Lord Dimitrescu and reader.
A/n: So after seeing some amazing gender swapped art of our favourite tall vampire lady, I thought it was high time that someone write something. So here it is! Although I do believe the sons needs some attention too so they’re here as well. Enjoy!
Warnings: These are bad people doing bad things, there’s bound to be a little violence.
Words: 4539
The storm bellowed outside of the castle. Rain and wind acting in unison as they battered against the stone walls, threatening with every gust to breach the fortress, while a hauntingly beautiful atmosphere surrounded the residents with evil intent. The storm had only picked up pace since it started and showed no signs of letting up. Anyone unlucky enough to be caught in that death trap would surely not survive.
Luckily for you, you were inside.
Inside may have been an understatement. Yes, you were in fact inside. Inside a lavished castle on top of a hill. Inside a snug room surrounded by ornate furniture. Safe from the savage storm outside. But dear reader, I have neglected to mention, that you were also inside an overly expensive wardrobe, and had bigger things to worry about than a measly storm.
How did you even get here in the first place? Well, that was a story in itself. But I’ll give you a run down. The village was scared. They were terrified of the monstrous creatures that lived in the looming castle above them, casting an ever lasting shadow over the commoners below. It worked as a reminder of sorts, to keep the villagers in their place.
There was a system. Every month one of the servants from the castle would come down to the village and select a few of the villagers to take with them. Whenever the damned bell would toll, it would signify another purge would start. People would flock to the nearest shelter they could find and pray to whatever god they could to not be taken. The villagers would do whatever they could, throwing others out on the street to secure their place, and creating underground shelters to avoid being caught. They never worked though, not when the servants could sniff them out.
Some viewed it as a blessing to be spared, others saw it as a never ending curse.
There was no god here. Only demons who knew how to take. The number of people who disappeared always varied, but they always took enough. They took sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, anyone they could get their charred hands on. The village was viewed as nothing more than a slaughter house in the eyes of the great lords.
But I digress. This story isn’t about them.
The reason why you were huddled up in a wardrobe was due to the fact you were being chased throughout the castle. You had been one of the unlucky few who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then placed into the kart with the rest of them. There must have been around fifteen of you squished into a shabby carriage and escorted inside the castle grounds.
Three vampires males, all dressed in black hooded robes, gathered the stolen villagers in the main foyer. It was difficult not to notice the way their eyes lingered on their helpless prey for longer than considered comfortable, nor was it easy to dismiss the manic aura radiating off them. It was like poison, their beast like hunger that rooted deep a feeling of dread within your chest.
Here they told you that they wanted to play a game. Hide and Seek, to be exact. The rules were simple. All participants would have free rein to explore the castle, hiding wherever they wish, and were allowed to change hiding places once the game began. The only rule was not to get caught. They never told you what the punishment was for being discovered, but if the bloodstained robes and the way they had licked their lips at you were any indication, you could take an educated guess.
Truth be told, it was difficult to process the situation. Everything was so overwhelming, it was hard to keep track. Not to mention the lavished cage disguised as a castle that surrounded you. It looked like a dream, something constructed out of the fantasy of a deranged king, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded with lavished décor and an overwhelming sense of wealth. Every inch of the room was either outlined with gold or meticulously carved from wood, with tall candles illuminating the room, and an elaborate chandelier lurking above. Half of an imperial staircase lined one of walls, creating the path that separated the two floors. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander.
The blonde one stepped forward, causing you to turn your attention back to the three vampires before you. They had been talking this entire time, but you had been too preoccupied with sightseeing to even notice. Tuning back into the conversation, you appeared to have missed the entirety of it as the man only had one word left.
“Begin.”
Everyone scattered. It was sheer chaos. People were scrambling over each other to get away. Neighbours were shoving each other over, family was betraying family. No one wanted to stay in the foyer. Not with them. You were not free from this display of desperation, having being forcibly pushed into the stair banister as people clambered their way to the upper floor, down the hall, and in any room they could find.
