra circled him and made for the tea set. She poured them each a cup before setting the pot back down onto the tray. The floral scent of tea filled the air as steam rose from the cups.
Satisfied, Cassandra nabbed the jar of honey and took the seat on Ethan's left. She reclined, tucking one pale leg underneath the other. She cradled her cup in one hand as she began spooning honey into her tea.
Ethan mimicked her, leaning back into his chair with the cup of tea in hand. He blew at the tea to cool it, sending small ripples across the surface. Taking a sniff or two didn't tell Ethan anything definitive, other than that it was definitely tea, and it smelled flowery and possibly sweet. He'd never been a tea guy, and Mia was as much of a coffee addict as he was.
As if sensing his question, Cassandra broke the brief silence. "It's chamomile." She took a small sip from her cup, and told him, "It helps you sleep."
If Cassandra was any bit as haunted as she made Ethan believe, then she could probably use all the sleeping aids she could get.
Ethan hummed, chiming, "If it's effective, I should get this stuff in an IV drip."
Cassandra huffed a laugh, giving him a debatably fond shake of her head. When she closed her eyes and lapsed into silence, Ethan was left to take his own first sip of tea.
Just as it smelled, the hot tea tasted flowery in a way he couldn't quite place, and carried a vague flavor of sweetness to it. Maybe a hint of fruitiness, but Ethan wasn't sure. All he knew was that it wasn't bad at all, and he was taking his next sip in moments.
The quiet in the air, only broken by the snap of wood in the fireplace, evoked a sense of serenity in Ethan. The odd coalescence of burning wood, vanilla, and metal polish permeating the room, similarly, was oddly disarming – comforting, even. Across from Ethan and a short distance away, Cassandra looked equally at peace – a far cry from her usually aggressive or pointedly neutral demeanor. Her pale face wasn't twisted into a scowl, ready to spit venom at him for his latest attempt at prying. It wasn't set into her apathetic poker face either, trying her damnedest to hide any and all emotion.
Cassandra simply breathed slowly and evenly, eyes closed as her face was void of any tension. With her white bathrobe and her damp hair over one shoulder, she looked like the epitome of calmness – something he never quite thought he would see from Cassandra.
If it weren't for the whole bloody past between them, Ethan could almost pretend this was a perfectly normal evening, in a perfectly normal room, not in a Romanian castle that housed thousands of bottles of blood in its cellars.
He could almost close his eyes and pretend the brunette across from him was Mia, and they were basking in the serenity of one another's presence after a long, long day. The familiar scents and the utter calmness of his surroundings certainly set that mood.
But Ethan just as quickly opened his eyes and shook those thoughts away. He refused to allow himself such daydreams now of all times.
When his gaze fell back onto Cassandra, Ethan had to wonder if this was a nightly routine of hers. Tea before bedtime sounded like a good way to unwind after an evening of physical activity. It was such a normal thing that Ethan was forced to once more remind himself that it shouldn't be surprising from Cassandra. She could be normal – was supposed to be normal. The violence and the brutality was supposed to be the exception. Never the rule.
So wrapped up in his thoughts, Ethan was surprised when Cassandra spoke up. "I'm guessing that wasn't actually from you being clumsy." She pointed a finger at Ethan's bruised and split knuckles. "Your hand, I mean."
Ethan quirked the corner of his lips up in a small smile. "Yeah." His eyes bore into the scabbing wound for a moment longer before he turned to Cassandra. "You got me." When Cassandra's stare lingered, and her silent question grew apparent, Ethan deflected, "If you think my hand looks rough, you should see the wall. I really messed it up. Even that wall's mother wouldn't recognize it now."
The unamused look on Cassandra's face would have been funny, if not for the seriousness with which she stared at him. "Does that have anything to do with," One hand released her teacup to form air quotes, "Bela locking you out."
"I didn't hit your sister, if that's what you're thinking." It was prudent to preempt any such misconceptions. The last thing Ethan needed was scalding hot tea splashed into his face in retaliation for domestic abuse he didn't commit.
Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't. If you did, we would be having an entirely different conversation right now. You know that's not what I meant."
Ethan's relief came out in a subtle sigh. "Things got kinda out of hand last night," He admitted. "Really out of hand. Smacked a wall as soon as I was alone and paid the price." He flexed his fingers, and his knuckles stung back in complaint.
The answer settled between them as Cassandra regarded Ethan. She tilted her head a degree to the side, eyes going between his bruised hand and his face.
