Warning: this one-shot contains blood, violence, mild gore, self-harm, & other sensitive topics.


This is the second time that Fiona's woken up and found herself trapped behind metal bars. Just like before, the walls around her are built from stone. It's dark. The stench of rot hangs in the air. Something somewhere is dripping. Chains creak. Though, unlike last time, she's in a cell instead of a dog cage.

Her body aches horrifically from laying on the rough, earthen floor. Slowly, she sits up, swaying slightly. Her head is pounding like nothing else. The dread flooding through her body slowly increases as her eyes continue to adjust.

She can't help but think back to the first waking nightmare she found herself in.

Lightning had cracked across the sky, thunder booming in its wake.

Tires screeched. A car horn blared. Glass shattered. A man laughed.

When Fiona opened her eyes, a scream tore its way from her throat. And when she was greeted with the owlish gaze of the hulking groundskeeper, one of his large hands reaching through the bars of the cage, another one followed.

Fiona jolted back as far the small space allowed her to, clutching the sheet she had been covered with to her chest. Her clothes were gone!

The groundskeeper laughed, his lips pulling back in a gap-toothed grin. "Hi, Dolly!"

'Dolly?!'

He pulled his hand out, looked around like he was about to do something he knew he wasn't supposed to, and pulled his big keyring from the belt loop of his tattered trousers.

An old-fashioned key entered the padlock. The cage opened. The big, grimy hand reentered the space. Fiona couldn't shrink away any further.

Before the groundskeeper made contact, though, something growled. Something that darted out from under a nearby table and, in a flash of white, leaped onto him.

"Bad doggy! Bad! Gets off!" He cried out, straightening up somewhat as he tried to pull the animal off. Droplets of blood hit the floor. Despite the fear clouding her brain, Fiona managed to take advantage of the opportunity. She scrambled out of the cage, between the groundskeeper's legs while he was preoccupied, and tried to get to her feet. One of her hands came into contact with an object lying on the floor. She grabbed it without thinking as she booked it up the stairs.

Once she was outside, Fiona kept running. Across the grounds. Up another two sets of stairs that appear to be attached to a castle. The door at the top was unlocked. She threw herself inside and shut it behind her, trying to catch her breath and calm her pounding heart.

She lifted her hand up. Fiona had ended up grabbing a broken dog collar with a metal nameplate that read HEWIE. It must have belonged to the dog who saved her. She sent him a silent thanks, hoping that he was okay.

She had entered a dusty bedroom. One that was thankfully empty. A chest of drawers stood beside the poorly made bed. With the hope that she could find something other than a sheet to wear, Fiona searched through it. One set of clothes sat inside. A white top with an azure brooch and a short purple skirt. It was far better than nothing.

With no other options, Fiona made her way further into the castle in search of an exit. She met a man called Riccardo twice. The first time, his slimy voice had carried from somewhere out of his view. He vaguely hinted at what he had intended to do with her. He claimed she would be his.

Fiona fled from the room while he laughed, feeling dirty.

The second time, he had stopped the groundskeeper - who she finally learned was named Debilitas - from pursuing her, which he had been continuously doing as Fiona navigated her way through dilapidated corridors and cobweb-filled rooms. Riccardo introduced himself properly. He claimed her to be the sole surviving heir of the castle and told her that her parents were dead. Fiona knew Riccardo was, without a doubt, the reason why.

Hewie saved her again. He ended up becoming her companion. She didn't know what she would do without him by her side.

Their ticket to freedom ended up being handed to them by none other than Debilitas. After she had sent a chandelier crashing down upon him in the chapel, he backed off. And when Fiona ran into him in his shack not much later, he turned away from the bizarre shrine beside his bed, dropping to his knees. Through a series of grunts, Debilitas begged for some sort of forgiveness, offering her a smudged key.

The key opened the front gate. After fumbling to get it into the lock, Fiona wasted no time in escaping with Hewie.

But what happened after that? How did she end up trapped yet again? Where was Hewie? Was he okay? Fiona's recollection of the recent past felt like it was submerged in murky waters.

