Chapter Text
3 bouquets of peonies… Check.
5 bouquets of roses… Check
Classy.
5 bouquets of red carnations… Check
How elegant.
10 bouquets of lavender… Check
Must be a favorite of theirs; not a common request.
Don’t freak out. Delivering a collection of specially ordered bouquets to the Dimitrescu house is no biggie. Anyone could do it really. The Duke does business with them regularly and he hasn’t had his balls chopped off (yet.) You’ll be fine. Just hold on to your wits, your striking ever-present charisma, and your other admirable qualities that you for sure have but also can’t seem to recollect. You try and focus on how you’re going to present yourself to the Dimitrescus as their estate comes in to view.
See, you thought it would be cute to personally deliver all your little flowers from villager to villager. It’s not cute anymore. It’s not cute when you’re marching off to the Dimitrescu castle like you’re entering a slaughterhouse. Every few months a girl goes off to the Dimitrescu state and seldom do they return. You know it’s more or less an open secret that all of the lords are getting down to some human right violations and you are in no way excited to go down there. Of course, you shall not be a victim of the same fate because you’ve decided so. That’s how that works.
Your cart’s janky wheels skirt back and forth against the cool pavement of the Dimitrescu estate. Wow. It’s almost like the cart doesn’t want to go in either. The cool mist surrounding you settles on your skin and you feel an electric chill go down your body. Standing right at the entrance there’s no option left but full steam ahead.
You raise your fist and pound against the massive door.
KNOCK
KNOCK
KNO-
The door creaks open and you have to stop yourself from screaming. You thought a maid or something not-
“What’s this for?” A sharpened black nail pointed down at your collection array of bouquets. She gripped her bloody scythe a little tighter in her hand. You were scared. Like really scared.
“Oh! This is the special order” You gestured at the flowers, “of flowers.” Nice one.
The top of her lip curled into a sneer, “Why would we need flowers?” She rested her hand on her hip and tipped her head to the side in a questioning stare.
Hold on.
Was this order for the Dimitrescu family or your regular customers the Dumitru family?
Oh sweet mother of pearl...
“I…” You sweat a little.
“Go on.” The blonde woman smirked at you with her bloodied lips.
“I just thought…well,” Oh god, you don’t have an excuse for bothering them. Looking up at the woman you thought there was no good way out of this. You eyed the red soaked scythe and swallowed down some spit.
“Yes?” She smiled wider now. She looked pretty.
“Any woman as lovely as you deserves flowers right?”
“Really?” She smiled cooly but seemed awfully flattered.
Yes. You’re getting away with it. You’re getting away with it! Your ever-present charisma. Your wits. Oh yes. You are the master of seduction.
The woman snatched the collar of your shirt. You are not getting away with it. You would have fallen flat on the ground if it wasn’t for her iron grip lifting you up.
Her face was an inch away, “Say it again.”
“You’re lovely.” She waited for more.
“Alluring.” Still nothing from the woman.
“Magnificent. Stunning.” You were running out of adjectives at this point.
“Pulchritudinous.” You grinned nervously.
She threw her head back and let out a huge chortle. She is completely amused by you. You are unsure of whether or not this is a good condition.
She stopped laughing.
“MAIDS.” The little servants scurried to her and awaited her instruction. She had not put you down yet. You were starting to feel like she never would.
She pointed at one of the maids with her scythe, “Take these flowers up to my room.” She whipped her head around to the other one, “Go and prepare two cups of tea for the guest and I.”
The guest and I? On the up side she used proper grammar. On the down side you are the guest. The universe always has its own little ways of balancing things out. She has not let go of your shirt and now you really felt like she never would.
You let your eyes bounce back and forth between the scenery looking for anything to help. The little shrubs that you turned to with begging eyes did not help, nor did the wooden planks of the floor you could see over the woman’s shoulder. This was really quite the situation.
Looking at the woman she didn’t really give anything away in her facial expression, just the same cool amusement that she had maintained she’s had since opening that stupid door. You kind of wondered if she was always like that or if it was an act. Just how human was she? She laughed at you, yes. Maybe she has a sense of humor about things, but really you knew it was a kind of patronizing sense of humor and you could see in that carnivorous look of hers that unadorned flattery wasn’t going to keep you safe or get you anywhere good.
She yanked your shirt forwards and you stumbled inside.
“Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!” She giggled to herself.