"The other day, you mentioned Bela was avoiding you," Cassandra recalled. "I take it that last night… she put a harder stop to," a pause, and she made a vague gesture towards Ethan, "whatever it is going on between you two."
Ethan sighed deeply and took a long sip of his tea. He set the cup down on the saucer. He clicked his tongue. "Yep." A nod – coming out as a sad, dejected sort of movement of his head. "That sums it up, yeah."
To Ethan's surprise, Cassandra sighed just as deeply as he had. She combed a hand through her dark, damp hair. "While I'm sure you connected to Bela differently from how I did," Cassandra frowned, "I know it stings to be shut out like that. To be left not knowing what just happened, and…" A shrug, and Cassandra shook her head, "Not knowing if it was your fault you were left in the dirt." Her already soft voice grew even quieter. "Not knowing why."
Cassandra fidgeted with her teacup, fingers running over the fine porcelain, and over the rim. "All those years ago, when Bela remembered, everything changed." Her eyes fixed to her tea for a long moment before she took a deep sip. She smacked her lips, continuing, "She wanted nothing to do with the hunt, or our training." Cassandra only paused then to release a dry, humorless chuckle. "Or me. You would think I was a leper with how little she wanted to do with me." Cassandra glared at her now empty cup, and promptly reached across the table to secure the pot. As fresh, hot tea trickled into her cup, she continued, "I know she reconnected with Dani, but that did not last for too long."
A thoughtful pause, and Cassandra continued to frown at her cup. Without looking up, she said, "I'm sorry."
Ethan's heart skipped a beat in his chest. "For what?"
"For not having anything of help to say." Cassandra took a breath, bobbing her shoulders up to shrug. "Bela is an enigma, and as you can see, she still shuts me out." Her fingers flexed over the teacup – like Cassandra was avoiding gripping it too hard. "If there was a way to return to her good graces, I have not figured it out, even after all these years – so I can't really help you reconnect with her either."
"It's okay, Cass." Ethan offered an earnest but sad smile. It was touching to think Cassandra even remotely cared enough to want to help. "I appreciate the thought."
"Thought doesn't solve problems," Cassandra grumbled around the rim of her cup. Ironically, in that moment, Ethan could see a bit of himself in Cassandra. Always a man of action – always ready to spring face-first into an issue to resolve it. It didn't matter if doing so would smash him face-first into danger and the harsh reality around him – he always wanted to act decisively.
It was his stay in Castle Dimitrescu that was teaching him to temper that burning need to act, and focus on the long game as needed – which necessitated a lot of thought and planning.
"It can solve problems," Ethan countered. "Keeping it slow and thinking things through is how I've lasted this long." He flashed a toothy grin, adding, "It's how I've avoided getting killed by your mom, Bela, Dani, and you, Cass. If I acted first and thought later…"
Well… he would be either dead, dying, or (Ethan felt more likely) the castle would be reduced to rubble, and Ethan would have a lot of blood on his hands by the time it was over. He dreaded to think of the maids who may be caught in the crossfire, and there was no telling how to keep Rose safe during the entire violent ordeal.
"Let's just say 'shoot first, ask questions later' never ends well." Ethan took a leaf from Chris' book when he added, "Thought may be slow, but slow is smooth, and smooth is fast."
Cassandra gave a long hum, idly swirling her cup of tea around. "You have a point." She stilled, and there was a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke softly, "Around here, a thoughtless hunter is called prey, not a hunter at all." Then she blinked once, twice, and again before gulping hard. Cassandra was still frowning when she raised her tea to her lips.
Ethan retrieved his own cup to take a sip before he probed, "Did someone pass that saying onto you?"
"I…" Cassandra's voice was a tad muffled by the teacup. "No." She shook her head, then added, "I don't think so." She repeated, as if to cement it as fact, "No."
It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Ethan. But he then had to ask himself – why?
Could that be a loose memory? One that wasn't all pain and torture? Maybe a saying passed on from the same person who taught her to fight and shoot? Or was it linked to the suffering just the same?
Ethan drummed his fingers over his cup before taking another mouthful of the steamy tea. After how their spar went, it felt wise to give Cassandra a break from the prying. He could save this moment in his head for further dissecting another time. For now, it was just nice to have a calm conversation with Cassandra.
"Did Bela ever tell you how she remembered?" Cassandra asked.
Ethan's brows raised high. "Uh, no – no, she hasn't."
