#in which bela can't take one single break

[lepusrufus]

As promised, a little thing about Cassandra being well...herself. Plus a sketch to go with it bc I don’t like posting lots of text by itself.

Warning ths one’s gory y’all

"Entertain him for just a bit," her mother had said. "Just take him down to the winery and I'll meet you there shortly." 

And that's how Bela found herself leading one of Alcina's business partners through the castle's hallways. Her mother had to do some urgent calls and leaving a guest by himself would have been quite impolite. And who else to do the task really? Cassandra would probably scare the man to death and Daniela would take him down to the wrong winery. As much as they all reveled in killing and maiming, sometimes they needed to show some face and one such occasion was when the family business was involved.

The man, Emile, has been working with their family for a few years now. If memory serves her right he came from somewhere in France, looking for rare luxury wines. He wasn't exactly a pleasant person, but luckily he didn't talk much when her mother wasn't around, settling for admiring the decorations and paintings adorning their home. 

The long route they were taking, staying well away from the dungeon's entrance, was taking them along one of the castle's outer walls. From the windows you could see the beautiful mountains stretching far in every direction and, down blow, the town bustling with activity. 

"Quite beautiful weather today no?" 

Bela couldn't help a small scowl, invisible under her hood but there none the less, when watching the snow piled on the ground outside. The sun was indeed shining today, but it's warmth didn't quite reach the ground, feeling more like sharp teeth on one's skin. 

"I prefer the warm seasons." 

The man hummed in response, still looking out the large windows while they walked. 

"Come to think of it, I never saw any of you out during winter." 

Bela narrowed her eyes at the remark. His tone came out jokingly, but there was something else in his voice, almost testing the waters to see how much he can poke and prod at a wolf before getting his hand bitten off. Bela decided to fall back in step with him, wanting to keep an eye on his every move. 

"You're just never here long enough," she answered flatly. 

They walked in silence once more, the only audible sound being their boots walking on the hard floor. Until Bela caught glimpse of a quick movement, only to turn and see Emile quickly grab one of the windows' handles and open it fully. 

"What the-"

Bela's surprise died in her throat when the cold hit her, instantly chilling her to the bone. She screamed through gritted teeth out of frustration and pain, feeling the little exposed skin cracking already. Her attempt at backing away failed as her back quickly hit the wall and any logical thought of moving left or right was quickly leaving her mind. 

"Oh, somebody will pay good money for your heads." He barked out a laugh.

Bela wanted to snap back at him, tell him he was so stupidly wrong and no, you can't literally chop our heads off even if you tried. But the pain caused by the cold left her unable to do much more than double over and grind her teeth. 

Until a black blur of robes and insects came slamming against the window, shutting it in the process. Daniela then approached her shivering form while Cassandra materialized from a swarm of insects a moment later. She knelt in front of Bela and grabbed her face. 

"Hey. Hey dummy look at me. Are you alright?" 

Bela only let out a low growl, narrowing her eyes at her. Cassandra pursed her lips, taking that as a no, and got up. 

"Take care of her Dani, I'll be right back."

She moved past her sister, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder and started walking down the hall that Emile had run through a couple seconds prior. Daniela wanted to ask if she needed help, but before she could open her mouth she saw Cassandra whip out her sickle which only meant one thing: hunt's on. 

--

Cassandra's features were hardened into a deep scowl, looking every little bit like the bloodthirsty killer the townspeople feared so much. She wasn't running, as opposed to Emile who just took off. It was pointless. He was heading towards a dead end anyways. 

When she rounded a corner only to see him a little further ahead, she wasted no time in bringing up her sickle and throwing it towards her prey. The blade cut the air forcefully with a quick whoosh and embedded itself into the man's shoulder. He let out a pained yelp and lost his balance, landing face first on the marble floor. He tried to scramble to his feet but Cassandra gave him no time to escape. 

She grabbed the weapon's handle and pulled it free from the man's flesh, turning him towards her in the process. She then planted one foot on his chest, stopping him from getting up. 

