Chapter Text
You could hear a jovial voice from where you sat in the cellar, in a puddle of groundwater that leaked from the cracked walls. It was unusual to hear such genuine happiness; you only heard giggling and cheers from the Lady’s daughters, and that joy was only derived from the suffering of your fellow maidens. The cheery voice slowly grew louder. You heard the sounds of clicking and tapping approaching with the voice. You had heard of Heisenberg’s “soldiers” and hoped this wasn’t one of those. It certainly wasn’t anything produced by Moreau; even the villagers knew him as a failure. You had seen the Moroaica and Samca Lady Dimitrescu created, and her daughters, you’d recognize any of her creations. That left only one house, the most secretive of them all, House Beneviento.
Before you could finish your musings, a white ball-jointed doll in an old, worn wedding dress stopped in front of your cell. It was creepy, maybe even creepier than the Moroaica that taunted you in the cellar. Blank, soulless eyes bore into yours. Its mouth hung open, head tilting slightly as it approached the bars. You shifted backwards. It slipped through the bars. You pressed your back against the wall, bringing your knees to your chest. Crying out for help would only summon the Moroaica, or worse, Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters. All you could do was hold your jaw shut, and close your eyes to get the god-forsaken doll out of your sight. A small wooden hand rested on your arm, stroking it slowly.
“Pretty…” Its voice scraped past its mouth, making you cringe. “Look at me! Look at me!” It cheered, tugging your arm forward, away from where it held your knees tight to your chest. You did as you were told, even if it was an inanimate object that was giving the orders. Your time in the cellar taught you to obey every order, no matter who it was from, no matter what it was. It hobbled in a circle, cooing and cheering in that scrappy voice, high-pitched and grating. “Ooh, I found a cute friend! A pretty friend!” Tears began to flood over your eyelids, the fear and confusion being too much for you to handle.
Little did you know, this doll, and the woman seeing through its eyes, would give you the most heavenly gift. You didn’t know that the conversation between Lady Dimitrescu and Lady Beneviento had taken a sharp turn, with Lady Beneviento suddenly questioning what the taller woman planned to do with a girl with such doll-like features, a girl perfect for her own house.
What you did know, was that the doll started cackling with glee, and from your experience, that could only mean that you were screwed. The doll noticed you begin to hyperventilate, and sobs wracked your exhausted body as it hobbled close to you. “I’m Angie. We’re gonna be friends!” It cheered, tapping your arms. You covered your ears, desperate to get away from that piercing voice, and constant tapping from wooden fingers. Your teeth grit against each other, barely holding in screams of primal fear. The doll continued its persistent tapping and cheering, becoming louder as her taps began to feel more like jabs. You couldn’t take it. You’d rather have the Moroaica at this point. You’d rather attract Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters; at least you knew what was coming. A screech ripped through your vocal cords, and out your mouth. It hurt to scream like that. It was long and agonizing, but it made the doll stop.
It also made you stop.
~
You awoke in a comfy bed. Glancing around, you noticed that there were lamps, not candles. Castle Dimitrescu didn’t use lamps. You’d think your kidnapping and time in the cellar was just a dream, but peeking down at your body under the heavy duvet proved otherwise. Bruises and cuts littered the expanse of skin that was visible, the rags that Bela forced you into did little to cover your body. The wallpaper was old, moldy, and peeling off the walls. It was so much better than the cellar, however, that you rejoiced in your head.
“Ooh, she’s awake!” Your head turned to the voice so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. That goddamned voice. The ball-jointed doll that tormented you in the cellar threw herself onto the bed from the chair she sat on. “Don’t scream again, it was really loud.” She hummed nonchalantly, sitting on the duvet over your stomach. You leaned your head back on the pillow and shut your eyes, willing the doll to leave. You felt the doll hop off your stomach, and heard the tapping of its wooden feet against the floor as it hobbled away. You opened your eyes slowly, cautiously, only to be greeted with a figure dressed solely in black. The figure gently placed a silver tray on the nightstand next to you, and lifted the cloche, revealing a steaming soup in a pretty china bowl. You stared at the figure in confusion for a moment, before the smell of food, real food, good food, reached your nostrils. You couldn’t stand it. Poisoned or not, it didn’t matter. You were starved. You rolled onto your side and sat on the edge of the bed, slurping up every last morsel. It burned your mouth, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t had a warm meal in weeks. For weeks, you had only been served stale bread and whatever rainwater managed to leak into your cell. The soup warmed you from your stomach, radiating out towards the tips of your fingers and toes. You took the bowl in your hands and gulped down the broth, eagerly licking your lips to gather any drops that may have escaped.