He may have leaned in a fraction closer in anticipation.
Cassandra was silent for a long beat, studying Ethan with her ever-scrutinous eyes. When she was done giving him that signature stare, she took a breath, and began.
"The two of us were out on a hunt one day. We split off to chase two different targets." Cassandra only paused to shift in her seat. She untucked her legs, choosing instead to cross one leg over the other, before smoothing out her robe. "By the time we reconvened in our usual spot, Bela was a weeping mess." Cassandra's eyes narrowed as she glared at the table. "Bloody. Unresponsive. Her weapon was nowhere to be seen. I thought she was hurt, but no – Bela was unharmed. She was inconsolable, and I couldn't get a word out of her. I practically had to drag her back home, because she didn't want to leave the village. A few nights later," Cassandra sighed, frowning as she went over the memories, "we gathered in the library as per Bela's request."
Ethan scooted his chair half a foot closer, crossing his arms on the table and leaning in to listen.
"That was the first and only time Bela talked about what she remembered." Cassandra's eyes fell away from Ethan's, staring into her tea. "About what she lost… whom she lost." A pregnant pause came, only broken by the quiet sound of Cassandra sipping. With a breath, she said, "Bela was like a completely different person after that. She never helped me with our duties again. Never hunted again. No games, no nothing. She was…" Cassandra's lips parted, and stayed that way as she gathered her words. "The person I knew was gone."
For the nth time that day, Ethan's head was ready to begin spinning. The first question out of his lips was, "Wait – what happened while she was out there? How did she remember?"
"She never gave specifics." Cassandra shook her head. "She must have seen something or…" A huff and a shrug of the shoulders. "I don't know. We hunted throughout the entire valley together for decades, and nothing like that ever happened." Her face tightened, frustrated lines forming over her tattooed forehead. A snarl threatened to set into her lips. "I came back in the days that followed. Tried to retrace the path Bela took, but I found nothing." The fire fizzled out from Cassandra's eyes as the seconds passed. Her shoulders sagged down, and in a mutter, she said "You would have to ask Bela yourself what happened on that day."
Ethan thumbed the rim of his cup. To busy his hands and prevent any unnecessary fidgeting, he poured himself some tea, topping up the cup. "What was she like before she remembered anyway?"
"Vicious," was the first word out Cassandra's mouth. "Ruthless. Not a shred of remorse or sympathy for anyone but our family." Her jaw clenched tight for a beat, and she added, "She was always angry. There was no such thing as enough blood for her." Ethan could practically see the carnage in Cassandra's eyes – as though she was reliving it all in that moment. Quieter and quieter, Cassandra whispered, "She could kill, and kill, and kill, and it would never be enough."
"And it was a complete 180 when she remembered?" Ethan asked, receiving a hum of affirmation in return.
It lined up with some of the working hypotheses in Ethan's head. The restoration of Bela's memories – however that happened – was what ushered in her change. While said change had driven a wedge between Bela and her family, Ethan could hazard to say that, objectively, it was for the better. Less bodies dropped within the last ten years, if Bela had retired from the hunt when she remembered. That brought more good into this world than the bad it brought to the Dimitrescu sisters' family dynamic. Hell – it was probably because of those memories that he hadn't been strung up from the ceiling on day one.
Now it was a matter of getting the sisters to all play nice with each other, and stop killing people for sport and food.
Ethan raised his brows a little at the thought. He had his work cut out for him, didn't he?
"I'm not really mad at Bela," Cassandra admitted after a while, her voice coming out small and soft. "Not much, anyway. Not like I was before." She didn't dare look up from her cup as she spoke quietly, "At first, I was so, so mad at her. But now? I just miss her." Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "I miss my big sister."
"Cass…" Ethan frowned.
"I suppose in the back of my head, that was another thing I took personally when you came along." Cassandra glanced up at Ethan once. "I was jealous you so effortlessly got her attention, while I…" She trailed off, but the rest need not be said. Ethan wouldn't say it was effortless, but he saw where she was going with that.
"Yeah. I get it." Ethan paused, licking his lips. "I… I'm sorry?"
Cassandra huffed, a small smile breaking through the melancholic frown. "No, it's not your fault, man-thing. I know you mean a lot to Bela." Her eyes came up, a certain lightness twinkling in her gaze. "These past weeks, it's been nice seeing Bela smiling more. Dani, too." Cassandra's face fell, and she averted her eyes. "Even if it did leave me in the dark."
