Chapter Text
“My imbecilic sister refused to hire staff and it’s coming to bite her,” Lady Dimitrescu says before taking a sip of her blood-red wine. You stare at the liquid that sticks to the corners of her mouth and shiver at the knowledge that she’s gulping down someone you knew.
“Lady Beneviento likes to live alone, Mother,” Bela responds as she plucks a grape from the appetizer platter. “I don’t blame her.”
Bela glares at her sisters sitting next to her and the other two women just giggle at her. Lady Dimitrescu smiles warmly at them. You know she loves her girls deeply. Her capacity to love is evident in every single thing she does for them, but she’s still a vicious monster that haunts your nightmares.
You’ve been working here for years, so they trust you around their dinner table and in their chambers, and you hate them. Every friend you’ve made here has ended up in a wine barrel or worse. You’ve heard the moaning and hissing coming from the cellar. You’re not stupid. But you’ve learned a valuable lesson at Castle Dimitrescu. Every woman for herself. You stopped making friends a year into your employment and you don’t protect defectors or wanna-be assassins. If the lady of the castle asks you whether some staff members are plotting against her, you tell her the truth. You think they might’ve made you a monster too.
That’s why you hate them so much. They’ve hardened your heart, made you stone-cold and hopeless, and you’re afraid you’ll never be the woman you once were. They took that from you forcibly.
“You’d be bored without us, Bela.” Cassandra teases, leaning over to poke her sister's cheek affectionately. Bela slaps her hand away and it sends Cassandra and Daniela into a fit of giggles again.
“Now, now, girls. No need to get rattled up before dinner is even served.” Lady Dimitrescu smirks at their antics, which contradicts her scolding tone. Just as the other maids usher in a cart with covered plates, she circles back to the original conversation. “Mother Miranda asks that I send someone over to the Beneviento estate. She must finally understand that I’m superior. I’m always prepared.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Of course, Mother.”
“True, Mother.”
The girls respond in unison and it sounds eerily similar to a cult chanting. The other maids in the room scatter like cockroaches once the carts are in place, which leaves you to set the table and explain what they’re being served. You’re pretty sure it’s Adeline, the former personal handmaiden to Daniela, as a stew. Adeline made the mistake of pushing Daniela off of her when the youngest Dimitrescu had decided she wanted to fuck her maid. You never say no to a Dimitrescu. Amateur.
You haven’t been in that situation yet. It’s probably because you’re so stoic all the time and don’t allow yourself to get too comfortable, no matter how much they try to loosen you up. Bela once tried to trick you into drinking alcohol in hopes of doing just that, but you smelled the metallic wafting from the glass and knew immediately. You don’t drink alcohol in the Castle and you always sleep lightly. They won’t win.
The women start talking about Mother Miranda and the upcoming meeting of the Lords, so you tune them out and place the platters in front of them. You already set the table with cloth napkins and silverware before they entered, so all that’s left to do is stand in the corner like a statue and hope they don’t ask for anything else.
You briefly scrunch your nose when they lift their plate lids and you see the red stew. There are chunks of meat that don’t look like beef or chicken and you know your assumption was right. Adeline met her end. You can’t watch them gobble their food down like it’s nothing, so you stare out the window into the courtyard. Some of the flowers are blooming despite the cold outside. Their resiliency always inspires you.
Your name being called snaps you from your dissociation and you look over at the table to see all of the Dimitrescu women staring at you with frowns. You clear your throat and address them. “Sorry. Yes?”
“I said,” Lady Dimitrescu emphasizes with a glare, “that I must send someone trustworthy to Lady Beneviento. You leave for the estate in the morning.”
Your entire body freezes cold. The Beneviento estate is terrifying in its own right. So many men from the village had entered those gates to the estate and came back rambling and crazed. They spoke of ghosts, terrors, and monsters. At least at Castle Dimitrescu, you know what you’re facing and who the real monsters are. Plus, Lady Beneviento is a doll maker. You hate dolls.
“Oh, Popsicle is nervous,” Daniela teases maliciously and the other daughters gasp mockingly. They started calling you Popsicle years ago because they consider you to be frigid. You’ve only become colder as the years passed.
“Untrue,” You quip without an ounce of emotion but it still makes the girls giggle. Lady Dimitrescu, however, is watching you with a strange combination of fascination and irritation.
“My sister is nothing but a disappointment, servant. No need to fret.” She scoffs, underestimating her sibling greatly. You wonder if she knows just what Lady Beneviento is capable of.
“Yes, my lady,” You say despite your internal conflict.
Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes narrow. Her gaze is starting to make you fidget. “Pack enough essentials for a week. If she requires more of your time, you can return to retrieve items. Now, go.”
You hesitate because they haven’t finished eating and it’s usually part of your job to refill their glasses if need be and clear the table, but when your lady gives you a pointed glare, you decide you don’t care enough to actually fight her on it and walk out of the room.
You’re the only staff member residing at the castle that has their own chambers. It took three years of consistent, good work for Lady Dimitrescu to give you a small room near the servant's quarters. It’s smaller than Lady Dimitrescu’s walk-in closet, but it’s a place to be alone and decompress after a day of witnessing horrors. The other staff hate you for it. You couldn’t care less.
You grab a suitcase from the bottom of your wardrobe and lay it flat on your twin bed. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t outline what you’d be doing for Lady Beneviento so you’re not sure what to pack. You have work attire for casual serving, rigorous cleaning, and more upscale versions for whenever Mother Miranda or the other Lords come to the Castle on business.
Having special visitors doesn’t happen often since Mother Miranda is paranoid and calls for meetings in a secluded area away from any of the Lords’ domains. So, you’ve met her only once before when she came to scold Lady Dimitrescu about something. From context clues, you were pretty sure it was about the experimentation going on in the cellar.
You met Heisenberg once two years ago. Lady Dimitrescu and Heisenberg despise one another but believe they’re the strongest of the Lords so they’re forced to work together more often than not. It’s nice to see someone challenge your lady without a shred of fear.
You’ve never met Lord Moreau or Lady Beneviento. They started to feel like ghost stories, tales created to scare and control villagers, but Lady Dimitrescu speaks of them as if they’re real and now you’re supposedly going to meet the woman that drives people to insanity daily.
“Very exciting,” You whisper to yourself in the candlelit room. You survive working at Castle Dimitrescu for over six years only for a recluse doll maker to possibly be your downfall.
From the ghost stories you’ve heard about Lady Beneviento, she’s supposedly an avid gardener and woodworker. If that’s true, you assume the work you’re going to be doing involves hard labor so you pack your casual work outfits and a few pairs of sturdy loafers.
As you’re placing your toiletries in a small bag, the door to your room opens and you can already tell who it is by the heavy footsteps. You turn to see Lady Dimitrescu straightening up from ducking through the doorway and stay silent. You just wait for her to speak and shove your toiletry bag next to your clothes.
Her thundering footsteps alert you to the fact that she’s right behind you. The hairs on your neck stand too, so there’s that. Even after all these years, this woman still sends a shiver down your spine. You’re able to hide the feelings of fear, anger, and disgust thankfully, and it’s kept you alive.
“Lady Beneviento has a feeble mind. Be gentle with her.” She finally says after a minute of pure silence and you quirk your brow since your back is turned to her. You sincerely doubt she cares about whether you treat her sister well. It’s all about appearances with her. She proves you right a second later. “Mother Miranda entrusted me with this. If Lady Beneviento is unhappy with your service…”
“You’ll slice my throat and make a vintage?” You finish her threat for her with way too much confidence. You’ve heard every threat and harsh word she has to offer. Lady Dimitrescu’s hands land on your shoulders roughly and squeeze so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises. You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, my lady. I will do my best.”
“See that you do.” She warns and uses her left hand to turn you around so you’re facing her. You’re at eye level with her hip and you have no urge to meet her gaze so you stare at the soft material of her white dress. Her hands are still on your shoulders but one of her fingers twitches to caress your neck. She must feel how fast your heart is racing because she chuckles, low and slightly seductive. “It’d be such a shame to have to lose a servant as loyal as you.”
You have no loyalty to her. She’s become a means to an end. You don’t try to kill her or attempt to coerce others to do so. You don’t try to run because you know they’re prideful and will hunt you down. Self-preservation keeps you here. You’re pretty sure she knows that deep down.
You just nod though and it’s the appropriate response because she pulls away and walks to the door. She says, “8 am sharp at the front door. You will be escorted to the estate.”
“Yes, my lady.”
And with that, she ducks through the door and leaves you in silence once more.
.
.
.
The driver of the carriage kicked you out gruffly the moment you reached the front gates to the Beneviento estate.
“It’s all on foot from here. Good luck. You’ll need it.” The bastard had said mockingly before laughing and driving off.
Now, you’re just standing in front of the gates, staring at the nest-like decoration adorning each door with trepidation. The village is down to your right and a part of you—a ridiculously idiotic part—wants to just run back home, see if your parents are still alive, then leave this godforsaken region. But you know you can’t. Mother Miranda is always watching and she obviously would be keeping an eye on the servant sent to aid Lady Beneviento.