With her parents dead, no car, no money, no real idea of where she was, and no sign of civilization in sight, all Fiona could do was start walking. That was what she had done. She and Hewie kept walking for a very long time.

Long enough that they had to stop and rest more than once.

Long enough that the sun set and the moon rose time and time again.

Eventually, a village had come into view. One that, as the two of them grew closer, seemed to be deserted.

Still, Fiona tried knocking on a few doors. Surprisingly, it wasn't very long before a door to a ramshackle house opened up. It belonged to a middle-aged couple. One with a daughter around twenty. They had offered Fiona and Hewie shelter from the blistering cold, safety from the dangerous things that supposedly roamed the area. Fiona wasn't quite sure what. They knew very little English, and Fiona, unfortunately, didn't know any of whatever they natively spoke.

She had hoped the "dangerous things" were something normal. Like wolves.

A few days passed. Fiona started to get a bad feeling when she nearly walked in on the couple having a conversation in front of a window in hushed voices, clearly having some sort of argument.

During the night that followed, Fiona remembered seeing the dark shape of a carriage outside. Then, without warning, there was a loud metallic clang. Like a gong. Pain exploded across the back of her head and she fell to the floor, rattled and disoriented.

The husband stood over her, an old frying pan in one hand. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry. This is not your fault. It has to happen, though."

"Why?" Fiona questioned weakly, managing to get back onto her hands and knees.

"We are not handing over our daughter." He raised the pan again. Everything went dark.

That was it. That was everything. They had handed Fiona over to someone. Or something. And now she's locked in a cell. This couldn't be happening.

'Not again. Not again!' she thinks, tugging on the door in vain. 'There has to be a way out of here!'

Fiona searches the rest of the small space she's in. Hidden behind the thin, tattered blanket hanging off the wooden boards that pass as a bed, she finds a hole in the wall that leads to another cell, the door of which ends up opening.

Around her, Fiona can make out plenty of dark stains, horrid-looking torture devices, and shelves full of stacks of paper and old jars. She can't see anyone else. No prisoners. No captors…

She locates a set of doors. They refuse to open. There's a locked metal box beside them. Fiona needs a key. Or something to pick the lock with. She ventures back.

There's a noise from somewhere nearby. She begins to feel more uneasy than she already is. She really needs to try and find a weapon too.

As she searches more thoroughly, she discovers that there are more prisoners around. They just happen to be what's letting off the stench of rot. Or they're nothing but bones now. The most intact one Fiona finds is lying face down, a pair of bolt cutters sticking out of her lower back.

Managing to swallow down the bile that threatened to rise up her throat, Fiona steels herself and pulls them free. They're going to be her weapon, she decides. Not long after, she locates a lock pick in a pool of blood beside an overturned bucket. She's going to get out!

Just before Fiona reaches the locked box, she hears more noise. Inhuman groaning. Hissing. Wailing. Something pounding against the wood of a boarded-up cell. As she tries to pick the lock as fast as humanly possible, Fiona wonders very briefly if the sounds belonged to the dangerous things the couple had referred to.

The box opens.

Fiona pulls down the lever inside.

The doors open.

She doesn't linger. Not even for a second.

Eventually, she finds a ladder that leads her to an area far nicer than where she had woken up. The wooden floors are polished to perfection. Everything is ornate and colored either cream-white or gold. There's no doubt now in Fiona's mind that she's in another castle. She would probably admire the architecture if the thought of being in a castle again didn't make her nauseous.

'What is that buzzing?'

"Hello," somebody practically purrs from behind her. "You look a little lost."

Fiona whips around, swinging the bolt cutters as hard as she can. They never make contact. The dark-cloaked woman's torso dissolves into a swarm of bugs, reforming once the tool passes by. Despite everything she's already been through, Fiona finds herself frozen in shock.

The woman giggles. She has red hair and golden eyes with a wild glint. "Now, now, that's not very nice at all." With ease, she pries the bolt cutters from Fiona's grasp and lunges forward, her teeth sinking into the skin between Fiona's neck and shoulder. It's agony. She cries out.