Her eyes narrowed and she brought the tip of her sickle to one of the man's eyes, letting out a short chuckle when his expression turned to terror. 

"How did you know?" 

"The real question is how do other people not know? It's pretty obvious once you think about it." 

The answer was anything but satisfactory. Nobody who knew about their weakness was to be left alive, and if killing a bunch of smartasses was what it took to keep her family safe then so be it. Starting with one particular smartass. 

She was snapped out of her thoughts with a loud bang. Looking down at Emile she noticed the gun that he managed to take a hold of and fire up at her. Cassandra didn't move, her eyes merely widening in mild surprise. His expression however contorted from smug to horrified upon noticing that the bullet flew straight through her, only dispersing a small swarm of flies that quickly flew back into her form. 

"You know, I was really considering making this quick and clean since I have other things to do. But you-" she growled, grabbing his face "-you pissed me off." 

He let out a muffled scream when Cassandra's fingers clamped down on his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. After a few stubborn moments she decided to use her sickle too, pushing the blade in between his teeth and prying them open. His muffled protests turned into full on screeches when she suddenly pushed the hooked weapon downwards, it's tip piercing the tongue and neck muscles and poking out through the underside of the jaw. 

The screaming soon mixed with gurgling due to the blood now pooling into his throat and mouth. But that too died down when Cassandra forcefully yanked her sickle back, pulling the bottom jaw that it was still hooked to and ripping muscle and bone with a sickening crack. 

Emile was writhing on the floor for a couple of seconds, unable to make any sound other than the chocked gurgling of the blood now blocking his airways. But soon he stopped moving, dark blood forming a growing pool around his now jawless head. She grabbed him by the hair and started dragging him towards the dungeons. On any other day she would bring him to her mother and have a feast with the rest of her family, but the seething anger that was still coursing through her veins gave her a different idea. 

--

Down in the bowels of the castle, where she even had a space designated as her "working area" Cassandra looked up at her handiwork. Emlie's body was sprawled out on a scarecrow frame, limbs tightly attached to the wooden poles and jaw dangling from his neck attached with a rope. She couldn't go and put the new "decoration" outside herself but she could always have someone else do it. 

With a satisfied smile, she spun on her heels and started to make her way back towards the upper levels of the castle to check on her sisters and inform her mother of what happened. While walking, there was only one thought ringing through her mind. 

Nobody touches my family.

[sylverstorms]

Bela x Maiden ----Songbird Ch. 8 (NSFW)

Ch. 1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

The evening is terribly cold, even by Romanian standards.

The Grand Chambermaid has added more girls to the night shift and instructed you to keep all fireplaces in the castle lit at all times. You have been warned the daughters will be extra irritable and you are not to take breaks nor shrink your duties in the slightest, if you care for your survival.

For all intents and purposes, it is going to be a long night.

Longer still, considering this is your first time attending the Dimitrescus' dinner and a single mistake can easily make it your last.

By the time the daughters swarm into the room your stomach is in knots, yet you valiantly fight off the urge to shift. Bela catches your eye as she pulls her chair out, beside Cassandra and adjacent to you. Daniela is already sitting with her back to the maids —which you can't help but think is for the best— next to her mother's larger, empty seat.

The redhead is complaining about how hungry she is, Cassandra is twirling a knife between her fingers in as if to keep her mind off pouncing on someone and drinking them dry, while a certain blonde is perfectly still and very, very tense.

You hope the awkwardness of trying to avoid looking at each other is only registered by the two of you and nobody else.

Everything fades into the background when you hear the Lady's booming steps draw close, like the thunder you so fear heralding the lightning you so despise. When she ducks through the archway, you see a vision of terror and elegance combined into one giant form.

God, she is so much more intimidating here than the few times you caught glimpses of her from a distance.

“Are you feeling well, my daughters?” she asks, reaching out to touch Daniela and Bela, the two closest to her.

You keep your eyes down, trying to blend into the background as other maids begin bringing platters of food to the table. You aren't sure if it is a good or bad thing that you are to serve wine for tonight.

