Lord Dimitrescu and reader.
A/N: I’m very sorry for making you wait! Hopefully this extra long chapter will make up for it.
Warnings: These are bad people doing bad things, there’s bound to be a little violence. Distressing themes. Mentions of starvation.
Words: 5499.
Christ. Could you not go five fucking minuets in this place without something horrifying happening? Just one moment where you’re not cowering in fear, or being subjected to some undignified scene. No, apparently not. Apparently fate was enjoying seeing you suffer, and was treating your predicament like some kind of game.
You had locked yourself, in what you thought, was your room. But as you turned around to face the scenery, you were quick to see that wasn’t the case. Even though you had never entered this room before, there was something about it that was awfully familiar. The same intricate designs coating the spacious room, the way the furniture was too big to be considered normal, and the way the room made you feel oh so small.
Oh god. Not again.
Luck was not on your side either. It seemed to have abandoned you long ago, instead letting you stumble through life without its guidance. Somehow you manged to fling yourself right into the dragons den, landing yourself in the bedroom of the Lord. You closed your eyes, leaning your head against the door. No matter how far you ran, you always seemed to end up deeper in this hell. But there was no time to feel sorry for yourself as a familiar set of footsteps echoed outside the door. Damnit. How on earth did they manage to find you so fast? You were certain you ran far enough to loosen the chase a little. You couldn’t leave the room yet, there had to be somewhere to hide.
The wardrobe? Oh no, not again. Not ever. You had already had your fare share of wardrobe adventures, and because the last one went oh so well, you decided it would be best to leave it. It was a fine defence as is, but it would be too predictable. Hiding in the same place twice was a recipe for disaster. The bed then? Oh, what the hell. Without a second thought you hit the deck, scrambling underneath the bed like a shrew burrowing for shelter. There was certainly a lot of wiggle room. The bed was wide enough to accommodate for a small portion of the village.
Shuffling the edge of the bed, you lifted the duvet with your finger and peeked out to watch the door. You didn’t want to get too close, obviously not wanting to get caught yet again. But it would be a good idea to watch his movements. If he got too close, you could always scramble away. Maybe if you were quick enough you could hurry out the other side and make a break for the door. Just try not to get caught in the process. See, simple as that. You finished finalising the ‘intricate’ escape plan in your head as the door swung open.
You expected him to enter the room with more force, striding over to the bed and pulling you out kicking and screaming. But, to your surprise, that didn’t happen. Instead he moved calmly through the room, seemingly forgetting he was looking for something, and planted himself in a chair opposite the fireplace. He made himself comfortable, indulging in the warmth of the hearth. You held your breath, wondering what was happening. Maybe he didn’t notice you.
“Do you plan on hiding under there forever?” As quick as that thought occurred it was shot down. You tensed, shuffling further away from the edge. Not that would really do anything. He was already aware of your presence, but you still wanted to retain a feeling of safety. Though in this situation, you couldn’t feel any more in danger. “Come out, it’s rude to hide when someone is trying to talking to you.”
So, after being put off from meat for the rest of your life, now was the time he wanted to talk to you? He knew he could have started with this, right? That would have made a much better impression. Putting aside the Lords questionable conversation skills, you supposed it would be much worse if you didn’t do as he said. He was sure to have a temper underneath his composure, and like hell you were going to test it. In time you plucked up the courage and crawled out, gingerly placing yourself in the chair opposite him. If there were any questions on your mind, now was the time to ask them.
“Why are being nice to me?” You blurted out. It wasn’t something you had intend to ask, you already knew the answer. “Why not just take my blood now?”
“That’s an obvious answer.” He stifled his laugh, taking an interest in your ignorance. “You wouldn’t kill the goose that lays golden eggs, would you?”
“Pardon?” You ask. G-Goose?
“How disappointing, don’t they teach your generation anything these days?” He pinched his brow. Really, this new generation was something. From his hand he produced an apple, drawing your attention as he held it up. “It’s an old folktale, the villagers are quite familiar with it.