Under the table, Ethan nudged Cassandra's leg with his foot. "Hey. Haven't I been making you smile too?" Ethan gave her a grin, which soon grew contagious, as Cassandra was smiling back despite her best efforts to bite it down. "A bit of lag on my part, but I got around to you too, didn't I?"
The warm glow of the lamps and the fireplace made Cassandra's smile positively radiant. It was always an endearing sight to see that dimple at the corner of Cassandra's smile. But, never one to flash genuine emotion for long, Cassandra rolled her eyes and huffed, "This is getting far too sappy for me, but yes, I suppose so. I appreciate it." She tilted her head, raising her dark brows as she put on an air of exasperation. "Eugh. There, I said it. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Yep." Ethan gave his best shit-eating grin. "The happiest."
Cassandra made a show out of muttering, "Ridiculous man-thing," into her tea before taking a drink.
"You know, everyone says that," Ethan said, gesturing with his cup, "but you all keep me around anyway."
"Yes, we don't have a choice, do we?" Cassandra gave the best imitation of her basilisk glare, now lacking all the venom it once had. "Need I remind you that we're not allowed to kill you?"
It drew an amused snort from Ethan, as Cassandra went on to ask, "How did Bela used to put up with you?" Cassandra curled her lip. "Or better yet – how did your wife put up with you?"
Laughing softly, Ethan shrugged. "I dunno, I guess they both found me funny."
Cassandra shook her head, but then asked, a little more seriously this time, "That's your wedding band, right?"
Ethan followed the tip of Cassandra's pointer finger to the ring around his necklace. Almost automatically, his hand came up, fingers brushing against the smooth metal. His eyes fell on the engraving on the inside. "Yeah, it is."
Her lips parted, and the hesitation crossed her face for just a moment. "What was her name?"
"Mia." Ethan smiled. His hand went towards his back, only to stop halfway. "I'd show you a picture, but I left my journal in my room."
A hum, and Cassandra repeated, "Mia." Her lips twitched up in a subtle smile. "That's a pretty name."
"Pretty name for a pretty woman," Ethan confirmed with a final brush of his fingers to the wedding band. The thought of his late wife's gorgeous face had his smile growing wider, even if it did send a pang of hurt through his heart.
Cassandra reached for the pot, refilling her cup before taking the liberty to top up Ethan's cup as well. A sympathetic frown crinkled her face. "You must miss her a lot."
"I do." Ethan gulped, averting his eyes to his steamy cup of chamomile. "I guess… the different environment I'm in sort of plays a role in keeping the grief away. If I was back at home and trying to go through my regular everyday life…"
"You'd feel her absence much more," Cassandra completed the thought.
"Exactly." Ethan nodded, still keeping his eyes down. He thumbed the rim of the cup for a moment before taking a slow sip. Then he sighed, and admitted, "Bela helped a lot with the grief, early on. I… I dunno how I would've made it through that first week without her." Ethan left out the part where he broke down crying in Bela's arms. "It's, uh… it's a complicated thing, y'know – the grief. Comes and goes. Sometimes it's so bad I don't wanna get out of bed. Other times, it's easy to bottle it up and put on a strong face." For just a moment, Ethan could hear the smashing of glass, and feel bloody wine pooling at his knees. "Sometimes I wanna smash everything in sight, just to feel anything at all."
Cassandra hummed her understanding. When Ethan risked a glance her way, he found her staring just as intently at her tea; her trigger finger tapped its erratic beat against the spotless porcelain.
"Lately I've been trying to keep my mind busy with anything that presents itself. The more occupied my thoughts are, the better." It was part of why he was so fixated on setting the Dimitrescu sisters straight, and helping repair their relationships with one another. Such an undertaking kept his brain occupied, and constantly planning. "If my brain stops working, I start thinking about Mia instead. Thinking about all the stuff I could have, should have, would have done for her."
A pause, and Ethan gulped the thickness forming in his throat. "I'll start thinking about how I could have saved her. How I could've piled on top of her to take the bullets for her. I'm," he cut himself off, "I was her husband, y'know? I was supposed to look out for her – protect her, but I failed."
"That isn't on you," Cassandra's firm voice cut through the self-loathing before it could take root. "That is on Redfield."
"Maybe," Ethan muttered. "Maybe not."
Other times, Ethan felt like maybe this was him trying to atone for his failure as a husband and a father. Because of his inaction, Ethan may as well have killed Mia himself, and placed Rose right into Lady Dimitrescu's hands.
