Chapter Text
Chapter 13: Keys
The manor was warm in the way the hospital never had been. The scent of wood polish, the low crackle of the fireplace, the faint hum of footsteps—it felt like home. For the first time in a long while, Maddy thought the words: This is home.
She found the sisters gathered in their study room. Bela and Cassandra were sprawled across the cushions, leaning over a shared book, while Daniela was fixated on a small speck on the window, likely a bug of some sort.
“Hi girls, how are you all enjoying the Sunday break?” Maddy stepped a foot into the room.
“Hey!” Daniela points at Maddy, “your not allowed in here, Mom—”
Maddy froze. The word hung in the room, fragile and surprising.
Bela and Cassandra exchanged amused glances, while Danila’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“I—I didn’t mean—” Daniela stammered, eyes wide.
Maddy only smiled softly at the embarrassed girl’s attempt to recover from the slip, warmth blooming in her chest. She let the word settle letting it feel real. Home.
—
Dinner was delicious. Once a week since her arrival, the menu had been shaped to suit Maddy’s preference for fish. Tonight was a delicious Mediterranean-style salmon with a balsamic glaze and kalamata olive salad.
Alcina had sent the staff home early. It was something she did regularly on Sundays.
“It’s always good to do things yourself sometimes,” she had said once, during Maddy’s first week at the manor, as they worked side by side in the kitchen. “To remember why it feels good to be helped by others.”
The memory lingered now, warm and unassuming, folded into the rhythm of the evening like the clink of cutlery and the low murmur of conversation.
As Alcina and Maddy set the dishes away, moving easily around one another in the quiet kitchen, Alcina spoke without looking up.
“Mags?”
Maddy paused, then smiled softly, still adjusting to the way her name sounded in Alcina’s mouth. “Yes, Alcina?”
“You mentioned once that you play cello,” Alcina said. “Back when I first gave you the tour. Yet, you haven’t played it. Why?
Maddy considered that, stacking a plate a little too carefully. “Oh, I'm not sure,” she admitted. “I know you said I could, but I always felt like I shouldn't. Like it was a trap you’d set for me.”
Alcina turned them, brows lifting—not offended, but thoughtful.
“A trap?”
Maddy huffed a quiet laugh. “Not unkindly. Just… something that would prove I didn’t belong.”
Alcina was silent for a moment. Then, gently: “Would you play for me tonight?”
Maddy looked up.
“With me,” Alcina added. “I’ve prepared some sheet music—piano and cello arrangements.”
The invitation wasn’t a trap. It was an offering.
—
Around ten, there was a knock on Maddy’s door.
“Why, hello,” Maddy said, smiling. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Mother sent us,” Bela said primly, peering up at her.
Cassandra leaned in next. “She said you’d play the cello for us.”
Daniela brought up the rear, arms crossed with theatrical defiance. “We refuse to go to bed until you do.”
Maddy laughed softly, the sound warm and unguarded. The manor, it seemed, had already decided how the night would unfold.
The four entered the music room, with Bela and Cassandra hooked comfortably into either of Maddy’s arms, Daniela forging ahead like a herald..
Alcina waited at the open grand piano, seated with effortless poise in the wine-colored slit dress she wore on the solstice, her hands resting lightly near the keys. A few feet in front of her stood the cello, already positioned, its stand open with sheet music unfolded and waiting.
“I had the cello tuned this morning.”
Maddy blinked, then smiled faintly. She drew the box experimentally across the strings.
The sound surprised her.
The strings answered with a warm, organic twang—gut, not steel, not synthetic. Alive beneath her fingers in a way she wasn’t used to. She adjusted her grip, tested another note, listening closely.
This was not a student’s instrument. Not even a good conservatory one.
It was the kind of cello built for concert halls—for Vienna, for Berlin. For rooms where silence gathered respectfully before the first note was ever played.
Maddy swallowed, suddenly aware of the care embedded in every detail.
“Start when ready, draga.” Alcina interrupted Maddy's thoughts.
“It’s simple,” she said. “You’ll recognize the melody.”
Maddy did. Almost at once.
“It’s a lullaby,” she said quietly.
Alcina’s fingers waited patiently on the keys. Maddy closed her eyes, took one last breath, then started to play.
As the music unfolded, Maddy felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. The music soothed her , settled into her bones, cupped her face with an aching familiarity. She recognized it because she had heard it before. Softly, in the dark, those first two nights of her stay, when Alcina had played alone in the dark, to quiet the thoughts that would not let her rest.
The realization only deepened the ache. This was her lullaby. Alcina’s.
When the final note faded—the last draw of the bow, the last resonant thrum of the cello, the final keystroke beneath Alcina’s hands—Maddy was breathless. Heat clung to her skin, hair sticking sweetly to her forehead.
She hadn’t played like that in years.
Hadn’t played as if the music itself were demanding her voice.
The three girls had fallen asleep, huddled together as one snoring mass.
Alcina spoke quietly, her daughter's sleep more important than her volume. “My mother wrote this lullaby for me.”
“I was a restless child. My thoughts wouldn’t cease. My mother discovered one day that I had fallen asleep underneath this piano when she was playing Chopin.”
“She spent months writing it.” Alcina said quietly. “One night she said she had a gift for me—but in order to receive it, I had to stay in bed.”