You try to count your breaths to calm down, but it’s not working the way it usually does. You’ve become desensitized and cold to the horrors of Castle Dimitrescu, but what’s ahead is a complete unknown. It scares the living hell out of you.
“You best hurry, madame,” A deep voice warns you. Jerking your head toward the sound, you finally notice him. The Duke. You recognize his face and how his large stomach bulges from his button-down shirt. The sight of a familiar and friendly face calms you. He smiles knowingly. “Tardiness is frowned upon.”
“I know,” You reply. “I’m just…”
He chuckles sympathetically when you trail off. The grimace on your face only deepens when he says, “Perhaps with good reason, but no sense in delaying the inevitable, madame.”
The front gate taunts you and you feel The Duke’s eyes staring at the side of your face, and it all becomes so overwhelming that your body feels numb. With a shaky exhale, you push open the gate and see a narrow dirt path leading further into the estate and fog descending upon the tree trunks.
You step through and flinch when the gate slams closed behind you. The walk through the estate is eerily silent except for the occasion cawing of crows. The trees are dying from the cold and twisting around each other. The fog becomes denser the further you travel. You nearly turn back when you start seeing dolls with rope around the necks, hanging from trees lifelessly.
Your suitcase starts to feel heavy the further you have to lug it, especially after crossing a janky wooden suspension bridge that looks ready to snap and send some poor soul plummeting into the foggy ravine below.
You descend a stone staircase and notice a grave surrounded by glowing yellow flowers. Dolls are littering the ground all around the gravesite and you can’t even read the tombstone because it’s grimy and the slate is cracked in half and missing the left side, revealing that a Beneviento family member is buried here but not which one.
The weirdest part of the trip comes when you have to take an elevator down to a cold, wet cave that connects to a path that reveals the Beneviento house at last. The house is fairly modest compared to Castle Dimitrescu, but this family comes from wealth as well. A gigantic waterfall in the back catches your attention. That’s the culprit behind the fog.
You’re not sure if you should be relieved to be off that creepy path or worried about meeting the woman that crafted said path. Either way, your fate is sealed, so you walk toward the porch and knock on the front door.
It swings open slowly to reveal a foyer. The house is all dark hardwood floors, white paint, and hints of red accents. You look left and right, but see no one so you call out cautiously. “Hello?”
“Down here!” A high-pitched voice scares the hell out of you, making you visibly jump back and yelp. You look down and see a wooden doll blinking at you. You swallow a blood-curdling scream when the doll starts laughing maniacally. “Don’t look so scared, lady! I don’t bite!”
The doll talks and walks on its own and you suddenly feel lightheaded. “W—What the hell?”
The doll jumps up and down and claps her hands together excitedly. “Do you like hide and seek? I bet you can’t find me!”
The doll darts off to the left of the door and her laughs slowly fade the further she goes. You steady yourself on the door jamb. Lady Beneviento has animated dolls. Wonderful. You hang your head and try to just breathe. You count to twenty-six before you feel a presence in front of you that wasn’t there before.
You slowly peer up and see a woman standing awkwardly in the middle of the foyer in full funeral garb with a thick veil covering her face. Your heart stops at the sight of her. She’d be more ominous if she wasn’t fidgeting like a child being scolded.
“Hi,” You manage to say despite the nerves making your hands shake. She straightens her spine and you think you hear her clear her throat from under that veil, but she doesn’t say anything. She just gestures for you to enter the house fully.
With a gulp, you do just that. The door closes behind you as if shut by an unseen force. Despite the face of the woman in front of you being shrouded, you can practically feel her eyes on you.
You stare right back at her and gently tell her your name. Her hands wring together nervously and you think you’re starting to understand the myths and rumors surrounding this woman and how they’re all wrong. You won’t let your guard down just yet though. Castle Dimitrescu has prepared you to survive anything and everything.
“I’m the servant from Castle Dimitrescu. I’ve been sent to help you with something?” You ask despite expecting no verbal response. Like you thought, she doesn’t speak, but she does answer your question.
She walks toward you and cautiously reaches for your hand. You think about pulling away because you don’t know her and don’t particularly like strangers touching you, but you have a feeling that this woman would recoil and it would set you back. She’s quite skittish. So, you let her grab your suitcase and place it on the floor by the door then reach for your hand. The first thing you notice is how soft her skin is. She’s a laborer so you expect callouses and scarred hands, but they’re smooth and manicured with black nail polish.
