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Bela:
The stoic one. The book smart one. The one who maids mistake as the least dangerous sister, only for them to be most likely to be dragged to the dungeons by her. She so rarely let her façade of regality and strength slip, even in front of her mother and sisters. This is why it’s so strange that she let you in; to see her at her weakest and most vulnerable moments, the ones where she shook in your embrace and wrung her hands so hard that her flies had to rush away to avoid being crushed. After some time, she no longer had to go to you when she had these moments, as you could see the signs from a mile away. The way her flies would become more restless around her; the way her eyes flicked to any doors in sight every couple of seconds; the way her chest would rise and fall at a much slower rate than usual, to force herself not to hyperventilate in front of others.
Days where it was apparent that her stress had become too much, you knew to grab a nightgown the moment you got to your quarters. If you didn’t, then Bela would come – as she always did – and take you to her room, where you would spend the night in her bed in only your undergarments.
Tonight she simply needed the warmth of your body, so you relax into the mattress as she curls into you side, arm lazily thrown over your stomach. Her puffs of breath are warm on your neck, her nose nuzzling into you every once and a while when she would readjust to bury herself deeper into you. You look up at the vaulted ceiling in her room, remembering the way she clung to you the second she shut her door behind her. You so often felt helpless when she was in one of these moods, where she murmured senseless words into your neck as she nearly crushed your shoulders with her hold on them. You had luckily managed to maneuver her to her bed before she collapsed today – it wasn’t easy to convince her to move once she had settled somewhere.
“Little one?” she whispers, and you hum, fingers running through her hair. “What did you do today?” And so, you start to go through every moment of your day, knowing that your voice soothed her as much as your warmth. You made sure to keep your voice low, but allow for emotions to seep through. Only positive ones, of course. You don’t let your fear come through, not wanting to let her spiral if she heard it. She chuckles into your neck when you express exasperation at a new maid who didn’t know how to properly use a mop, and sighs happily when you talk about tending to the plants in the courtyard, and how the flowers she had planted the previous Spring were still healthy. When you finish, she shifts, and you watch as she sits herself up on an elbow. Her demeanor is relaxed, and although a rare sight, it’s one that makes you feel lighter.
“You didn’t mention what you ate for dinner,” she says, lightly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You blush, always surprised by her attention to detail. You explain that you didn’t, that you worked extra to make up for the new maid, and she looks at you with concern. She fully sits up, swinging her legs over the bed before reaching over to open her nightstand. She sits back up with a box of crackers in her hand.
“Lady Bela,” you start, knowing how Lady Dimitrescu felt about them keeping food in their room – although she’s never addressed them having human food in their rooms – but Bela waves, silencing you.
“You have a tendency to forget meals,” she says, and you give a fake pout, “so I thought I’d keep these here.” You let your face relax when you see her start to open the package for you, a smile tugging at your lips. When it opens, there’s the loud rip of cardboard, and she looks to the door with anxiety once again on her face. You place a hand on her arm, rubbing it as she turns to you.
“You’re okay,” you gently say, and see her shoulders relax before she reaches into the box, passing you a couple of crackers.
“Just don’t get crumbs on the covers,” she says, and you look up to see her joking expression. You give a smirk back, and she allows herself to give you a real smile. When she decides that you’ve had enough – which was more than you personally would’ve eaten – she puts the box back, and you both lie back down. You open her arms, and she accepts the invitation, crawling into your arms.
“Thank you, little one,” she whispers, kissing your cheek. You press your lips onto the tattoo on her forehead, and she purrs happily.
“Goodnight, Lady Bela.”
Cassandra:
People often argued about whether Cassandra or Daniela were the most terrifying. If they knew what Cassandra did in dungeons, especially to those who were deemed her toys, they wouldn’t even need to consider the question. The middle one. The sadist who seemed to have no empathy for humans. The one who felt true happiness when her victims begged for her mercy, only for her to find new ways to torture them. However, she didn’t always want to feel the elation of dragging out someone’s suffering. Sometimes she wanted comfort, but of course no one was allowed to know this. No one but you.
Depending on her mood, sometimes she wanted to cuddle into you. More often than not, however, she wanted to feel you burrowing into her, thrown over her like a human blanket. You assume it’s because she felt most comfortable knowing that she was the protector, that you saw her as a form of safety despite her past. So when she came into your quarters, a look of sad desperation on her face, you immediately wrapped yourself around her, allowing her to swarm you two to her room. You didn’t grab anything to sleep in - she tended to like when you slept naked next to each other, even if you do nothing more. She explained once that she could feel your warmth better that way.
Tonight she still had blood on her, not thinking to wipe it off. She usually did, and the fact that she didn’t just meant that she’d need more attention. You could clean it off of yourself tomorrow, before you started your shift.
She lazily let her fingers trail over your back, occasionally making you shiver. She liked doing these small gestures to make you react unconsciously. She seemed fascinated by these little reactions; how human they are. When she cuddled into you, she always set her head on your chest, to listen to your heart. How slow the heartbeat was compared to the other maids. When she first heard it, she panicked, thinking that you were dying, saying that she never heard a human’s heartrate that slow unless they were close to death. When you explained that it just meant you were relaxed, she seemed confused – no human had ever been relaxed around her.
After that, she became just as protective of you as she did her family. She’d kill maids who dared to cross you, offer you jewelry from trespassers who she had caught, even dressed your wounds if you got hurt rather than try to drink from you. Her hand glides up to your hair, where she pulls gently to get you to look at her. She simply examines your features, as she does when she’s especially stressed.