So, here you were. After witnessing countless villagers getting slaughtered and having way too many close calls with a sickle, deciding to take refuge instead. Everything in this room seemed to be twice your size. From the massive dresser on the far side of the room, to the stretched out ceiling that towered above you, it was impossible not to feel small within this environment. Especially when you were hiding like a child escaping punishment.
You couldn’t stay in the wardrobe forever. Sooner or later, one of the sons would find you. They were awful creatures, it would be too much of a strain to call them just vampires. Too murderous and cruel for their own good. You grimaced as you recalled being chased through the castle swatting away and fighting those pesky flies. The way they scratched and pulled at your skin felt like hot fire, it left behind scars as well.
The dark haired son was the one you dreaded the most. He was completely insane, off the fucking rails. The first time you met him he was dislocating his weapon from a poor villagers leg while laughing maniacally. The image had been permanently burned into your memory. As well as the sound of flesh tearing as the son began slashing and ripping into the persons stomach, their last words calling out to you to save them. Yet all you could so was stand there in mortified shock. Too terrified to even muster a single word. Your fingers twitched at your sides, begging desperately for you to move. If you wanted to survive in this godforsaken place, you needed to move. As you were occupied imitating a deer in headlights, the son had begun admiring the freshly made corpse before him. Too enamoured with his handiwork to notice a weakling like yourself stranded with fear.
He only turned his attention you when he stood up, growing bored of the unmoving plaything, and seeking to quench his uninterest with another. When he saw you, his smile and eyes grew wide, filled with the anticipation of a new toy. "Well, well, little one. Are you lost?“ He took one step forward before stopping, tilting his head to the side. "Oh… I remember you. I was worried one of my brothers had gotten to you first, lucky me.” Then he lunged at you. It was a miracle you were able to escape him at all. Managing to outmanoeuvre him in an area of the castle that was particularly cold and retreating into another room.
But there was something off about the entire ordeal. The Lord, who you had only heard tales of, was no where to be found. For someone who was the talk of the town, he sure knew how to make himself scarce. People in the village described him as a demon, a tyrannical monster who was equally elegant and deadly. It was unknown whether this was true or not, people who were sent to the castle never came back after all, the only information you gained was through rumours. He wasn’t there when the sons announced the sport. He wasn’t part of the game, nor could he be found in any of the rooms. At this point, you would take it as a blessing if you never ran into him at all.
Gingerly you reached your hand, letting the doors creak open. Your head peeked out, surveying the room for any sighs of danger. Nothing of note. Maybe you were expecting something more. Some kind of indication telling you the threat had passed, a sound or any visual clue. The chilling silence greeted your disappointment with underwhelming interest. But nothing had changed. You were still trapped in the same castle, in the same wardrobe, with four deadly creatures.
You jumped. The abrupt sound of the telephone ringing suddenly echoing throughout the room. Your hand clutched your chest, wanting to sooth your quickened heartbeat. You could feel it. The steady thump of the organ threatening to break through your ribcage. Limbs tense with anticipation. It was only the phone. An amused breath escaped your lungs. Of all the things, the call of a telephone was the one to catch you off guard. How mundane.
Your ears pricked up, suddenly becoming aware of another sound. Footsteps. But something was wrong. These were no ordinary footsteps. Much too heavy and insistent to be considered anything well meaning. The way they strode through the hallway with unbridled confidence was nothing short of unnerving.
Scrambling your wits together, you quickly retreated back into the wardrobe, closing the doors tight, and stuck to the back corner. A golden thread of light was your only connection to the outside. You waited with baited breath as the door to the room swung open and welcomed someone in. With the limited view, it was hard to see exactly who entered. An quite honestly, you didn’t know if knowing would be any better. Could it possibly be another survivor looking for shelter?
The fleeting thought was instantly demolished as your vison was taken away. The light that leaked through the door completely disappeared. Leaving you confused and alone in your personalised void. Almost as soon as it happened, the string of light returned to the wardrobe, granting the little vision you had. That was strange. Did something cover it?