Beside you, Alexia is the epitome of calm. You wish you could be half as relaxed as she looks.

Until the moment you are to step forward with another maid for the refills— and Alexia's eyes rapidly flit behind you. Her hand is on your wine bottle before you can think to move.

“I'll take it from here.” she mouths and you are all too happy to let her.

Only, you cannot help but wonder what brought this sudden intervention on. One subtle glance over your shoulder and you notice the piercing looks some of the girls present are giving you.

“Hey, Alexia~ what are you doing later?” Cassandra smirks when the raven-haired beauty politely leans between Bela and Alcina to fill their glasses.

“Cassandra.” The Lady chastises in a tone that's exasperated, rather than biting.

“Sorry, mother.” The brunette doesn't look all that apologetic, either.

Daniela says something to mock her that you don't quite hear, too focused on the way Bela's gaze shifts from Alexia's to yours.

Searching. Intense.

Dark.

...

“You should be careful around here.” Alexia warns in a steady whisper, once dinner is over and the two of you clean the table.

You wait until other maids have vacated your immediate vicinity to speak up. “Why am I getting the feeling some girls don't like me much?”

“Because they don't. Do you know how many of them were opting for Bela's attention before you came along?” Alexia tells you. “She's by far the safest to be around. With you gone, that's one more spot open for them, for preferential treatment.”

Great. Just what you needed in your life. You never could deal well with animosity towards you. Born a performer, others' opinion of you affects your psychology more than you'd like.

“You don't worry for yourself?” you ask.

Then again, from what you've seen, Alexia is right at home in the castle. You wonder what the story there is, how she and someone as cruel and sadistic as Cassandra came to be.

“Not really, no. It's others who worry about me, now. I clawed and bled for my place here, but I am not like them anymore.” Alexia shrugs. “If those bitches really attempted anything to make me spill the wine like I believe they would with you... well. Alcina wouldn't hurt me either way. And let's just say Cassandra would have made a spectacle of them.”

That's not hard to believe. A different thought strikes you, then. Alexia will not always be around. And if several of your coworkers are out to get you...

“Bela is in your corner far more than your own kind, at this point. Trust me. Talk to her.”

Right. Talk. The one thing Bela and you excell at. The two of you practically get along when you're not talking.

And besides. You don't want to go crying to someone who looks down on humans as much as her to save you.

Twice was enough.

...

You are walking back to your assigned post, fighting off a shiver as you round the corner—

Only to come face to face with a familiar, tall figure consisting of black and yellow. You keep the rising yelp inside your throat out of sheer stubbornness, even as your muscles make you tense to the point of flinching.

Bela is leaning against the wall with her arms crossed –and your eyes definitely don't stray to appreciate the lines forming under the taut fabric of her outfit there— looking none-too-amused. The tension you could feel about her at dinner is still present, several shades more apparent now that you're closer to her.

“Oh. Good evening.” you greet and attempt to walk around her, because you know her moods can be dangerous. For you and your nerves.

“That all you're going to say to me?” The cold echo of Bela's voice is on par with the snowstorm raging outside.

You turn around instinctively, not wanting to have your back to her at the moment.

“...you're looking good tonight?” you try.

All you see is a dark blur before Bela has you pressed into the wall, caging you in with her gloved hands on either side of your head. You find yourself unable to look anywhere other than straight into her gorgeous amber eyes and you absolutely loathe the fact you have to crane your head up to do so.

“Cute.” she says, yet her tone is flat. “Tell me what's going on with the other maids.”

“Nothing?” You reply, summoning forth aggravation to replace the traitorous warmth rolling down your stomach at your position.

Bela doesn't seem convinced. “No trouble at all?”

“No.” you retort, firm.

“Tell me their names.” Bela demands. Anyone who hasn't witnessed the horrors of the dungeon may have cowered into giving her what she wants, but that's not you.

“So you can do, what? Kill them? Drag them to the dungeons where I've been? No, thanks.” you reply. “The only one giving me trouble is you.”