There was once a cottager and his wife. They were in possession of a very peculiar item. A goose with the ability to lay golden eggs. Everyday the goose gave them a golden egg, and in return the couple feed and sheltered the goose. It was a mutual agreement.” Dimitrescu held the apple out, tempting you. Your fingers dug into the armrest, not wanting to give in.
When the Lord sensed you weren’t taking the bait, he rested his elbow on the armrest as he held the fruit in one hand, turning it over and inspecting it thoroughly. The way his eyes stayed fixated with the object, looking at it as if it were an ancient artefact, peeked your curiosity. It was only a simple fruit, yet to him it seemed to hold great value. His thumb placed itself atop the apple, digging into the space where the stalk stuck out. “But the couple were foolish. They believed the goose must contain a great quantity of gold inside, thus why it had the ability to produce it. Fuelled by their own greed, the couple decided to capture the creature and cut it open.” A crisp snap resonated in the air. It happened so fast you didn’t even see it. The apple, previously in tact, had been broken in two with only the force of his thumb.
You swallowed, suddenly remembering the grip he held around your throat. At any moment he could have snapped your neck right then and there, it would have been so easy, and this entire scenario could have been avoided. But he had shown restraint for his own strength, taking pleasure in watching you squirm, and instead let you run. Sometimes it was easy to forget exactly what position you were in, and these little reminders were always there to slap you back into reality.
The Lord, now holding two half’s in one hand, took one and bit into it. A sizable chunk was missing. He chuckled. “So gauche… Of course, the goose differed in no respect with any other of their animals. It was only a simple goose. And so the tale ends; with the couple depriving themselves of the riches they were assured, all because they were inpatient.” He finished his half and proceeded to toss the fruit in the fire. The embers took it gracefully, slowly embracing the core within it’s burning hold. The other half still remained. Once again, he offered it to you. “Folktales are more than just stories, little one. They are warnings. And those who do not respect them are fated to enact them.”
The apple, plump and red, began to tempt you. It looked freshly picked, ripe and ready for eating. Before you had even registered the situation, your hand had subconsciously reached for the food. Fingers grasped around it and pulled it back towards you. It stayed in your palm as you inhaled it’s scent. Sweet and succulent, it drew you in with the promise of relief. It was so close, only a short distance away from your lips. You opened your mouth, but did not take a bite.
“Y/n.” You suddenly spoke. 'Little one’ It was the nickname he used for you. Though you couldn’t say you were deathly opposed to it, it still irked you. While not untrue, there was something about it that was condescending. “My name is y/n,” Your eyes met his. “Since you haven’t bothered to ask.”
The Lord seemed taken aback. Confronting him on the matter was a bold move, and he didn’t know if he liked the spark or not. “My apologies, how unseemly of me. Must have slipped my mind.”
Must have slipped his mind. What a pathetic excuse. Was he going to ask at all? Or would he have preferred not to know, only addressing you as his 'personal guest’. Even farmers had the manners to name their cattle before they were slaughtered. Your gaze turned to the floor. So that’s what you were to them. Nothing more than an animal that provides for their greed. Held in a cushioned slaughterhouse with you as the prized meat. You didn’t know which fate was worse. Being drained all at once or slowly bleeding to death. Either way, fate was inevitable.
You gripped the apple in your hand, believing you were powerful enough to crush it. Even against your aggression, the apple remained intact. You hated that. You hated how much weaker you were compared to him. You hated the fact that no matter what you did, no matter what you said, it didn’t matter, because there was always something preventing you. You had to change that. You had to take matters into your own hands. “Do you think I want this? This… Peace offering?” Without thinking, you threw the apple across the room. It hit an expensive looking plate, bounced off, and landed face down into the pleasant carpet, the plate followed suit. “Is that what you view me as, some simple goose? I hope you savoured the flavour of my blood, because it will never taste that good again. I will not eat. I will rot away here. I would rather starve to death then be used as a tool to sustain you.”
For a moment, you felt proud. For the first time since you entered this castle, you had stood up for yourself. Not running away, not hiding somewhere else, standing your ground and speaking your mind. It was quite exhilarating, actually. You smiled to yourself. Finally overcoming the fear you once felt.