In order to solve this mystery, you needed to get a better look. Scooching forward you peered through the opening and into the room. Something did not cover the gap, rather it was someone. It was Lord Dimitrescu. Your entire form froze over, suddenly feeling very unsafe very quickly. You had hoped you would avoid seeing him altogether, but now you were stuck in a room with him. Trying to calm yourself, you watched from the gap in the door as he strode over to the other side of the room where the phone was located. Even with the limited view, there were a few features about him that you could distinguish. The most prominent was the wide brimmed hat he wore, creating an eerie silhouette that captured his mysterious persona perfectly. Between his lips was a thick cigar, and he dressed with an impeccable sense of fashion.
He placed one gloved hand on the phone, pulling it from its base, lounging back on an ornate chair as he finally answered. “Father Mirus, I wasn’t expecting a call so soon," You could only pick up snippets of the conversation. Not only was it hard to hear in this wooden box, but your mind was preoccupied with not trying to freak out and give your position away.
"Yes, I have anticipated the ceremony. Rest assured, everything will be as you wish…”
How long was he going to stay here? The longer he did, the higher the chances you would get caught.
“…When the time comes, me and my sons will be ready.”
In between the conversation he would occasionally smoke, tapping the foot of the cigar on a conveniently placed ash tray. It wasn’t long before the stench made its way over to you. As much as you did swat the smoke away, it did not stop you inhaling it. The fumes continued to assault your airway, leaving a horrid taste on the back of your tongue and stinging your nose. You clasped your hands around your mouth, yet that was not enough to purge the smoke that was already in your system. It made you feel heavy, a tugging at your chest, ushering you to breathe. Loosing control, your body let out a small choke, trying to dislodge the smog caught in your throat.
The phone was put down immediately. The sound of movement filled the room. Footsteps getting closer. He stopped when he reached the door, seemingly hesitating before exiting. There were two outcomes to this. First: He didn’t hear you splutter for air and was blissfully unware of your presence. Or second: He knew. You mentally crossed your fingers, hoping for the first option. Time never seemed so slow as it did in that moment, waiting to give you an answer. You heard the door handle begin to turn. Oh thank god, he was leaving.
Relived, you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and letting your head lean back against the wooden box. For now, you were safe. Maybe, just maybe, you would be able to escape.
That thought, however, was not enough to ease the freezing chill that starting to crawl up your spine. He was about to leave the room, right? Cautiously, you pried one eye open, and peaked through the gap in the door. What you hadn’t expected was to see an eye peering back at you.
Before you could make a sound the doors of the wardrobe flung open with glorious ease, revelling the very person you had hoped to avoid. Standing before you was the notorious Lord Dimitrescu. Intimidating as he was tall, the Lord looked down on you from an impossible height. It didn’t seem possible to feel even smaller than you already did, but this world had it’s ways of surprising you.
“Well,” He brought his right hand up to his mouth, planting a firm grip on the cigar. He inhaled the intoxicating gas, removed the cigar, and blew out a steady stream of the vile vapour directly at you. You squinted your eyes, wincing as the smoke cradled you in it’s noxious embrace. Being trapped in an enclosed space did little to prevent your lungs accidently breathing in the smog. Another choke escaped. He let out a low chuckle, "What do we have here?“
His free hand reached forward, enclosing around your neck, and forcefully pulled you out of the makeshift safe space. It was quite startling how easy it was for him to lift you. He held you at arms length with ease, as if it was nothing. Face to face with the Lord with your legs dangling helplessly in the air. Now that you were up close and personal, you couldn’t help but notice some peculiar aspects about him. He had a aroma about him that teetered between dangerously charming and beautify terrifying. It was difficult to look away.
He took another long drag of his cigar as his eyes wandered up and down your miserable form, examining you with great interest. You had half the mind to kick, or at least display any form of protest, but you also had the other half to know better. Acting out in such a way would surely get you killed. You were a dead man either way, but it would be better to go out with some remaining dignity. You prayed that acting in an acceptable manor would at least grant you a quick death.