You push at Bela's chest –surprised she lets herself be moved back— and free yourself. Part of you isn't too fond of this escape, but following that part never led you to any smart decision.

The blonde easily falls into step with you.

“What?” you ask her with a sigh. Why is she so damn distracting to look at?

“The fireplace in my room needs to be stoked.” Bela words it like an obligation. Almost an order.

Annoying as it is, you do work for her and your life does depend on it, so you give a mute nod and let her lead the way. If you desperately try to battle the sudden nervousness that's taken hold of you during the walk there, you'll take that secret with you to the grave.

Bela seems almost in a hurry to get to her bedroom. Her long strides are a struggle to keep up with, until she stops before a large, decorated door.

The infuriating woman disappears inside, rubbing her arms when she probably thinks you aren't looking. The thing is, it's not even that cold. Compared to the rest of the castle, nevermind the conditions you grew up in, her room is warm.

And it smells like her perfume. And everything is as neatly arranged as you expected, even the heavy covers on her queen-sized bed, which you immediately avert your eyes from.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Rhiannon...

You turn around and tend to the fire while she sits on the foot of her bed, all but shivering.

“Is this warm enough?” you question when you're done.

“Nothing is warm enough.” she hisses low under her breath. You wonder why it is she looks like she's dying of frostbite. Your skin is practically flushed.

Bela crosses the room in a flash, nearly hugging the fireplace. Its heat seems to relax her somewhat because she no longer looks like a feral cat when she faces you.

“Come here.”

Unsure of what she wants, you approach. Bela looks you up and down for a moment... then takes your hand in her gloved one, placing it on the side of her chilled neck.

“Oh, you're so warm~” she breathes out.

Gradually, she gets greedier with that warmth, pulling you nearer, until you are practically tucked in her arms. Her head lowers to the crook of your neck and stays there.

The last time you had a woman hold you like this... you don't even remember when it was. Years ago that seem like ages, certainly. The lovers you had flings with at your small town weren't interested in cuddling before or after you had both blown off some much needed steam.

It feels... nice. Way too nice.

Nicer still for the following moments, filled with quiet that's broken only by the sound of crackling wood.

“Your pulse is quick.” It's different to have her voice right by your ear.

It does things to you, when your body hasn't even completely calmed from the way she pinned you to the wall, earlier. You wonder if she knows what she's doing. Of the effect she has on you.

Bela's lips graze over the spot her teeth have marked few times prior, right where your artery kicks against your skin.

“You smell delicious.”

“Bela— I really should get back to work.” you say, breathless. If you don't go right now your hormones will do the thinking for you. You already feel the urge to rub your thighs together.

“Really? Who do you work for?” she whispers into your ear. Okay, maybe Cassandra isn't the only sadistic daughter...

You allow yourself to indulge for just a moment, running your nails up her arms until you hook them at her solid biceps. “You want me to say that I work for you?”

You nibble at the curve of her jawline for good measure, feeling her muscles harden under your hands. Oh, but this is so addictive.

“Will it turn you on to hear that?” Such a dangerous game you're playing, yet those have always been your favorite.

Bela's eyes are swirling pools of gold-rimmed black when she pulls back to regard you. The animalistic thirst in their depths is terrifying, though it affects you in ways pure terror doesn't. There's something very wrong with you, you realize, if your instinct is telling you to run and your body wants her to pin you again.

“Say it.”

You give her a challenging little smirk. “Make me.”

On one hand, you do get what you wanted, Bela's hand on your neck pushing you down into her mattress, which is as comfortable as it looks. On the other, you also know there's no turning back from this line you're crossing. You could end up regretting this for the rest of your life, however long –actually, however short— that turns out to be.

“Say it, Rhiannon.” It would help your chances of survival if she were any less glorious perched above you like this.

“Umm...” You draw your hand up the tight fit of your bodies, eliciting a tiny hiss from her in the process, to curl your finger at her choker, pulling her further down, lip to lip. “Say what?”

Bela growls, but you pull her into a kiss that's all fangs and heat. You try not to cut yourself on the sharp inscissors, yet an edge catches on your lower lip and she sucks on the beading red like you're the world's finest wine.