That feeling, however, did not last. There was an ever-growing ambience in the room, once that threatened to stomp out that fire inside you. He stood, and immediately your heart dropped. No longer was this conversation casual. It had taken a hostile turn, not allowing for any means of backtracking. You pushed yourself back into your chair, bracing for whatever would come next. He drew closer, planting both his hands on either side of the chair as he leant down, trapping you. For a second, you considered clawing an opening in the back to escape. He spoke, restraining the anger in his voice. “You see yourself as a hero destined to change their fate. And yet you still behave like a babe whose tantrum never ceases.” He took you by the scruff of the neck, grabbing hold and pulling you up.
His eyes, seething yellow, were like pointed daggers. Not only did his eyes piece, they infected you. Digging deep into your subconscious and burning their way into your memory. It was a sight you won’t soon forget. “I have taken you in on my own will, given you everything you could ask for, and this is how you repay my hospitality? I will not allow you to insult house Dimitrescu more than you already have. You are lucky my sons have taken a liking to you. I, however, am not so easily swayed. I have given you luxuries, and I can easily have them taken away. Do not bite the hand that feeds you, y/n. More often than not, you’ll find it bites back.”
He started walking, with you still attached. You were uprooted from your seat and lead like a stray puppy out of the room. The Lord took long strides, going at a faster pace then you were used to. The hallways began to blur together, looking like a portrait caught in the rain. Before you knew it, he was already taking you down a second flight of stairs, loosening his hold as you arrived at your destination. He let go, causing you to stumble forward against a metallic cage. You held on to the bars, fearful you might loose your balance if you let go.
Lord Dimitrescu stood behind you, bringing a pointed finger to the cage, ushering you to take a closer look. There was something in the corner. Huddled in the darkest part of the room was a figure, hunched over and focuses intently on something. You squinted your eyes, trying to make scene of the scene. Whatever it was, it appeared to be covered in dark rags. The creature turned to you, slowly easing it’s way into the light, a dead rat carcass hanging from it’s mouth. It lurched towards you, jumping up and clawing it’s hands through the space in-between the bars. You stumbled backward, bumping your smaller frame against his.
There was more of them. Some of them were armed, brandishing their weapons lazily in their hands, clanging them against the bars of their cage. It made a horrible metallic sound, you cringed every time it rang through the air. Callous groans called out to you, sounding something between a cry and a gasp for help. The creatures took hold of your attention, taking your mind hostage in their feral claws.
You couldn’t bring yourself to ask what these monsters were. Dimitrescu looked on, watching your face shift from surprise, to confusion, to disgust. The horrors of his castle proved useful in scaring his guest. He knew what they were, and he was more than happy to feed that dangerously curious mind of yours. “Experiments. Moroaica, to be precise. Previously human, not anymore.”
You looked upon them in horror. All remnant of humanity had been drained out of them, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell of their former selves. Grey and dishevelled, they resided in the uncanny valley of your mind, a horrible mash up of monster and mortal. You couldn’t believe these were human to begin with. Once they were residents in the village, just like the others. Having their own lives, and now they were trapped down here, prisoners of the castle. That feeling was somewhat relatable. You had been stuck here permanently looping through a state of running and hiding, without time to truly process what you were seeing and feeling before the next terrible thing happened. Was this to be your fate as well? It was all too much. Everything was just too much. You just wanted it to stop.
“I decided to keep you upstairs, don’t make me regret it. I will not tolerate disobedience in my household.”
When The Lord turned to leave, he expected you to follow behind him. It was clear he had no more business being down here, and after witnessing that, he guessed you would never wish to visit to cellar again. But confusion soon found him when he saw you stuck in place. Oh dear, he had scared the poor thing half to death. How cruel of him.
He couldn’t just leave you down here. Sooner or later, one of the Moroaica would undo the latch, and then he would have to deal with the mess. More importantly, he would have to deal with the loss of his guest. They were truly a ruthless bunch, always causing trouble. One second they were docile, the next they were running rampant in the cellar, knocking over his work and fighting each other. The servants were too afraid to set foot down here, fearing that one day they would be in the same position. They chose to feign ignorance over the whole ordeal, deciding it was better kept out of sight and out of mind.