The figure in black mourning wear handed you a handkerchief before taking the tray and its contents away, still having said nothing. You patted your stomach with a smile, the first smile in quite some time, then wiped your saliva from around your mouth. Now that your wits were coming back to you, you regretted not thanking whoever was underneath all of that black fabric. You kicked your legs absentmindedly as they hung over the edge of the bed, and stared at the closed door, hoping that benevolent person would return. They needed to be properly thanked, after all.
Your hopes were brought to life as the black-covered figure entered the room once more, now carrying a glass of water. Clear water. Not muddy, like the fluid that you would eagerly lap from the bricks when it rained. You were able to control yourself, not grabbing the glass until it was set on the nightstand. After gulping it down, you set it on the nightstand again. The figure moved to take the glass; their hands were smooth and soft-looking, and their nails were neatly trimmed and painted black. Without thinking, you took their hands in your own. The figure recoiled as if you’d burned them with just your touch.
“I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I swear, I didn’t mean it.” You spoke quickly, not even knowing what you could’ve done wrong. The mysterious person shook their head, and waved their hand dismissively. You took this as a sign that you were okay. You didn’t offend them too badly. “Thank you so much for the soup and water. You have no idea how much this means to me. If there’s any way I could make it up to you, please…” They shook their head again, and took the empty glass from the nightstand. “Thank you so, so much.” You said again, not knowing any other way to vocalize your gratitude. The figure shook their head again, and left the room with the glass, gently shutting the door behind her. You sat there, on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, waiting for the figure’s return.
You jumped when the door finally did open, but your heart sank when the being that entered was short and white.
“Apparently, I have to be gentle with you.” The shrill voice was quieter now, but still grated against your eardrums. Wooden fingers wrapped around two of your own fingers, and pulled you from the bed. This doll was a lot stronger than it looked. The ball joints pinched your skin. You recoiled in pain, and held your fingers, covered in red lines. “Oopsie! Sorry!” The doll giggled, but made no move to grab your hand again. “Follow me, I’m giving you a tour of your new place!” Your new place…? No, you wouldn’t be living with this doll, right? Maybe the cellar of Castle Dimitrescu wasn’t so bad…
~
You had grown used to the layout of the house in the weeks that followed, though seeing the figure in black was still a rare occurrence. They would appear to give you freshly-cooked food, but kept their distance otherwise. They made no move to touch you or reveal any part of themselves to you. You had been given no name to address them with; even the creepy doll had told you her name, Angie, along with the names of the many other dolls. You hadn’t the courage to ask either the black figure or Angie where you were, and what was going on, out of fear you could fall from their good graces.
You took to cleaning up some things around the house, since parts of the old home were in disarray. Cabinets leaned across hallways, effectively blocking the way through. Dolls were scattered everywhere, however, when you attempted to place them somewhere nicer than the floor, you always found them back on the ground when you next entered the room. Placing them in chests or cabinets was out of the question; the one time you attempted to put a doll into an enclosed space, Angie damn near made your ears bleed with her incessant screeching. The black figure appeared then, calmed Angie, and disappeared before you could thank them.
You still didn’t even know what pronouns to refer to the black figure with. You had never heard their voice or seen their face; the most you’d seen of them was their hands.
However, you were beginning to feel secure in what you’d call a “friendship” with Angie. Her voice didn’t seem nearly as annoying as it did when you first arrived. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice; she was the only doll that was truly capable of simulating human interaction, and the figure under the black veil really didn’t seem too keen on interacting with you. You decided to push for a little bit of information while the two of you sat at a small dining table, surrounded by other dolls.
“So...I’ve been wondering about a couple of things, if I could ask.” You began cautiously.