This – all of this – the act of helping the Dimitrescu sisters may be his attempt at atonement. For better or worse, he would see this through to the end.
Helping other people, because he failed to help his own family. Helping steer the sisters to a lighter, less bloody path, so that other people need not die, because he failed to keep his own wife from dying, and his daughter from being taken.
Ethan wasn't sure, really. Psychoanalyzing the sisters was easier than trying to poke around in his own mind – and considering they were mass murderers, and he was just a guy in over his head, who lost his wife twice, it said a lot about his mental state. Besides, being an outsider looking in was infinitely simpler than being an insider looking in. His motivations for helping the sisters were not clear and cut. They weren't easily definable in a way that could be summarized simply and concisely. At the end of the day, Ethan figured all that mattered was that he was trying to do good at all – contribute more good to the world than bad.
That was simple enough for him.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your wife… about Mia." Cassandra tapped her trigger finger against the cup in hand – then quickly set it down on the table. She unfolded her crossed legs, resting her arms on the table. "I hope that our… family drama is keeping you busy enough."
Ethan huffed a slight laugh. "Yeah. It is."
Cassandra chewed on her bottom lip in a way that was too reminiscent of her older sister. "This… thing with Bela – how she shut you out – it won't last forever, I think." She shifted to idly drape one arm over the backrest of her chair, then adjusted the grip on her cup. "Nobody has gotten through to her like you have, Ethan. That must count for something. You'll figure it out." A little smile, and she corrected herself. "We'll figure it out. Daniela as well – I'm certain she has some insight that will help you get through to Bela again. If anyone can help you, it's Dani."
Ethan smiled, even as an incredulous frown furrowed at his brow. He swallowed the disbelief of her support in favor of expressing his gratitude. "I'm glad you two have my back."
"I can't imagine how deep in her hole Bela would be if you had not come along," Cassandra glanced away, interrupting her own train of thought, "Well, ignoring for now this latest setback…" She shook her head, getting back on track, "I am glad you came into Bela's life at all." A pause, and she added, "Dani's too." Then she looked away, rolled her eyes, and shrugged for added nonchalance, "And mine."
"Aww…" Ethan's shit-eating grin made a return. "And here I thought you said this was getting too sappy." Ethan was just a little tempted to reach over and poke Cassandra in the side – but she may slice his hand clean off if he tried.
"It is," Cassandra confirmed with a cringe, "Just admitting all that makes me want to vomit."
Ethan laughed at the sour look on Cassandra's face, even as a smile began to tug on her lips as well. To allow the woman a moment to get over the sappiness, he extended his teacup forward. "Thanks for the tea, Cass. We should do this more often."
"Hmm," Cassandra hummed, sounding contemplative. The sarcasm filled her tone as she reached forward with her cup. "I suppose I can stand talking to you without gunfire or fists flying around." Another crinkle of disgust crossed her face, even as her smile betrayed her true emotions. "Just barely, though."
With faux seriousness, Ethan agreed, "Yeah, I think I can tolerate you when we're not beating each other senseless."
Cassandra giggled – a surprisingly sweet sound when his bodily harm was not its cause. She smiled wider, bringing out the dimple in her cheek as she raised the teacup. "To tolerating each other, then."
Ethan toasted her cup. "To tolerating each other."
A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, and for reading this chapter here! Be sure to fave and follow so you don't miss the next update!
I am behind schedule, I know - that's my bad. Got a loooot going on in my personal life, so it's been very challenging to find the time to really sit down and write. Even when I *do* have the time, it's just as hard to get into the correct headspace where the creative juices are flowing and all.
This was a pleasant chapter to write, and I hope you all enjoyed another look at Cassandra as her walls continue to come down around Ethan. We're getting closer and closer to the juiciest bits of this arc, and I can't wait to share it with you all.
I've commissioned some new art from Anna Sassi for this chapter, so be sure to check it out on AO3, or on imgur, just slap this onto the usual link: / a / eujBTxK
Next chapter will go up perhaps around the weekend of the 23rd. As usual - sooner if we're all lucky, and later if life gets too busy.
Make sure to give the socials a peek on your way out: linktr . ee / sylvesterm . The September Q&A is up, and I was able to tackle some fun questions, and shared a little writerly advice as well. Lots of behind the scenes tidbits to my writing available for viewing up there as well.
That's it from me for now. I'll catch you all around soon enough. Stay safe out there!