Flies are buzzing over her back for a moment, before she gets herself under control. She holds your hips down the next time you try to move against her.

Amidst your touching and clawing, her thigh moves between your legs. Bucking into her is reflex on your part, already so wet you can feel your underwear sticking to you. Bela rocks back against you once, at just the right force, too, moaning.

She breaks your liplock right after and props herself on a forearm, breathing heavily.

“Rhiannon—”

“Don't tell me to stop now, I don't think I can.” you admit, chest heaving. You've been under so much stress since you started working in the castle and you need that release here and now to feel sane again.

The pressure of Bela's fingers at your waist eases. You don't know if that is a sign to continue, so you give an experimental roll into her. The way her pretty eyes fall shut and brows draw together from the pleasure will probably be burned into your memory forever.

This isn't how you thought you'd be spending your shift, it isn't what your wet dreams may have conjured as your first time with her, though it is all you can both manage in the state you're in.

Quiet gasps and breathy whines fill the room, over the sound of the flames. You grind off on each other's thigh to that blinding peak of pleasure and eagerly fall over it.

Colors fade to white. Thoughts evaporate. Everything is searing satisfaction for a while.

Once the world stops quaking and the all-encompassing euphoria subsidies, however...

Shame creeps in.

It is an old friend you're reuniting with, the feeling you've disappointed your family, somehow –sullied their beliefs or their dreams of your future, maybe— except it's ten times worse, now.

Maybe aroused you wasn't thinking of the after, but it sure is hitting you like a brick to the face. Maybe you didn't even think there would be an after. Maybe part of you was content with that scenario.

Bela seems to be dealing with her own demons, on her side next to you, yet a thousand miles away.

You don't know what to say, so you think it may be best not to speak at all. You sit up, planning to leave, but then your eye catches her face and something in you breaks.

Your fingers guide a wavy lock of blonde hair off her attractive jawline, before falling to your side.

Bela's hand comes to lay on your elbow, pausing your retreat. “Wait.” she says.

You try to sit still as she rises and opens her wardrobe, searching for something within it. That is when you notice the angry red clawmarks –the pain is just rounding its ugly head to say hello— on your side and the several tears of your shirt.

Bela rejoins you with a neatly folded button-up of her own. “Take it.” she speaks, quieter than usual.

The fabric feels amazing in your hand, smooth and satiny. Despite how you're feeling, your lips curl into a soft little smile at the gesture.

After you exit Bela's bedroom, you get changed in a nearby empty chamber. You adjust your tousled hair, you compose yourself before your return to your station.

And if some of the others notice the shirt you're wearing is too high quality to be anything given to the maids, they do not comment on it.

Several sets of eyes just narrow in the dark.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch. 9

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8

'I’ll see you later', she said.

But 'later' never comes.

After the days that have passed, it doesn’t look like it will, either. Your schedule is changed to working the day shift, permanently. When you ask about the change, the Grand Chambermaid tells you it is a direct order from Lady Alcina.

A few months ago, you would consider it a gift from heaven. The morning shift is absolutely safe and maids trip over themselves in happiness to get it for however long. It means the daughters are asleep and the halls are quiet; that there is no danger of blood drawn over the slightest misstep.

But you are not happy. If anything, it feels like there is a thorn lodged in the back of your throat, hurting you from within.

Keep your head down. Do your job. Map every nook and cranny of the castle. You repeat the same words to yourself to give you a driving force, a sense of purpose… yet it is not escaping that your mind reels right back to.

It’s her.

It’s the way she would pop out of nowhere, going “rah!” just to get your blood pumping, then break into little giggles before gluing her body to yours, to bask in your warmth. The way she would fidget when she couldn’t keep still. Her quiet laughs when something genuinely amused her. Her cool touch. Her voice. Her breathy gasps and hooded eyes in the dark above you.

The time you despised Cassandra seems so distant now it may as well have been a different life. She is —perhaps always will be— many things you should detest. But she hasn’t been any of them around you for so long.