Her gaze had gone distant, fixed on something far older than the room around them.
“I lay there, waiting,” she continued. “And as I did, she began to play the piano. When I awoke in the morning, I was furious.” A faint, rueful smile touched her mouth. “I told her she had lied. That she had tricked me. I waited so long for the gift that I fell asleep.”
Alcina exhaled softly
“Miranda laughed. It was my favorite memory of her—her laugh that morning.”
She was quiet a moment before going on.
“I miss her dearly, Mags. Her death hardened me. Watching her wither away—seeing the woman who raised me forget my name.” Her voice lowered. “She didn’t know who I was at the end.”
Another pause.
“One night, I couldn’t sleep. There had been a snowstorm; her doctor couldn’t come. I was worried.” Alcina’s fingers tightened slowly where they rested. “So I played her lullaby.”
Her voice barely carried the next words.
“That morning, I found her. She passed.”
She swallowed.
“I don’t know if she remembered the song. If she remembered that it was a gift. If she remembered her laughter that morning, all those years ago.”
Alcina finally looked at Maddy.
“That was the last time I played the piano,” she said. “Until you came.”
Maddy let Alcina’s memory seep into her mind, filling every crevice, every synapse. Tears ran freely from her gray eyes as she met Alcina’s amber gaze, letting the warmth, the ache, the sorrow, and the love wash through her.
Alcina stood and offered her hand for Maddy. Together they rose, silent, Alcina looking down, Maddy looking up.
“Let’s get the girls to bed, draga mea,” Alcina said, guiding her towards the music room’s sofa, where a tangle of sleeping mischief waited.
Alcina hoisted little Daniela into her arms, while Maddy nudged Bela and Cassandra awake.
The five of them moved through the manor, winding up at the girls’ bedrooms. One by one, the sisters were tucked in, each receiving a gentle kiss goodnight from both Alcina and Maddy.
Once the doors closed behind them, the two women descended to the central floor, Alcina’s room to the east, Maddy’s to the west.
“Good ni—”
Good ni—”
They spoke in perfect synchrony. Maddy chuckled; Alcina shook her head, grinning.
“Good night Mags, sleep well.”
Alcina turned and disappeared into her room, leaving Maddy alone in the quiet hallway, the faint echo of shared laughter still lingering.
Back in her own room, Maddy let out a slow sigh, her back pressed against the door. Her mind was still racing from the events of the evening. Only one thing could settle it now. And she had already played the lullaby.
She tore through her dresser, finding what she needed: a small wooden box and a green floral gown. She slipped into her dress quickly, grabbed the key from its boxy prison, and left her room, moving with quiet determination down the hall.
Standing before the heavy wooden French doors of the east wing, Maddy felt she was in a foreign country. She had never ventured past the central study, she had never wanted to—until now.
The key trembled slightly in her hand. She took a few deep, steadying breaths, then inserted it into the ancient lock. She didn’t need to turn it. The key itself seemed to push the door open, swinging with a low, groaning protest.
Alcina was there. Sitting in a tall-backed armchair, glass of wine in hand. A red lipsticked smile on her face. Calm, poised… waiting.
“It wasn’t locked?” Maddy said as she stepped into the room, an arms distance from the chair.
“No, draga. It never was. Every night it’s been unlocked.”
“Why?”
“I knew,” Alcina said softly. “From the moment I heard your voice on the phone… you were going to change my life. And you have.”
“But you said we needed restraint.”
“I meant restraint in physical affection,” Alcina replied. “We had just met the day before. One can’t go around sleeping with a woman they just hired.”
“When did you… fall?”
“Solstice,” Alcina murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You?”
Maddy hesitated, almost crying at this point. “When I stopped wearing the key. I heard the girls gossip… it was too much. I broke.”
“I’m sorry, draga," Alcina said, reaching for her hand. She pulled the petite woman closer to her.
“What does that mean, draga?”
“It’s a Romanian term of endearment—my dear.”
She stood, dwarfing Maddy. Alcina’s amber eyes met Maddy’s gray. “Mags… I love you.”
Maddy’s lips curved, her chest tightening. “Alcina… I love you as well.”
Alcina leaned forward, closing the last fraction of distance between them. Their lips met softly, a kiss that held everything—the confession, the lullaby, the long months of quiet longing, the trust, the warmth of home.
When they pulled back, just enough to breathe, Maddy looked up at the goddess before her. Alcina pressed her forehead into Maddy’s. Eyes closed, heart hammering in quiet rhythm.
“Don’t think that just because we kissed you can lay in my bed.” Alcina murmured, breaking the silence of their hearts becoming one.
Maddy opened her mouth to protest, but Alcina spoke again, “You will not sleep underneath my covers wearing that evening gown, draga.”
Maddy’s look of bafflement made Alcina laugh. “Put on your pajamas and come back, Mags.”
Maddy laughed, “I hope you don’t mind, but I sleep in the nude.”
“All the better.” Alcina replied with a grin.
The two women stripped off their dresses, and slipped underneath the warm, silky covers of the bed. Alcina wrapped herself comfortably around Maddy.
“Sleep well, draga,” Alcina murmured, nuzzling a kiss into Maddy’s neck.
Maddy’s reply was only a blissful whisper. “Sleep well, Al.”
Their hearts beat together, letting the night fold around them—the key, the music, and the manor itself settling into peace.