“Sure!” Angie chirped, cheerful as usual.
“Where are we?”
“Right outside the village, not far from the big lady’s castle.” She mimicked drinking a sip of tea from her empty cup, while you took a sip of actual black tea from your own cup.
“Can I ask about the...person in black…?”
“Hmm…” Angie’s voice changed, and she hopped off her chair. “Follow me.” You obeyed, and followed the little doll as she hobbled over to a staircase, and hopped up the steps. She stopped halfway up, and pointed to a portrait you had admired a couple of times in the past; you recognized Angie in the portrait, but the dark-haired woman always remained a mystery you were too nervous to ask about. “That’s her.” You looked into the dark-haired woman’s painted eyes. You had always thought that the woman was beautiful, but knowing that was the face beneath the veil of the woman who had been cooking and caring for you from a distance made your heart flutter. “She’s a bit different, now.” You turned your gaze to Angie, who seemed sad for the first time since you’d met her. “When she became infected with the Cadou, the area around her right eye kind of… Anyways, let’s get back to tea!” She grabbed your shirt, and tugged you back down the steps after her, a habit she developed since she couldn’t grab your skin without pinching you.
“Wait, wait…” You stumbled down the steps after her, but she stopped at the base, allowing you to stop as well. “What’s her name?”
“You can call her Lady Beneviento.” You damn near fainted. The Lady Beneviento?! The lord who keeps monstrosities in her basement- the basement that contained the master bedroom you had been sleeping in?! Your breathing quickened. How close were you to death this whole time?! How weren’t you dead?!
“Please don’t panic.” A low, yet gentle, voice spoke. You spun in the direction of the voice, only to see Lady Beneviento in her veil.
“Don’t kill me. Don’t send me back down there. Please!” You collapsed to your knees.
“Silly human!” Angie cackled, and patted your shoulder. You looked at her, but couldn’t find comfort in her anymore. She was probably one of the monsters of the Beneviento house. She couldn’t be trusted either.
“Please listen.” Lady Beneviento kneeled in front of you. Angie ran to her, then sat next to her knee. “I don’t want to harm you. I won’t harm you. Nothing will harm you here.”
“W-What’s going on?” You whimpered. “Why did you take me from Lady Dimitrescu?”
“My sister would have continued to torture you until she decided to drain your blood. Angie found you in the cellar, and that’s how I came to know of you. I thought you looked like a doll, you still do...you’re so beautiful.” A shuddering sigh left her body. “I couldn’t let her continue torturing you. I made a deal with her, and I was able to bring you here. Don’t be afraid.” You couldn’t think of what to say. “Don’t leave.” You were still frozen. Thousands of questions ran through your head, but you couldn’t vocalize a single one. “You need to stay.” Her voice slowly became more firm. “I won’t let you leave.” You reached forward, extending a shaky hand towards her. You couldn’t speak, you didn’t know what to say, what you could say, but this woman did save you from being turned into wine. This woman did cook for you, provide you with a cozy bed, a roof over your head, and a friend in Angie. Lady Beneviento’s shoulders visibly tensed at the sight of your hand reaching out for her. You dropped your hand. A little physical contact would have gone a long way in comforting you, but she refused to give it. Your shoulders drooped, and you hugged your knees to your chest.
“I’m sorry.” You manage to mumble. You watch as Lady Beneviento stands, takes a couple of steps closer, then kneels directly in front of you. Her hands tremble, and she seems unsure of what she’s doing, but her hands come to rest on your shoulders.
“Close your eyes.” She whispers. You do as she says, and one of her hands rises to cover your eyes, despite your obedience. You didn’t mind it, though. Her hands were
really
soft. You felt her hot breaths on your lips. You knew what was coming, and despite the panic coursing through your veins, you were surprisingly okay with this. She pressed her lips to yours, warm and plush. Your hand rose to cradle her face, but she guided it away, and pressed it to her shoulder. You parted with a sigh. Your eyelids fluttered open, only to be met with the black veil. “In time.” She spoke softly, sensing your disappointment. She stroked your cheek with her hand once more, before disappearing before your eyes. You leaned back against the wooden floor, and cradled your cheek where her hand was.