Chapter Text
It had rained earlier that morning, which made this situation much more difficult to navigate. The dirt below your feet had turned muddy and slippery.
“Fuck,” You whisper to no one in particular as you run through the dark forest on the outskirts of your former village. You doubt they’d ever allow you back. Taking a look behind you, you see all of the men from the village chasing after you with their torches and a variety of weapons.
Yeah, there’d be no welcome wagon.
So, you keep running as fast as your legs can manage, but you know they’re catching up. Their curses and angry shouts are getting louder and clearer and you can see your own shadow growing bigger as their torches get closer. You can barely breathe. Your lungs are burning and your legs are exhausted. They’ve been chasing for over ten minutes, ever since they barged into your small home and tried to kill you while you slept.
You can’t keep this up and, well, they’ll kill you no matter what you do. You clear your mind and allow your magic to take over. Your body cracks and condenses until you’re a small black kitten. You’re so tiny that you can hide under the leaves littering the forest floor and your fur is as dark as the nightfall, which makes you difficult to spot. It’s perfect.
You learned you could shape-shift when you were a toddler, but you’ve only figured out how to turn into a cat, dog, and your deceased mother. You think it has to do with your love for them all, that love strengthens your abilities, but you’re never sure. Your single mother had no knowledge of magic and your father was never a part of your life. You assume the abilities came from his side of the family, which made learning about and controlling it quite hard. Luckily, your abilities are good enough to save you at this moment.
The men gasped when you disappeared and had screeched to a halt. You tiptoe your way to the side, hiding behind a tree, and hope that they keep moving forward so you can double back, pack your belongings, and leave the only home you’ve ever known.
“She’s a witch!” One of the men fearfully shouts. You’re definitely not a witch. At least you don’t think so. You’ve never been able to perform any magic except for shapeshifting.
You peer around the tree and see Florin Balan, the local butcher, sneer at the rest of the men. “She’s a weak, young bitch. If it’ll give you some motivation, whoever finds her can take the first round with her.”
He chuckles, dark and dirty, and you shiver. You can’t let them catch you. You decide to make a run for it. There isn’t much time left before your magic depletes. The swish of leaves as you run scares the pursuers and some start shooting aimless bullets at the ground. One almost nicks you as it lodges into the dirt and sends a spray of weeds and insects flying at you. You yelp internally and cringe at how you’re actually meowing out loud.
They hear it and start panicking even more. It would be comical if the situation wasn’t life-threatening and the adrenaline wasn’t coursing through you. Instead, you run as fast as your little legs can take you and you breathe a sigh of relief when you notice their yells getting more distant.
“Maybe I can loop back and get to town before they give up,” You think to yourself. You doubt you’d make the trip back as a kitten. The longest you’ve stayed in an alternate form was half an hour, and you’d have to traverse a wide expanse of forest just to avoid them. If you turned into a human in town, they’d kill you on the spot.
You shake your head and wonder if you could camp out instead. It’s the colder months in the area and you’re not sure your human form would survive. If hypothermia didn’t kill you, the lycans or animals would. After depleting your magic, you won’t be able to shift again for at least an hour. You could deal with the cold for short spurts, but the night would be grueling.
It’s then that you see a clearing. You sprint to it and you freeze when you see Castle Dimitrescu up close. Had you run that far? The castle was half a mile from town and usually surrounded by traps. You’ve only heard rumors about the beings that lived in that castle and, if true, it was the last place you’d seek shelter. To the left, there’s a small alcove. It’s just a curved hole on the side of a gigantic boulder. It’ll have to do.
You transform back into your body and groan at the ticks of pain you feel as your bones reshape and pop into place. It’s never been pleasant, but you’ve taught yourself how to lower the pain scale from excruciating to tolerable.
You have to be on all fours to fit inside the alcove, but it shelters you from the dewy air and the wind blowing in from the south. You’re pretty obscured in the darkness and think your chances of being found by those men are low. You left them a few minutes behind. The odds that they even risk getting this close to Castle Dimitrescu were slim to none. They feared the inhabitants too much.