"My sons were hungry again, weren’t they?” You couldn’t respond, not with the pressure he was applying around your neck. All you could do was helplessly suspend in the air while trying not to choke to death. "But it seems like one little mouse escaped. How kind they are to hunt for me,“ He pulled you in, brandishing his fangs as they eased closer to your neck. "They are so good to me…"
That was it. You couldn’t just dangle here doing nothing. Fuck dignity. That was already lost when you entered this hellish castle. There was no room for formalities or curtesy, not when you were trying to survive. Without a second thought you began squirming, riving around under his hold, kicking against whatever limb you could reach. Unintelligible cries of protest escaped your strained throat akin to a mouse caught in a trap.
He didn’t even flitch. Rather he raised his brow. Did you really think you would be able to fight back against the likes of him? It was fruitless thought to begin with. Too deluded with the hope to live that you forgot all about the reality that surrounded you. It was harsh and unforgiving. His grip around your neck tightened, causing you to choke out a sob, or at least the closest thing to it, considering he was crushing your throat. Your hands grasped at his, trying to alleviate the pressure, nails denting the leather of his gloves. "Are you really so desperate to live you would act out in such a disgraceful manner?" Something within his crooked mind clicked. He could have some fun with this. It was funny. The illusion of choice. He wasn’t talking to you, he was talking at you. Not even giving you the courtesy of choice for he had already decided. "Here is your chance.”
There was no time to react as you were lifted higher into the air and flung through the unlocked door. Your back hit the wall with such force it practically shook the entire hallway. You gasped for air, suddenly being granted the right to breathe again. But there was no time to catch your breath as he emerged from the doorway and stood before you. That, however, wasn’t the least of your concerns as the sound of insects swarming together filled the halls. Damnit. Now was not the time for a family reunion.
“I trust you are already acquainted with my sons: Belmont, Daniel, and… Well, you already know Cassandros.” The dark haired son appeared from the swarm, greeting you with a deluded smile. All of them were here, gathered in one spot, and all focused on you. Dimitrescu struck his hand out, brandishing four long claws along his glove. He addressed his kin. “Remember what I told you about playing with your food.” There was a pause. Anticipation weighing heavily in the air as the answer stringed you along. "Only let them run as much as their worth.“
That was your cue. Fuelled with the fire to survive, you pulled yourself up and began to run through the castle yet again, ignoring the pain that coursed through your body. You had already fled through these halls, but you were still unfamiliar with the layout. What was even more disturbing was the distinct lack of corpses littering the floor which you saw before. You didn’t have time to even comprehend how they were able to clean up the mess that quickly. Everyone else may be dead, but you would not add to their body count. There was no way you were going to die here.
You found your way to the stairs and leaped down two at a time, clinging to the banister for balance. Now returning to where the game started. You eyed the door fervently. Even if there was only the slightest chance of them being unlocked, you had to take that risk. You ran. Not giving a second thought to the pain or the deafening swam of flies ringing in your ears as they inched closer.
The foyer doors were in sight. They were so close. Lunging forward you reached out your arm, praying to whatever god above that you were close enough to reach the handle. Yet you failed to notice how close your pursuers were. It wasn’t the distance that prevented you from escaping.
The pain was the indication. A sharp sudden sting that drew you back into the monsters grasp and further away from freedom. It felt like fire, a burning sensation that sent your entire being ablaze. Time seemed to freeze, unwilling to give you the opportunity to process what was happening. It was in this moment that you felt something else. Something being pressed against the curve of your spine. A forceful kick shot you forward, dislocating the sickle that had been embedded into your shoulder.
You tried to scream, yell, shriek- anything that would convey the overwhelming pain beginning to fester under your skin. No sooner you opened your mouth did the cacophony of unbridled chuckling fill the air. They were all laughing. Amused at your antics to try and escape them, thinking how cute it was of their brave little prey trying to escape. You really thought you could make it. Maybe if you were a little quicker, lighter on your feet, or even acted just a second faster, you would have grasped freedom.
But you weren’t fast enough. You were never meant to leave this hellish castle. Destined to die in the very placed you prayed to avoid. The lavished floors suddenly lurched towards you as you collapsed on the ground, breathing in short fractions, accepting the foreboding feeling of despair that started to take hold. Like a dark cloud looming over the sky, it had been waiting in the background, yet only now had it the courtesy to make it’s presence known. Because now, when the chances of survival were looking so bleak, it was impossible not to confront.