He let out a breath. If you wouldn’t move, he would have to move you. Against his better judgement, he picked you up. In one arm he carried your dishevelled form back up the stairs and into your room, sitting you down on the bed. Who knew keeping new company would be so troublesome? Then again, he supposed he hadn’t been the most gracious of hosts, and maybe he had lost his temper over a trivial matter. Maybe he should do something to make it up to you. Thinking it better to leave you be, he said his farewells and left you alone to process what you had witnessed.
You weren’t sure how long you laid in bed. All sense of time seemed to disappear. Your head stayed perpetually focused on the ceiling, staying fixed into the plush pillow. Throughout the night, your mind had been plagued with the images you saw the day before. All those creatures locked up in cages, previously human, but transformed into something horrific. No matter how hard you shook your head, desperately trying to shake the images, they remained. A permanent warming that could subject you to the same fate.
A deep sigh escaped your lips. The fact was, you hadn’t done anything too irredeemable to land you in that situation, so there was no need getting so worked up about it. Getting stressed out over fake scenarios helps no one, and only causes trouble for yourself. You gently slapped your cheeks, urging yourself to forget. Deciding you needed a good stretch, you drew back the curtains of your bed, and were surprised to find the sky was a lighter shade of blue. Was it morning already? The heavy clouds surrounding the castle were stubborn, only letting the bare minimum of sunlight through, even the summers here must be bleak.
Gingerly you opened your door, peeking your eye through the opening. Once it was confirmed no one was there, you poked your head through and looked down. There on the floor was a silver tray decorated with a small meal. Two slices of buttered toast on one side, a tiny bowl of fruit and a glass of water on the other. There was also a handwritten note folded in half and tied with a red ribbon. You eyed the contents suspiciously. You knew there was nothing wrong with the food, it had already been made clear that the Lord did not intend to kill you. And you were well aware what would happen if this food went to waste. But your own moral compass began to flicker. After your outburst yesterday, declaring to starve, were you so ready to give in?
Nevertheless, you stooped down and slowly dragged the tray back into your room. Pushing the food to the side, you unravelled the letter and began to read it. It was an apology. But it was so basic and unspecified it was hard to know what they were apologising for. It had been sighed by all three brothers, but only Daniels signature felt sincere. You could only assume he had persuaded them to sign it as well, thinking it would win you over. You wondered if he also asked his father to sigh it, but if he did, it appeared his attempts were in vain. It was a sweet gesture, but not nearly enough to ease your nerves.
Your attention turned to the food. It had been severely toned down from the feast, not nearly as grand. Though you supposed that was better, considering now you could actually distinguish what you were eating. Nothing here could be disguised as human, and you doubted they would play the same trick twice. Your stomach started to twist inside your body, begging for sustenance. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t starve. Tearing off a chunk of toast, you began eating, guilt overwhelming you with every bite. You looked down at the tray again, only a small portion was missing. That was all you could stomach. Not nearly enough to stratify your hunger, but enough to make it look like you made an effort. You put aside the food for now, maybe later, when you were feeling better, you would be able to finish it.
You checked the hallway again, and when all seemed safe, emerged from your room. Walking down the hall, you were quick to notice that you were the only being in sight. The castle seemed surprisingly empty. You hadn’t heard anything since you got up. And, strangely enough, no one had bothered you yet. No love letters snuck under the door, no invitations to breakfast. Just a tray of food. It was strange how a few moments of silence could feel so abnormally quiet. Maybe they finally got the hint that you would preferer to be left alone. Good, you thought, now you wouldn’t have to deal with their pestering’s. They were probably off somewhere scheming the next terrible thing for you to endure.
You stopped in your tracts, scoffing. Come off it now. So, you got some attention from some depraved lunatics and suddenly think the world revolves around you. They have other things to attend to, you know. As you were wandering aimlessly, you couldn’t help but notice a certain sound. There seemed to be a commotion coming from the entrance hall. Not wanting to be left out, you slowly approached the end of the hallway and peered around. Here, you found yourself faced with a curious scene.