You pull down some branches from the tree next to it until they snap and cover the alcove entrance. In the back of your mind, deep down, you know you should stay awake and alert, but you’re so tired and your eyes start to slip.
You wake up to a piercing scream and bolt up into a seated position. You’re still groggy, but the first thing you notice is that you’re definitely not in the alcove. You’re… in a jail cell? Panic starts to sink in as you rub your eyes and get a better look at wherever you’re being held.
It’s dark, so you can’t see far, but there’s exposed brick and chains hanging down from the ceiling. You see some kind of torture device and a wooden slab table with meat on it. The smell is horrid, you realize. It’s a putrid, acrid smell that you only experienced once before when you found Doctor Albu’s body right in front of the gate leading to Lady Beneviento’s home. He had been attacked by lycans. The smell was his decomposition.
You gag before trying to cover your mouth with your gown sleeve. It doesn’t help much and you can’t stop staring at the meat on the table that you now suspect is human remains. If it was human, the person had been butchered expertly, as if they were going to be served with wine and vegetables for dinner. Nausea burns your throat and saliva is gathering in your mouth. You clamp your lips shut. The cell is tiny. If you vomit, you’ll be contending with the scent of decomposition and bile.
You try to focus on gathering more information instead. You’re still in your nightgown from the night before. Granted, it’s filthy and covered in mud, like you’d been dragged out of the alcove and across the forest floor to the castle. You shake your head. How did you not wake up when it was happening?
You move to stand up and quickly notice your shoes are missing and you were sitting on a wet concrete floor. You’re hoping it’s water you were sitting on and not some kind of body fluid. The cell bars are rusted and that isn’t surprising considering how damp the air is. Peering through the metal bars, you see wine barrels, which is such a contrast to the rest of the horror you’re witnessing. Until you spot a hand sticking out of it.
Your lungs seize and it’s hard to suck in a breath. Anxiety takes over you, but you can’t scream. Logically, you know you can’t give away that you’re awake. You’ll lose precious time to devise a way out.
That’s when you remember that you woke up to someone screaming. There’s no one alive in your line of sight though. Maybe it drifted down from upstairs or more people are being held captive deeper in the dungeon. It doesn’t matter. You have to escape. You can’t become another ghost story the villagers tell when warning children of Castle Dimitrescu, which is where you assume you are. It’s the only logical answer. If you’re right, then you have to be tactful and smart to get out.
Your magic flows throughout your body and you growl as your figure starts to collapse inwards. Bones crack sickeningly and sinew stretches painfully until you’re back in your kitten form. It almost feels stupid to turn into something so small and innocent in such a horrible place.
Quickly, you hop through the cell bars and check your surroundings for an exit. To your left is a hallway lined with more cells, perhaps where you heard the scream come from earlier. To your right, several corpses are hanging from hooks and you take a step back. Some of the bodies are torn apart at the waist, missing their legs and bleeding all over the floor, while some are whole with milky eyes wide open and staring at you. Behind them is a dead end. You’re not sure if you feel relief that you don’t have to go near the corpses or dread that you have to traverse further into the dungeon.
With the wine barrels blocking any path in front of you, the hallway to the left is the only choice. You run down the hall and try to ignore the soft groaning you hear from inside the cells. You can’t handle much more of this. At the end of the hallway, there are two more leading left and right, but there’s no indication of what’s at the ends or where they may lead. This dungeon was built like a maze and you’re sure that’s intentional. Confused prey are vulnerable prey.
Before you can even weigh your options, you’re being lifted by the skin of your neck and held in front of three women with dangerous, crimson grins and sickles dripping with blood. Their black, flowing dresses are identical. They giggle maniacally and take turns sniffing you.
“It’s a cat,” the blonde states excitedly. She’s the one holding you. Her glowing amber eyes widen with joy.
The redhead groans and shows her teeth, “Let’s play with it.”