Her first instinct is to try and push the redhead away. The redhead lets her do it, but not without tearing a chunk of Fiona's flesh away. Fiona stumbles, bumping into something.

"It's been a while since we've had an escape artist. I missed seeing fresh meat be so bold."

Fiona looks up. There's a brunette clad in practically the same attire as the redhead, staring at her like a dangerous predator stares at new prey.

Only one thought enters Fiona's mind. One that's been making a frequent appearance as of late: 'Run.' So she does, slipping past the brunette and darting off down the corridor. And another. And another, until she reaches a polished wooden staircase. She goes down it two steps at a time.

There's a set of doors to the right of them. She pulls on the handles. They don't budge.

The buzzing is becoming steadily louder. There's cackling. And more giggling. They're catching up.

Fiona spins around, finally noticing that there's yet another figure in a dark cloak crouched in front of the fireplace with a fire poker in hand. Instead of eyes like molten honey peering out from under the hood, there's gray. Like a lake that's just barely frozen over. She's staring straight at Fiona, head tilted slightly to the side. Her face is like a statue. Beautiful and wearing a blank expression.

Fiona freezes in place for a moment too long. Something flies past her and ends up lodged in the wall, quivering slightly. It's a sickle. One that had been only a few inches short of slicing her nose clean off her face.

"Ugh!" The brunette is standing on the floor above, glaring down at her and gripping the railing with absurd force. The redhead forms beside her.

Fiona decides to make a break for a different door. There's one beside the fireplace.

"Give me that."

"No way! Go get yours!"

The brunette doesn't listen. A second sickle sails through the air. The point sinks in right below one of Fiona's clavicles. It sends her crashing back onto the tiles. For a moment, the pain that spreads through her body like a shockwave renders her unable to move. She can do nothing but lay there.

"Hey, homunculus! Did that fall knock her out?" the brunette asks. She must be talking to the woman by the fireplace.

Fiona doesn't hear anybody coming closer, but suddenly, a shadow falls over her. She decides to keep still. The homunculus leans down. Two of her icy fingers press against the side of Fiona's neck. Goosebumps erupt across her skin. She can't help her sharp intake of breath.

The homunculus' breath ghosts the shell of Fiona's ear. It, like her touch, is far from warm. Her voice is barely audible. Curled hair tickles her cheek. "I would pretend to be limp if I were you, Miss."

Is Fiona feeling light-headed because she probably has a concussion, she's losing blood, or is it something else?

The homunculus pulls away and her voice becomes louder. Though, not by much. "It did, Miss Cassandra. I will take her back down to the cellar where she belongs."

"Why bother?" Cassandra says. "If she plans on being trouble, I say we cut her antics short and—"

There's more buzzing followed by a thwack.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"Don't even think about it," a new voice says. "Mother said that she wants this one kept alive for now."

"Fine." Cassandra huffs. "I don't get what makes her special, though…"

"Make sure she doesn't escape again."

"Understood, Miss Bela."

Fiona decides to listen to the homunculus, so she's completely limp as she's scooped up by surprisingly strong arms.

"What about my sickle?" the redhead whines.

"I shall clean it off before I return it to you."

It feels an eternity before Fiona's set down again and allowed to open her eyes.

They're in the cellar, but Fiona isn't back in a cell. The weapon sticking out of her is clear as day in her field of view. She tries her best to not let it feed into her panic, to not focus on the pain.

The homunculus stands in front of her, posture rigid and hands folded together neatly at her waist. Fiona is still very nervous, but almost cautiously optimistic. There is definitely something unnerving about the homunculus. There is no doubt about that. But she probably just saved Fiona from further injury. Or death, if Cassandra decided to ignore her mother and Bela.

It takes Fiona a minute to find her voice again. "You lied to them."

The homunculus stares at her for a bit longer before replying. "I did."

"...Why?"

"Consider me curious, Miss. I wish to know… where did you come from before you found yourself here?" The homunculus slowly tilts her head to the side. "Did you come from another castle, perhaps?"

"Yes. I did," Fiona slowly replies, completely taken aback. "How do you know that…?"