The initial cuts on you turned to scratches, then to simply the drag of her dark-painted nails over your skin. She stopped terrorizing the other maids. Her time in the dungeons below the castle diminished.

There were times when you were laying in bed together that you even considered the playful girl there with you had the potential be someone you could see yourself love.

From what you hear some of the maids whisper… that girl is no more.

At first, you don’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

Until you see one of the girls —Valia, if memory serves—downing one painkiller after the other and clutching at her bandaged chest during breakfast. And you make the mistake of asking what happened.

“This is all your fault!” she snaps and swings her hand to hit you, but you stop her and pin the limb down, rattling the table.

All eyes in the room shift to you.

“Calm yourself.” you warn her.

“She wasn’t like this before! What did you do to displease her and have her take it out on us, huh?!” she demands, tears in her eyes.

Then you understand. Cassandra did this to her.

As the older maids come to separate you, taking her away and trying to soothe her, you find your appetite is gone. You take your leave from the room and get to work an hour earlier than you’re supposed to.

It isn’t easy when every glance at a window reminds you of her scream, or when every flying insect that enters your peripheral brings forth the image of her body breaking apart from the cold.

-

-

You don’t notice how long you’ve been working for, until your surroundings are positively bathed in shadows. When you look out the nearest window, the sun is nowhere to be found in the sky.

Oh, no. You start to stress. You should have left ages ago.

Hurried steps take you through hallways you know the daughters don’t frequent as much. It is the long way around to your room, but distance is the least of your worries.

A familiar laugh from the other end of the corridor sends every attempt to calm your nerves right into the trash.

You are suddenly overcome with the urge to say her name, to see her, to make sure she’s alright so you can erase the image of her form crumbling from your mind.

But.

There is a reason Alcina had you working the day shift. And Cassandra would have come to see you if she wanted to. It’s not a pretty thought, but reality usually isn’t. You’ve come to terms with that from a very young age.

So you bite your tongue and keep walking, eyes fixed on the carpet. Part of you is relieved to hear Daniela’s giggle follow her sister’s voice. Cassandra can focus on her and pass you by like she does the decorations around –which, considering the past days, is probably all you were worth to her, anyway.

The distance between you gradually diminishes…

You’ve almost passed her by when Cassandra stops. At least you know her well enough to brace for it.

The next instant, nails are digging through the skin of your biceps and your back is pinned, hard, against the wall. You gasp but you’re too proud to cry out. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“I thought mother had you working during the day.”

There’s ice in her voice as she says it, though her eyes have a strange look about them you’d almost describe as melancholy. You know how they light up at the prospect of hunting and killing. This isn’t it.

“Forgive me, Lady Cassandra. I lost track of time.” you reply back. An accusation you can't quite erase is adrift somewhere in your tone.

Her lips twist. She rips your shirt and opens bleeding cuts on your flesh with how harshly her nails pull out of you. The force shoves you sideways, into the faint alcove of a shut window.

Her hand comes to your nape and traps your head there. You can feel her entertain the idea to squeeze harder. Perhaps hurt you enough for everything that ever was between you to completely die. And still your body, the worst traitor of all, welcomes the feel of her breath by your ear when she leans in.

“How come you haven’t used it yet?” she asks. “You know our weakness now, Alexia.”

And she’s right, isn’t she.

How come you haven’t used it to escape? You know it’s below zero degrees outside. Certainly, you could make up an excuse to yourself about the winged monsters lurking around the castle or that you may not make it to the village with that much snow. But that’s all these are. Excuses.

“Come on, the window is right here.” Cassandra hisses and forces your hand to wrap around the handle. “Open it.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela take tiny steps to the side, to avoid the blast of cold should you indeed decide you want them to feel what you feel. “Uhh… Cassandra…?” she says, quietly.

And suddenly you see red for reasons that have nothing to do with the sharp fucking sting on your arms. You can’t contain the anger that bursts out of you like lava from a volcano—

You jerk back with all your strength, actually managing to move her a step away.