Instinctively you grabbed onto your shoulder, trying desperately to keep your blood under the skin. It did little to stop the overflow of the warm liquid seeping between your fingers, trailing down your arm, and spilling onto the floor. The voices of your captors surrounded you.
"That was a good try, little prey.”
“Shall we devour them now, father?”
“I’m the one that caught them.”
“Now, now, sons. No need to be so impertinent. This is our guest, after all.” The Lord gave a signal and two of the sons stepped forward, taking an arm each. They hoisted you up to your feet, but you were far too weak to stand, and dropped instantly to your knees. Some pitiful noises quietly erupted as you were forcibly held up. "They survived this long, I think a small reward is in order.“ The Lord was in front of you. He grabbed your face with one hand and tilted your head to the side, exposing the new wound his sons inflicted on you. "But first, let me see what makes this one so special.”
There was no grand build up before the head of house Dimitrescu began sinking his fangs into the already pieced skin. You tried to struggle, but that was an impossible task with him keeping you firmly in place. Every time you moved, his grip on your good shoulder tightened, almost threatening to break it. How awful these creatures were. Subjecting their pray to unnecessary torment just to satisfying their gluttonous need for blood. Even though that had had their fill, they still craved more. There was nothing worse in this world than those who selfishly indulged in their own greed.
You pressed your lips together, trying to withstand the pain. It was hard not to make any sound as the Lord’s fangs pulled at your skin, sucking at the blood that escaped. Feeling his steady breath against your collarbone as he broke free. "You taste…“ His words trailed off. His stare never left your wound, eying it hungrily, almost as if debating with himself to take another bite. In the end he pulled away from you and stood up, wiping the last trails of blood off his lips. His expression was unreadable. Something seemed to be churning in that sick mind of his, but it was impossible to decipher what. After an agonising moment he turned on his heels and began his ascend upstairs, leaving his latest meal and his sons confused on the lower floor. Before any of them could ask what he was doing, he answered. "Patch this one up and take them away.”
One of the sons spoke, “Shall we put them with the rest?” The Lord stopped on the steps and weighed his options. Sure, he could have you held in the basement with all the other corpses, failed experiments, and god know what down there. Or he could keep you preserved. “Take them to the guest bedroom, any one will do.” He continued up the stairs and waved his hand half-heartedly in the air. It didn’t really matter where you went, as long as those beasts didn’t get their grimy hands on you.
The sons exchanged a look. They were confused, rightfully so. It wasn’t everyday that their father gave up a meal, even less so giving them special treatment. If a snack was saved for another time, they would be taken to the basement to be drained out slowly, not pampered and taken care of like some sort of pet. Something was clearly wrong. Were you not good enough for him? Was your blood so terrible that he planned to keep you around as a reminder of how awful you taste? That he would never allow him or his sons to taste you again?
The blonde one, eager to gain the praise of his father, stepped forward. This would just not do! How dare you insult his father with your mediocre blood. Determined to make your blood into the finest wine anyone of the Dimistrescu line has ever tasted, he called out "Father, allow me to take them to the basement, and I will make you the most exquisite wine out of their blood. I will not let this…“ He motioned his hand at you ”…Lowly village folk insult your taste any longer.“
The Lord did not stop, instead he slowed his pace in order to face his son. He chuckled, "How very kind of you, Belmont. But your actions are not needed. We have enough. Help yourself to my private supply, if you really are that hungry.” He turned away, signifying that the conversation had finished.
Belmont, however, was not finished. His father couldn’t just brush his efforts aside like that. Did he not see he was doing this for him? "But, father-“
"You are not permitted to touch them.” His entire demeanour changed. There was a sharpness to his voice that could slice diamonds. With a single sentence, all members in the foyer were rendered speechless. Even the trio of sons were silent. They lowered their heads, looking like children being scorned by a parent. The Lord huffed, annoyed that he had to stop yet again due to his sons questioning. Leaning on the banister, he made his instructions crystal clear.
“This one is mine.”