"That birthmark upon your shoulder, Miss. It is indicative of your lineage. Of the special Azoth you carry…"

That word. Azoth. Instantly, Fiona is further on the defensive. She still doesn't know exactly what it is, but she knows that it was what Riccardo wanted from her.

The homunculus takes a robotic step closer. Fiona swallows.

"Those clothes you wear, they used to be mine…"

"You… Who are you?"

Fingers begin to stiltedly trace the curved blade sticking out of her, leaving a trail of red behind. The homunculus' touch must be light because Fiona doesn't feel it being pushed down on. If the fresh cuts hurt the woman, she doesn't let it be known. The action is… incredibly bizarre, to say the least. Bizarre and concerning. Fiona isn't sure what to do. Or say. And she doesn't even get an opportunity to try and formulate the proper response.

The homunculus reaches the end of the steel. Without warning, she grabs the handle and yanks. Fiona yelps. Like an unplugged leak, blood begins to pour from the wound with the sickle removed. The homunculus looks between the injury and the stained weapon, expression still blank.

"Apologies, Miss." She pulls out a clean rag and hands it to Fiona, then moves Fiona's hand up so that she's pushing the rag against the puncture wound.

Fiona supposes that it had to come out eventually, but she would have appreciated more of a warning. Or any at all. She leans back against the wall behind her, feeling more unsteady than before.

"My name is Daniella. I come from Castle Belli as well. I spent most of my existence there as its sole maid because I am incapable of fulfilling my true purpose."

"...Oh... No wonder why everything was such a mess," is all that Fiona can think to say.

The corners of Daniella's lips turn up. It is unclear whether she finds amusement in the remark or the fact that the residents of Castle Belli struggle without her. There's something dark in Daniella's dead eyes so Fiona leans towards the latter.

"How did you end up here?"

"I am inclined to ask you the same," Daniella tells her. "My previous master relied on me heavily due to his old age. And with the news of your coming arrival, I suppose Riccardo deemed me more useless than before. More of a hindrance and threat to his plans than an aid. I was disposed of."

"That's… That's just awful."

Daniella carries on. "This castle's mistress… She has been far more gracious towards me than those who used to hold power over me have ever been. When I began my stay, she told me that in this place, the fact that I am… incomplete… matters not. But despite that, there is a persistent emptiness within me that refuses to let its presence go unnoticed. It never stops gnawing. I wonder…" Fiona hopes that Daniella isn't insinuating what she thinks she's insinuating, "will she continue to be so gracious if I disobey her just this once…?"

'Oh no. Please don't. Please don't—'

Fiona drops down onto the floor, the sickle striking the stone she had previously been leaning against. Why is everybody trying to kill her?! "W-wait!" she stutters out, scrambling away. Her back hits another wall.

Daniella turns around, raising the weapon with the intention of once again trying to slice her open. She's grinning, but it doesn't reach her eyes even slightly.

"I'm sure that I can help you without—!" The sickle comes towards her once more. She braces herself for impact.

None ever comes. Fiona finds the nerve to look and see why.

The tip of the blade is right beside her throat. One sharp movement - like the one that saw it removed from her earlier - and her neck will be sliced open. Daniella has actually given pause, though her face shows no interest in what Fiona has to say. Fiona tries to get the rest of her sentence out. "...Without you hurting me…"

The steel kisses her skin, bringing forth a bead of blood. "What makes you think you're—you're incomplete?" Then, it moves back to its previous position.

Daniella's eyes slowly move around Fiona's face, taking in every inch of it. Something intense is flickering behind the ice. "...I cannot experience pleasure or pain ...I cannot taste… Cannot bear children… How am I meant to fix that, without your essence of life…? How will I ever be more than a puppet without Azoth…?" She laughs. It's loud. Shrill. Not what you would expect after hearing her speaking voice. "How will I obtain true worth, Miss Fiona?"

Fiona has only just met Daniella, but she doesn't want her to believe she is broken and worthless. Doesn't want to die. Really doesn't want to die. Doesn't want to screw up what will undoubtedly decide her fate. When she answers, every word that comes out has been taken into careful consideration.

Daniella laughs again. The sickle moves.