You blink at her owlishly and you know your mouth is hanging open because you hear a small amused noise come from beneath the veil that makes you blush. She turns and leads you through the house until you see a glass door right behind a desk. It’s an odd placement for furniture, but you’re not an interior decorator so you zip it.
She leads you through the glass door and you gasp at the state of the greenhouse. The glass walls and ceiling have shattered and there are tiny, sharp pieces of glass all over the floor and in the flower beds. Most of the gardening boxes are thrown about, mixing dirt with the glass. All of the flowers have been destroyed. It’s a gigantic mess considering the greenhouse is the biggest area you’ve seen in the home so far. Hell, it’s larger than Castle Dimitrescu’s foyer.
You turn to the woman in black, who you assume is Lady Beneviento, and notice how her shoulders are tense and her hand that isn’t holding yours is fisted. She’s known for her laboring, so a hit like this must hurt.
“A few days ago, there was a storm that passed through that rattled the windows at the Castle. It was so bad that the Dimitrescu girls were afraid the windows would break and the cold would kill them. Did that storm do this?” You ask her gently because Lady Dimitrescu was right. This woman is softer than the other lords.
The woman nods and her veil swooshes with the movement just enough for you to see her neck. You clear your throat. “So, this is what you need from me, Lady Beneviento?”
The veiled woman nods again and it proves your assumption right. This shy, anxious woman is Lady Beneviento and she’s been quite gentle with you. It’s odd and you’re having trouble compartmentalizing the two different perceptions of her that you now have.
“Alright, I’ll do my best.”
You turn toward the greenhouse, ready to dive into the work, but Lady Beneviento grabs your arm and stops you. She clears her throat and you almost think she’s about to talk when a high-pitched squeal makes her jump back.
“Hey, lady! You suck at hide and seek!”
It’s that damn doll standing at the threshold to the greenhouse with her little wooden arms crossed. You glare at her. She ruined the moment. Lady Beneviento bends and beckons the doll to her like it’s a child, and the doll doesn’t hesitate to hop over to her and jump into her arms.
“She wants you to know the work starts later,” The doll sighs. You quirk a brow and the doll chuckles. “I’m Angie and this is Donna. We sorta share a brain.”
“Of course,” You whisper sarcastically. Luckily, the other two in the room don’t hear it. “So, should I return to a guest room until it’s time to start?”
It’s not even noon yet but the lady of the house forbade you from doing any work until later, so you’re feeling off-kilter. You haven’t gotten a chance to relax in years and a part of you is uncomfortable with having nothing to do. You’re a servant. That’s all you are anymore.
“No, weirdo! Donna is gonna make lunch! You should help her!” The doll jumps up and down on Lady Beneviento’s arm and the veiled woman nods enthusiastically.
“Oh, I could try.” Despite being so fearful of this woman earlier, something inside you prompts you to add, “I’m a terrible cook. I once set my kitchen at home on fire and my father had to save the house from destruction.”
The doll, Angie, laughs like a lunatic and for some reason, it makes you smile. You notice a contrast between Angie and Lady Beneviento immediately as you admire them. Lady Beneviento is quiet, shy, and moves as if she’s floating, and she wears all black as if she wishes to disappear or blend into the darkness of the house. Angie, on the other hand, is loud, outgoing, and skips, hops, and jumps around like her little body can’t contain all of her energy. She’s wearing a white wearing dress with a veil that’s covering only the crown of her head and flows down her back. She’s easy to spot and seems to be the mouthpiece.
“That’s okay, doll! Donna has a knack for it! She’ll teach you!”
That’s how you find yourself in a large kitchen in House Beneviento surrounded by fresh ingredients and a woman that’s a walking fire hazard with her veil swooshing around as she moves. Angie’s sitting on the edge of the center island, swinging her little wooden legs back and forth and humming a tune you don’t recognize.
Lady Beneviento places a cutting board right next to Angie on the island and puts a huge knife in your hand. A white ball lands squarely on the board and you stare at the knife then the white ball then at Lady Beneviento with a grimace.
“It’s mozzarella! Just slice it!” Angie explains excitedly.
You have no idea what mozzarella is. The village didn’t exactly receive the finest imports from around the world and the Dimitrescu women never had it before. At least you don’t recall ever seeing it before.
“What is it?” You ask, but still follow orders and cut into it evenly.
“Cheese!” Angie giggles happily and watches as you slice the ball into thick pieces.