All residents of house Dimitrescu were gathered by the door. Belmont held out a coat for his father, which he took graciously. Cassandros and Daniel gathered around him, continuously fretting over his appearance. The Lord could do nothing but be smothered in his sons adoration, thanking them individually for their concern. They ambushed him with questions, how long would he be out for? What was the reason for his sudden departure? Could he bring them anything back from the village? Dimitrescu laughed, and for the first time, it sounded genuine. There wasn’t any mocking or ill-intent to his smile, he looked upon his sons with such pride it honestly shocked you a little. It seemed he was the most happy when he was with his sons. It was heart-warming, in a way, how they managed to maintain a healthy relationship with each other amidst all the killing.
You rubbed your eyes, half convinced you were dreaming. They almost looked like a real family. It was something you didn’t want to address, the fact that at one point, they were human as well. They had previous lives, presumably less bloodthirsty ones, and they all ended up here together. Dimitrescu was quick to notice your stare, the confusion on your face was obvious. Not wanting to leave you in the dark, and because he was feeling generous, the Lord explained. “I have a meeting with Father Mirus,” He then sighed, taking an exasperated breath as he continued. “And, with the other four lords of the village.” He almost seemed dismissive of that fact, treating it like a burden instead of pride.
You had only heard little snippets of the other Lords. Some of the villagers you had talked to were kind enough to share their tale. There was Dimitrescu, one that you had already been well acquainted with. There was the dollmaker of house Beneviento, said to live by a grand waterfall. They talked about the dollmaker in saddened tones, but warned to take heed when approaching the residence. The next seemed to be the most mysterious of the lords. They were aware that someone of the Moreau line was in charge of the reservoir, but the appearance of them was a mystery. Strangely enough it was also told that they held a small clinic for sick patients. Heisenberg was last, a great inventor that was said to have taken great strides in technical innovation, though the details of that where spared.
And then there was one that was above them all. A being that surpassed them in not only rank but fame. Shrines were set up around the village, celebrating the great wealth this aforementioned being brought. Tales were spun about his power, the people worshipped him like a god, taking care of the village for almost a century, it was hard to image such a person even existed. But the village had a funny way of proving you wrong.
The sons stepped away from the door, retreating further into the entrance hall. Large wooden doors opened, letting in a valiant gust of wind in it’s wake. A chariot awaited him outside. This one far superior to the one you had been carted away in. For starters, it was pure white, elegant and regal, large enough to accommodate for the Lords size. The carriage obstructed your view of the coachman, but you could see two shire horses standing in front. Before he left, the Lord bid his sons goodbye, each giving them an individual task for the day. “I have faith you’ll all take good care of our guest.” With that last remark, he climbed into the carriage. The coachman took note, rearing the reigns and leading the horses forward towards the village.
The sons all stared longingly at the door, even after the Lord had left. He was only going into town, yet it was being treated like a long winded expedition. You were sure he wouldn’t be gone for too long, a few hours at most, yet the expressions they held were almost comical. Were they like this every time the Lord had an errand to attend to? You rolled your eyes. Surely they weren’t so dependant on their father that they couldn’t function without him. You paused, suddenly noticing something you didn’t before. There was a portrait on the wall depicting three young men. It looked authentic, maybe dating back to the 19th century. But what peeked your interest the most was the golden plaque underneath it. Engrained in the metal were three names you were already well acquainted with.
Cassandros appeared abruptly, slipping his arm around yours and pulling you away. “It’s my turn to entertain our guest.” He declared to his brothers. The sad expressions they previously held were no where to be found. In an instant they had gone from mourning the temporary loss of their father, to being excited and manic as ever. It was like Dimitrescu never even left. “Don’t I get a say in this?” You demanded, snatching your arm back.
“That’s cute,” He chuckled. “You still think you have a choice.”
Before you could open your mouth to protest, Cassandros had already dispersed into a flurry of flies and surrounded you. It didn’t matter how many you swatted away, they were already upon you, tugging at you and ushering you in a new direction. You were moving so fast, almost flying through the castle yourself, it was difficult to stay on your feet. Several times you tripped over, but every time part of the swarm would rebalance you, keeping you afloat. You made a mental note to look for a fly swatter next time you went into the village- If you even got the chance to. It seemed to be a reoccurring theme in the castle, all residents thinking you had completely lost the use of your legs, taking it upon themselves to personally escort you everywhere.