Did that shithead just quote Dracula at you? Oh, she thinks she’s funny.
“Come on. We’re going to have a tea party.” She leered over at you, the sharp points of her teeth exposed themselves as she leaned in closer.
No, she has not let go of your shirt.
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The maid quietly placed the cups of tea on the table, “Anything else Lady Bela?”
She sat across and did not pull her eyes away from you, “No. You may go now.”
Bela, her name was Bela. That maid just saved you because you did not know how you were going to explain knowing of Bela’s ‘loveliness’ but somehow not knowing her name. She hadn’t said much to yet and you suppose there isn’t much to talk about when you’re being dragged across a few thousand feet stretch to the library.
The bouquet of lavender sat now in a vase on the table.
She theatrically played with a strand of her hair and batted her eyelashes at you,“What’s your name?” You were really, really starting to get the vibe that she was just messing with you and trying to see how far you would double down. Your mama didn’t raise no quitter.
“My name is-”
“I’ll just call you charmer.” Ok. So she is messing with you.
You stared blankly.
“Casanova?” You considered it. Was that better? It’s Italian. Classy.
She tried again, “Siren?” No, that was much, much worse. You just made a face at her.
“Forbidden temptress of-”
“Charmer’s fine.”
“Perfect.” She sat her chin in her hand and furrowed her brows at you in that kind of nonchalant investigative way.
It’s seems that much of her energy goes in to being nonchalant and cool. Which kind of makes her a geek when you think about it. You were not going to call her a geek because she was in fact a geek who drinks young maiden’s blood. You are a young maiden. You generally prefer your blood inside your body as opposed to on the floor or around Bela’s mouth.
You watched as she picked up an opaque container and lifted it up over her cup of tea. She tilted it over the rim and let the deep red liquid fall in to the cup. Well, maybe it was strawberry puree. It could be anything really. Anythinggggg.
She checked for your reaction. Does she really have nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon? How could anyone be bored enough to try and freak out some random woman they just met? Has she run out of maids to freak out? Maybe she gets scolded by her mother for that type of stuff. You’ve seen Lady Dimitrescu’s photo once. That lady looks like she could throw down a mean scolding. If you were Bela you would probably do everything possible to avoid that too.
Bela stuck her pointer finger in to the cup of tea and began to stir slowly. She stared up blankly at you waiting again for a reaction. She kind of reminded you of a cat waiting to see how many things she could knock off the counter before you shooed her off.
You tilted your head a little at her and blinked dramatically but did not say anything. You were beginning to wonder if she was really going to do everything in her power to get a reaction out of you or if she was going to let you go.
She continued stirring with her finger, “Want a sip?”
“I’m ok.”
“Try it.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Just a sip.”
“I don’t drink tea.”
“Just a sip.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She hovered the cup in front of your face.
“That’s not tempting me”
“Okay.” She put down the cup.
Maybe she’s running out of ideas.
“Well, since we’re having so much fun why don’t I show you around? In fact, would you like to meet my sisters? Cassandra has a wonderful state of the art knife collection.” Nobody is winning this interaction. This is really one of those victory-less victories you only come across in novels or very unfortunate situations in your life.
She rose from the table and grabbed your arm, leading you to wherever she had decided she wanted you to go. Her heels clacked hard against the floor. There was quite the height distance between you two. You were stuck between trying not to pull too hard on her arm and trying to keep up with her insanely large stride. She knew this. There was a sense of sly amusement on her face and you could feel her pick up her pace a little just to watch you struggle. She was a real irritant you thought. That’s what it boiled down to.
Bela stopped at one of the doors and opened it, “Cassandra. Say hi.” Cassandra was in the midst of licking accumulated blood off the side of a knife. That actually did freak you out slightly.
Cassandra finished and looked at you up and down, “What is that?”
“My charmer.”
“Ew?” Cassandra conjured up a tone only possible between two sisters.
“Don’t ‘ew’ me.”
“Ugh.”
Cassandra turned to you, “Why are you here?”
“I came here to offer an array of flowers to Lady Bela.”
Bela puffed out her chest at Cassandra, “See? The young maidens of the town adore my intellectual charm”
“Do they like the stick up your ass too?”
“Say that again and I’ll tell mother about that one time you snuck out to meet-”
“Oh, just go already.”
“You’re no fun anyways.”
“Whatever.” Cassandra rolled her eyes at Bela,
“Close the door when you leave.”
Bela did not close the door.