You just somehow know she doesn’t mean laser pointers and a scratching post.
The brunette nods and lifts her bloodied sickle, but the blonde shoves them away violently and cradles you in her arms. “We should show mother! She loves kittens!”
The other two sneer at the blonde. The redhead takes a step forward, baring her teeth. “Bela, don’t be such a suck-up! Mother doesn’t have to know!”
The brunette takes a swing at the woman holding you, whose name you now know is Bela, and manages to slice her arm. You yelp as her blood wets your paws. The blonde lifts her own sickle and takes a swipe at the brunette in retaliation. She hits her face and the slash is brutal. Her blood splashes onto the brick wall and the wound oozes blood down her cheek and neck. The redhead laughs, utterly deranged.
Before the situation can escalate any further, the woman holding you practically floats out of the dungeon and takes you up several flights of stairs. The castle is beautiful. It’s ornately decorated in dark brown wood, red tapestry, and white vases with gold trims. It screams elegance and wealth, something you’ve never had.
Bela passes a window and you notice it is night still. Did you sleep the whole day? They must’ve drugged you. That’s why you didn’t wake up when they dragged you here.
As she walks, you begin to realize that your predicament has gotten quite unfortunate. You have about twenty minutes before you’re thrust back into your human form and this woman is leading you to her mother.
You should’ve just double backed to the village the night before and taken your chances with the angry mob.
You could jump from her arms and try to escape now, but you’re several floors away from the entrance or any sensible way out. These women weren’t human. They feasted on blood and flesh, could slash each other with sickles and be just fine, and they floated instead of walked. You doubt you’d be able to get away. Your attention lands on the deep cut on her arm when you see skin, muscle, and sinew melding back other. Flies buzz around you and you lean away.
The movement makes her smile down at you. “Hi, kitty. Don’t you worry. Mother’s going to love you.”
Wonderful. Their “mother” must be the infamous lady of the castle and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Lady Dimitrescu was a haunting figure in the village. Everyone refrained from using her name as if it would summon her. And you were about to come face-to-face with her. Suddenly, nausea returned with brute force.
Bela reaches a large door and looks you over. Quickly, she uses the sleeve of her dress to wipe your blood-soaked paws. “We wouldn’t want mother knowing about our roughhousing, would we?”
It’s said in an innocent, warm tone and you hate it. While she saved you from the other women, she is by no means good. Her sickle was just as bloody as the others’ when she had picked you up in the dungeon. They had been torturing people in the cells. That’s what you woke up to. These women are all monsters.
Bela cautiously knocks on the door and waits until a deep, husky voice instructs her to enter. The bedroom is just as opulent as the rest of the castle, but you’re not able to analyze it any further because you see her.
Lady Dimitrescu is… ethereally beautiful. Her skin is pale, almost a blueish white, and she’s wearing a tight white dress that cinches at the waist. You’re sure there’s a corset underneath because her bosom is pushed up and you gulp at the amount of cleavage on display. Her hair is as dark as night and curled around her jawline. There’s a large black hat next to her on the vanity seat, but you think you like seeing her like this.
God, you’re so done for.
“What is it now, Bela?” The lady doesn’t turn away from the mirror and her tone is dripping in exasperation. You idly wonder if Bela and the other two women have incurred her wrath today. Perhaps that’s why Bela was so eager to stay on her mothers’ good side and fought the other two for you.
“Mother, we found this in the cellar.” Bela grabs you by the skin of your neck again and extends you toward her mother. You’re hanging there, terrified of what’s going to happen, and your tiny back legs flail.
Lady Dimitrescu glances at you through the mirror and her crimson lips drop open in surprise. Up close, she’s just as beautiful as you thought. Her glowing yellow eyes turn to you and you involuntarily let out a meow.
“Oh, my,” She whispers before reaching out with her hand. Bela drops you onto her palm and that’s when you realize just how monstrously large the lady must be. You’re small, yes, but you could easily run laps in her palm while you fit snuggly in Bela’s. “How did such a creature find its way into my cellar? Quite odd.”