“Maybe you get off on it but I sure as hell don’t hurt the people I care about!” Even when they don’t care back.

You’re certainly no stranger to the feeling.

Cassandra freezes up. Daniela’s eyes flit between the two of you like she’s debating calling out for either Bela or her mother for help, before the storm brewing in the air really fucks something up.

Cassandra’s hand shoots forward and closes, tight, around your throat. She presses close, close enough for you to feel the phantom caress of her mouth over yours as she speaks;

“If you don’t want to hurt me, make sure I don’t see you again. Because if bleeding you out is the only way I can be with you… I may take that deal.” Her fingers tremble on your jugular.

Then she’s gone, dragging her sister along with her. You can’t breathe any easier even without her cutting off your airway.

“…so…. does this mean I can have Alexia now?” Daniela’s voice faintly reaches your ears from down the corridor.

Cassandra only grabs her by the nape and pushes her into one of the rooms in response.

-

-

Crimson-red travels down your body along with the waterdrops and rolls around the drain in hypnotic swirls. The cuts on your arms would hurt if your heart wasn’t already in pieces.

But who is there but yourself to blame? You knew what you were getting into was no wise idea. You knew you were fucked when it stopped being about your survival. You knew. Yet you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more with her.

And now every single one of your issues and insecurities rises up like a tsunami ready to sweep you with its force and crush you amidst the wreckage.

It seems to be an inescapable curse in your life that everyone you care for leaves you in shambles, one way or another.

It started with your father, when he abandoned you and your mother for a wealthy woman, never to return. Continued with her bringing you to this superstitious, shitty village and soon after leaving you due to an illness. The first girl you fell for fled one night without telling you a single thing. Only a half-assed letter was dropped behind for you.

And now Cassandra discards you, as well, like a broken toy she cannot stand to see yet stubbornly refuses to let go of. You are left bleeding inside and outside, feeling more and more like how she used to call you;

A plaything.

The word never quite bothered you, but now it makes something inside you boil.

Like everyone else, Cassandra has left.

So why should you be the one to stay?

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.5 (NSFW!)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

'Cassandra's favorite', the other maids call you.

You can't tell if they mean it as a good or a bad thing. Hell, you can't even tell which of the two it really is.

Being her 'favorite' does not make you immune to harm in any way; bruises litter your shoulders and sides from when she grabs you too forcefully and cuts from her nails sting at your neck and stomach, renewed each time she comes to take a kiss.

None of that existed back when you were something of zero interest to her. On the other hand, she's told you several times you're 'a thing of beauty' --her thing of beauty-- and she won't let anything ruin a natural piece of art.

If you know anything about Cassandra, it is that she takes art very seriously. Your interpretation of the word greatly varies from hers, you're sure, but it doesn't change the fact she won't easily raise a sickle on you.

Cassandra won't break you. She won't let Daniela do so, either. Bela doesn't even care to hurt you. It means you're safe for now...

Unless Lady Dimitrescu decides you're best taken away from her daughter. Permanently. You don't dare meet her eyes, but you can feel them on you, scrutinizing, every night at dinner.

You're pretty sure she knows.

The thought sits heavy in your mind while you're cleaning bloodied steps off a corridor at three in the small hours of the morning, along with another maid. Adella is a quiet and hardworking one; the two of you make a good team and you know you'll be done in record time.

But it only takes a single moment for everything to go wrong.

Adella is hastily walking back to you with a bucket of fresh water in hand when you hear a different set of steps approach from the side. You make to warn her, but it's already too late.

The collision happens at the turn where the two passageways meet. As soon as you see black robes dripping wet you pray to whichever God will listen for mercy.

Because Cassandra has not been in a good mood all night and she is not the understanding type regardless.

Adella gasps and shakingly backs away, a waterfall of apologies spilling from her lips. Cassandra rolls her neck and draws her sickle, advancing on her slowly. She looks terrifying.

"Don't move now." she orders.