Off to the side, you see Lady Beneviento plucking basil from a little flower pot on her window sill. The light hits her so directly that her funeral garb almost looks grey like this. An insane urge to hear her voice and see her face washes over you, but you shake your head and return your full attention to your task before you slice a finger off.
The cheese is slightly damp but doesn’t really have a smell that you can tell, but before you can analyze it further, Lady Beneviento lays the slices you just cut on a long, rectangular plate. She plops a ripe tomato on the board and gestures to it as if you need help knowing what to do with it. You snicker under your breath when she turns to the stove and starts heating something black in a pan.
Angie tries to grab at the mozzarella on the plate and, out of reflex, you smack her hand gently. She grunts and looks at you. If she wasn’t wooden, you’d think she’d be glaring at you.
“Do you even eat?” You whisper to the doll, who recoils back as if she’s offended by the question. It’s a perfectly normal question considering she’s a wooden doll with no internal organs… right?
Angie just huffs and turns to the side, giving you a cold shoulder, which is fine considering this demonic doll still creeps you out a little bit, even if she seems like a rambunctious, slightly demented toddler.
You slice the tomato and appreciate how fresh it looks. Lady Beneviento must grow all of her ingredients. She loves to garden and tend to plants, so you can’t imagine her buying vegetables from anyone in the village the way the Dimitrescu family does.
Lady Beneviento turns the burner off then inspects your work and gives you a thumbs-up despite your slicing being mediocre and the thickness of the slices varying greatly. You know she’s appeasing you, but a small smile finds its way to your lips. It’s odd really. You’ve smiled twice since arriving here and it’s more emotion than you’ve felt in years. This house is dangerous for you, just perhaps not in the ways you thought.
The tomato is layered with the mozzarella on the plate and once she’s satisfied with how it’s all positioned, she grabs the pan from the stove and carefully drizzles some of that black liquid on top of it. It looks beautiful already, but she grabs a glass bottle of olive oil and drizzles some of that on top as well. Then, as a finishing touch, she adds some fresh basil and does a ‘tada’ gesture that nearly makes you laugh.
“What is it called?” You ask her, wanting to know every bit of information you can soak up. She pauses and turns to look at you. At least you think she is. You can see white through the square piece of mesh on the upper part of her veil and wonder if you could see more of her if you tried.
“It’s called Caprese salad,” Angie sighs, seemingly exasperated with being the mouthpiece. “It’s from our home country. We miss home sometimes.”
Lady Beneviento whips toward the doll and swipes her hand through the air in a scolding manner. That’s when you realize that she’s just as guarded as you. Angie let something slip that Lady Beneviento was not ready to share.
You’re consumed by an urge to make her feel better and find yourself saying, “I miss home too. Mine’s right around the corner, but… just as inaccessible, I guess.”
Lady Beneviento looks back toward you and the silence is deafening. When you start to fidget under her scrutiny, she reaches out and places her palm over your bicep. She doesn’t squeeze or caress. She just touches her palm to you and somehow it conveys so much more than words ever could. It helps. She doesn’t linger though.
She takes the food to the small dining table that looks fit for four but only has two chairs. You hesitate to follow her because you’re a servant. You stand in corners and serve food. You don’t sit at the table and enjoy a meal. At Castle Dimitrescu, you eat leftovers in the kitchen when the staff are washing plates and glasses. Here, though, Lady Beneviento pulls out a chair and gestures for you to go to her.
You think about declining but you don’t want to be rude, so you walk over and sit and let her scoot your chair in like this is a date. She’s sweet and lets you relax while she grabs the cutlery, small plates, and a loaf of Italian bread. Your skin itches at the thought of being lazy, but you let her treat you like an honored guest. It’s not a feeling you’ve ever had before and you try to soak it up when she sets the table and lights the candle that’s between you.
When she finally sits across from you, you quirk the corner of your lip and say, “Thank you.”
You’re not sure if she understands the layers behind that or gets that no one has ever treated you with such kindness. She does it so effortlessly though. Lady Dimitrescu was right, in a sense. Her sister is a kind, gentle woman, but you know she isn’t feeble-minded. It makes you want to know what the deal is here. Why is this estate so feared? Why do men come back from here looking like crazed fools? It doesn’t make sense.
A sound brings you out of your thoughts and you see Lady Beneviento’s fingers tapping the wooden table gently to catch your attention. When she sees that you’re mentally with her again, she points to the food and grabs a serving for herself with her fork. You’re eager to try this dish so you don’t hesitate to take some.
You’ll have plenty of work to do later, but for now, you eat and enjoy the comfortable silence with Lady Beneviento.