Lady Dimitrescu places you on her vanity and smiles. You stretch out against the cold marble and accidentally kick one of her lipsticks, sending it rolling. The lady catches it before it slides completely off the edge and laughs. For some reason, you have a feeling it’s not something she does often. You can imagine her laughing condescendingly or maniacally at prey, but this light, carefree laughter is rare. It’s confirmed when her daughter stares at her with a mixture of shock and jealousy.
Lady Dimitrescu is too busy running her gloved finger over your fur to notice, but she pauses after a few moments of continued silence. “Was there anything else, Bela?”
“No, that was all, mother.” Bela looks utterly despondent, but doesn’t say anything else and walks out of the room without another word. For some reason, you feel safer just being with Lady Dimitrescu, even though you know she’s a monster too.
She returns to her light petting of your back and it feels oddly pleasurable. Your mother loved to cradle you when you were in this form, but you’ve never been touched by anyone else as anything but your true form. Your mother feared for your life and tried to hide you and your abilities from the rest of the village. Now you know she was right to do so.
You lay down on your side and stretch your legs out. Lady Dimitrescu smiles warmly and runs her sharp nails over your exposed belly. Your paws kick outward when she scratches a particular spot and you let out a meow of satisfaction. The woman sighs as she continues her ministrations and you notice that she looks happy to have you there but also quite unsettled about something. She smiles at you, but her eyes are troubled.
That won’t do. You reach out and grip her pointer finger with your two paws. She chuckles softly. You’re thinking of other things you can do when your body weakens all of a sudden. Your magic is depleting.
Right there on her vanity, you slowly morph back into your human form. As you grow and shift, Lady Dimitrescu gasps and shoots away from you, sending her seat and hat skidding across the floor. Your skin stretches and you cry out in pain for several seconds before it all snaps into place.
You’re sitting on her vanity with your back against the mirror. Lady Dimitrescu looks like a statue, horrified and shocked by what she saw. Like an idiot, you shyly wave at her and whisper, “Hi.”
Lady Dimitrescu flicks her hand and suddenly there are razor-like claws where those soft fingers that pet you used to be. You yelp when she takes a swing and duck right in time to keep your head on your shoulders. The mirror shatters behind you and glass embeds on your backside and thighs when she shoves you back.
She takes another swing and this time you drop to the floor and crawl between her legs, almost tripping her in the process. You start running toward the bedroom door, but she’s got you by the back of the nightgown and she chucks your body across the room like you weigh nothing at all. You land painfully on your back, making the glass rip even more of your skin open, and the wind is knocked out of you, but you can’t stop moving because she’s already walking toward you with purpose.
The only way out is the balcony. You throw the door open and make it a few feet before her hand grips the back of your neck and lifts you into the air. Your feet dangle helplessly and you can barely breathe. She’s squeezing your neck so hard that you see stars.
“Thought you’d get away, little mouse?” Lady Dimitrescu laughs behind you and, yeah, this is the kind of laugh you know she belts out often. It’s dark and lacking any humor. She’s going to kill you. “Or should I call you kitten?”
You gasp for air when she takes a moment to wrap her other hand around the front of your throat and spin you around to face her. She’s smiling dangerously. Her hands smash your body against the marble railing of the balcony and you can already feel bruises forming. Your upper body is hanging over the railing and you whimper. Her hands on your neck are the only thing keeping you from plummeting to your death. They’re also the things slowly choking the life out of you.
“So the villagers have mutated allies now, hm?” She growls, loud and ferocious. “What was the plan, kitten? To kill me in my sleep?”
“No—“ You manage to choke out. She squeezes even harder on your windpipe. You can’t breathe at all. Your legs start kicking at her thighs, which is stupid because if she drops you, you’re certainly dead.