You arrived in an area of the castle you hadn’t seen before, you didn’t know such a place existed. It was a grand conservatory, big enough to shelter an entire field. The glass arched high above your head, where various plants hung from the ceiling. There were marble pillars spaced out, holding up the entire structure with delicate ease. Pipes escalating around the edges to keep the room warm, a juxtaposition to the weather outside. Stone pathways were crafted, decorated with flora and fauna on either side. With the way the plants curved inward, it felt like you were walking through an small forest. The entire room held a wonderous floral smell. You began inhaling deeply, taking in all the different flowers. In comparison to the cellar, this was paradise.
You almost started gagging. Among the pleasant smell of the flowers was one that overpowered them all. The smell was horrendous. A grotesque mix of something rotten and something else that had been left in the sun for too long. It was extremely out of place in a scenery like this. You covered your nose and looked for the source of the smell. It was a pile of rotten meat, a mixture of flesh and bone. There was no indication how long it had been left there, festering away on near the window. “Why is that there?” You asked.
“It’s to help me catch something.” Cassandros responded.
“What on earth are you trying to catch, a disease?”
He chuckled, amused by your joke. When you weren’t cowering in fear or running, you were actually pretty funny, who knew? There was a sense of humour hiding beneath. A large butterfly, about the size of your palm, fluttered into view. It cascaded down from the fabricated sky and landed atop the pile. It’s wings had a purple tint to them, coated in white spots. The insect walked along the meat, taking an interest in it, before finally deciding to take miniscule bites. It seemed satisfied with the offering, favouring to stay there a little longer in peace.
Cassandros, however, had other plans. He leaped up, bursting into a flurry of flies as he dashed over, quickly slamming a glass jar down onto the surface, trapping the butterfly within. Some of the meat was also caught in the jar, staining the lid a dark red. Parading his new catch around like a toy, he joyfully walked back over to you and held the jar out proudly, relishing in his achievement. “A Purple Emperor, it’s quite rare.” Bringing the jar up to his face, Cassandros stared at the insect with deluded delight. “I’m so happy.” He sang out. “I’ve had my eye on this one for ages. It’s so violent, always attacking the others, and has terrible table manners. Isn’t he just to die for?”
Terrible table manners, he says. Reminds you of someone else who fits that description, and he’s standing right in front of you. You nodded along silently, pretending to understand or care for whatever he was on about. A butterfly who feasted on dead meat? Now that was news to you. Like most butterflies, you would expect them to eat nectar, or any kind of plant matter like tree sap. But not this one, apparently. This one was different indeed. It made sense, really. A bug like that is just as beastly as the rest of the residents.
The butterfly, not as ecstatic as his captor about being part of the family, started batting itself against the glass cage. Apparently it had decided that death would be a much kinder fate than whatever Cas had in store. It was desperate to escape. You shuddered, feeling sorry for the poor thing. Whatever creature entered was fated with cruel punishment, no matter how small. And to make matters worse, it had landed itself with the most sadistic of the bunch. “I can’t help myself, it’s just so easy, and there’s so many to collect, it’s almost like a game. No matter how big or small the animal is, it’s my pleasure to hunt them down. They make wonderful trophies, my room is full of them. I’ll show you.”
You didn’t need to see, your imagination already filling in the gaps for you. He was no where near as distinguished as the Lord, and his room would surely reflected that. It would be a hunters playground in there. You could see it. Animal heads mounted on the wall, a collection of weapons and other murderous utensils, you wouldn’t put it past him to own a bear skin rug, and not the faux fur kind. God forbid there be any people in there as well, strung up as his so-called 'prizes’.
“No thank you,” You said curtly. “If it’s anything like the cellar, I think I’ll pass.” Cassandros gave you a surprised look. Now that was something he wouldn’t usually hear. “Oh, he took you down there?” He drew closer, suddenly becoming incredibly invested in your conversation. The jar swung lazily in his hand, having taken a backseat in his mind. “Father doesn’t let just anyone take a peek at the experiments. Interesting, very interesting. Maybe you are special.” He grinned.
“I look forward to what father has in store for you.”