“What’s wrong, Lady Cassandra?” She frowns, but her face softens when you start drawing circles with your thumb on her stomach.
“There was a man-thing with a gun today,” she says, and you nod. She used to not care about people with weapons, but became increasingly worried when a man had aimed at you several months ago.
“Is that what this is from?” You ask, lifting your hand and running a finger over the dried blood under her bottom lip. She nods, and her arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. “So he’s been taken care of. Is there another problem?” Her hold tightens, threatening to crush you. You let your head fall on her chest, nuzzling into her neck. You know she has a hard time talking about her feelings, with some nights filled with silence as you let her collect her thoughts. She suddenly releases you, getting up from the bed.
“Cassandra?” She holds a hand up, giving you a look as if to say ‘stay in the bed.’ You prop yourself up on your elbow, watching her walk to the bathroom and turning the sink on. A few minutes later she comes back, her skin clean from the blood and carrying a wet hand towel. She sits and gently pushes on your shoulder so you lay back down.
“I don’t want him on you,” she mutters, leaning over you. She wipes where the blood had smeared on you, a look of concentration on her face. Her tongue even pokes out of her lips as she works, making you smile gently. She notices and clears her throat, pulling away with a sheepish look. She stands and walks to the bathroom, tossing the hand towel in the sink before walking back, quickly getting under the covers. You immediately crawl to her, throwing yourself over her, and she purrs as she wraps her arms around you. You both remain quiet, but as you feel yourself drift off, you feel her press her lips to the top of your head.
Daniela:
The youngest and least stable of the sisters. The maids knew to avoid eye contact with Bela and Cassandra, although it wasn’t a guaranteed death sentence if you accidently caught one of their eyes on a good day. But Mother Miranda help you if you caught Daniela’s no matter her mood. Her moods were so wild, that if you so much as said a compliment in the wrong way, you’d get a sickle through your skin. Be polite, you’ll end up hurt. Say nothing, you’ll end up dead. No one dared to be rude, lest they wanted to end up a monster in the dungeons. How you managed to survive your first encounter with her, you’ll never know. How you wound up being the person she came to when she felt lonely, you’ll never understand.
But here you were, once again in her bed, as she clung to you. She was indeed the touchiest of the sisters, unafraid to rest on top of you rather than by your side. You knew in moments like these, she felt like you were the only one who was there for her, so you didn’t care how close she got. She needed you, and you were more than happy to indulge.
Tonight she was completely on top of you, legs on either side of your hips and wrapped around your thighs, arms tucked tightly around your neck. Her head was tucked into your neck, and you could feel her loud purrs on your chest. You lazily rubbed her back with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her lower back. If you were to be honest, you cherished these moments of quiet between you and the youngest. She so often expressed how lonely she felt, with her family always busy with duties around the castle, but she never shared these intimate moments with anyone else.
Her sigh brought you back from your thoughts. You release her from your grasp, although keep your hands on her, as she pulls back to look at you. She tucks the long hair that she has behind her ear, and you let a hand reach up and gently scratch at the shaved side, her purring growing louder. She looks at you with a semblance of awe, as if she can’t believe you’re there, with her. It’s a stark contrast to the wild look she wears throughout the day.
“Do you ever dream of what’s out in the world?” she asks suddenly, and you furrow your brows.
“Is there a specific reason you ask, Lady Daniela?” she sits up so she straddles your lap, and looks out her window. Realizing that she may get stuck in her daydreams, you place your hands on her hips, squeezing gently to keep her grounded. She looks back at you, and smiles gently.
“I was reading a little while ago, the new book that The Duke brought.” She waves to her nightstand, and you look over to see the book, a green cover with gold cursive text on the spine. “It spoke of something called an ocean, a giant body of water. It’s in so many of my books, and by the water there’s something called sand that I think is like snow but warm, and trees that are made of palms, I kind of want to make one of those…” You squeeze her hips again, and she blinks out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I just want to see these things.” She suddenly looks flustered, and you raise an eyebrow.
“Is that all, Lady Daniela?” She pauses before sighing.
“In the books, the characters always fall in love in front of the ocean. I just… want something like that.” Rather than squeeze, you let you thumbs draw circles on her hips. She looks down at you, still flustered, before falling back on top of you to try to hide it. You chuckle, wrapping your arms back around her. You stay quiet, knowing better than to give her advice when it comes to her daydreams, and let her think while keeping your arms around her. Eventually she sighs, nuzzling into your neck again.
“At least I have you,” she murmurs, “you won’t leave me.”
“Never, Lady Daniela.” You press a kiss to her temple, and she relaxes, occasionally readjusting to try to get closer. You think that she’s fallen asleep, but you find that you can’t. You look over at the window, thinking of this ‘ocean.’ It would be nice to see, although you wouldn’t particularly want to see the trees made of palms. You’re not sure how much time passes, but you’re startled when she sits back up.
“I can hear you thinking,” she says, and you smile sheepishly. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I read. What if I read to you?” You chuckle softly.
“I think that may help, Lady Daniela.” She grins, picking the book up and starting from where she left off, although you don’t mind. Her unusually soft voice, as well as the comforting weight on your hips, makes your eyelids heavy. As you fall asleep, you notice her put the book back as she lays back on you, kissing your cheek.