Suddenly, you’re thrown into the glass window next to the balcony door and land in a heap on the marble balcony floor. You gasp over and over, trying to get some air in your lungs. Your neck burns so intensely. Her shadow looms over you and it’s terrifying. Your hands are shaking and you can’t make yourself look up at her.
“I’m not working with the villagers!” You exhale all of the words in one quick breath. Her hands are on your shoulder, gripping your dress, and you just know she’s going to throw you again. This time might be off the balcony and to your death. “I was running from them! They were trying to kill me! Please, don’t!”
The words are jumbled due to your fear, but her hand unfurls from your nightgown. You look up at her now. She’s still furious. Her eyebrows and nose are scrunched, her lips are pursed, and her eyes are blazing with fury. You’re afraid she’s still thinking about murdering you so you keep explaining, “I’m a shapeshifter, obviously, and they found out today and they chased me into the forest! I didn’t even want to be in the castle! I just woke up here! I just want to pack up my things from my home and leave this place! I promise I won’t tell anyone anything I saw here!”
Lady Dimitrescu keeps staring. She’s looking into your eyes like she’s searching for something and you don’t dare look or move away. Her hand grips your nightgown again and you whimper pathetically, but instead of plummeting to your death, you find yourself being carried inside. She’s holding you like you’re her bride. Your face is pressed against her cleavage and you try not to blush. They’re quite comfortable.
She lays you on her bed gently. The glass is still embedded in your back, thighs and butt and it hurts beyond comprehension. You can see your blood all over the floor and your nightgown. You worry about staining her sheets, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Take off your clothes.” She barks it out like an order and you’ve pushed your luck enough tonight, so you whip off your nightgown and self-consciously cover your breasts. You always sleep without a bra but at least you slipped on some panties after touching yourself the night before. It’s embarrassing how small and weak you look just sitting in her bed almost completely nude and covered in bruises and blood. You shiver at both the cold air in the room and the knowledge that you almost died a minute ago.
Lady Dimitrescu disappears into an adjacent room then returns with tweezers, disinfectant, bandages, and bandaids. You want to protest and tell her you can do it yourself, but you realistically can’t. Most of the injuries are out of reach and you’d have to use a mirror to even try to help yourself.
“Turn over,” She says as she throws your body over so you’re laying on your front. You’re not sure why she bothered to command you when she planned to manhandle you anyway.
The room is tense and silent as she picks glass out of your wounds. You’re not sure why she cares that you’re hurt or why you’re still alive, but you’re not stupid enough to ask.
You wince when she picks a larger piece out of your back. It burns so painfully that you bite down on the thick blanket beneath you. She’s going to have to send it to wash anyway because of your blood. Even through the pain, you manage to feel something else when her gloved hands touch you. She’s a beautiful woman, albeit terrifying and murderous, and it’s been a long time since you’ve had the pleasure of being touched by one.
She takes her time disinfecting and tries to be gentle, but there’s nothing that can lessen the pain. It’s also ironic that she’s trying to be gentle after causing all of this. Afterward, she grabs your hips and lifts you onto your knees to apply the gauze around your stomach and upper thighs. All you can do is blush at the realization that you’re ass up in her bed and she can see your pussy. You’ve been in this exact position before when you were secretly dating the daughter of the town florist, but you weren’t getting first aid. It’s the worst time to think about your sexual experiences because you feel yourself getting wet.
Lady Dimitrescu pauses slightly and you just know she’s taken notice. You smush your face into her blanket and pray this special brand of torture will end soon.
When you’re all bandaged, she leaves you on the bed to pick up the seat and hat that had been discarded on the floor earlier and place them back where they belong. You stay on your stomach, but let your hips touch the bed again. It’s easier to hide most of your private areas this way. She doesn’t command you to do otherwise and instead takes a velvet stool from the corner of the room and places it right at the edge of the bed by your head.
She looks calmer now. You can’t imagine what she might be thinking. Then, “You’re going to tell me everything you know about that village and what they’re planning, and if you prove useful, perhaps I won’t finish what I started before the end of the night.”