And you just- can't watch this. You don't know why, but the realization you cannot hits you like a speeding truck. You can't stand there while the the woman you frequently kiss cuts away at a girl you know is as good and compassionate as a human under your circumstances can possibly get.

You react.

Before you can even think how impossibly stupid you're being, you drop the mop in your hands and dash forward, crashing into Cassandra's form. Your right arm wraps around her waist and your left grips at her wrist like a vice. Your heart is pounding. You don't even know what you're saying;

"Cassandra, no! Please. Don't." Cold and rigid as she is, it may as well be a statue you're holding. "Cassandra, stop. Please." Once impulse dies down, you realize you've just signed your death wish for two seconds of playing hero.

And you thought you were smarter than that. Ha. But maybe, just maybe, part of you wants to die, so long as it's quick and painless.

With Cassandra, though, you doubt it. Especially with how lethal she sounds when she says:

"You. Disappear." You hear, rather than see, Adella scurrying off for her life. "As for you..."

You only register a blur, nausea, cold nails piercing at your neck, over already existing marks. You are shoved into the nearest wall so powerfully you can't breathe for all of ten seconds. It's a wonder you don't hear any cracks from within your body.

Cassandra is on you, her fingers harsh on your chin and breath chilly on your lips. "Good pets don't bark against their own masters. What made you so bold, hm?"

You don't answer, too busy summoning your mental strength for what comes next. The way her eyes and the lines of her pretty face have hardened, she looks nothing like the flirty girl who comes to steal kisses from you at random times during the night.

"Maybe I've been too nice to you. The first time you call my name and it's for some other maid?"

She looks like she wants to let out a bitter laugh, break something and slice you into stripes simultaneously. And then you realize; Cassandra is jealous.

It doesn't get any worse than that.

"Maybe I should make sure you never say anything again." The corner of her lips curls up in dark amusement as she talks. "You don't talk much, anyway."

Well. She did say she wouldn't let anyone ruin your looks. Never promised anything about what's on the inside.

You're shaking, even if her grasp doesn't leave much room to do so. Your brain is restlessly trying to come up with something to get you out of this mess-

"I'm of way more use to you with my tongue intact." you somehow manage to speak without stuttering. It makes you wonder where the hell this confidence came from.

Cassandra stills for a moment. Her grip eases the slightest amount, probably from surprise.

You wonder what the hell you're even doing, yourself, when you bring your hands to her sides and lean in, to the curve of her nice jawline. You've never kissed her neck before, but you remember from the times you've given her a massage that she's very sensitive around it.

Cautiously, you press your mouth to the soft spot under her ear.

She smells so good and her skin feels so smooth you're not exactly forcing yourself to kiss her. If you're going to be mutilated anyway, the part of you that must be severely messed up muses, you may as well take some pleasure for yourself beforehand. Who knows, it may change her mind along the way.

So you lick her there and suck over her faint pulse. You don't get any stimuli from her, at first.

Until her hand trails from your shoulder to your nape, urging you harder against her. It's the green light to keep going.

You put all your skill into it as you lavish her neck and collarbones with open-mouthed kisses. She's loose and moaning low in her throat now.

You can't tell why, but the sound echoes right though your adrenaline-induced system, tickles down your spinal cord to pool low in your stomach. You either had a kink for danger you never knew of, or you developed one in the castle.

Whatever the case, your fingers are working on the buttons of her outfit and she doesn't seem like stopping you has even crossed her mind.

When the robes barely hang onto her shoulders, Cassandra maneuvers you to the closest room, shuts the door and presses you against it. Hard. Your lips slide together hungrily. You taste wine on her tongue.

At this point, your hands are the only thing supporting her outfit on her. She looks too fucking sexy for words like this, half-undressed, lipstick smeared, so turned on and ready for you. But you also want to see more of her, so you let the black fabric drop.

She's getting impatient, though. Being more vocal, tugging your hand to the apex of her legs.

"Cassandra." you moan when you push the midnight lace of her panties aside and touch her. She's so wet.

Her mouth falls open in a soundless gasp, brows drawn softly. "Oh, you're lucky I like my name on your lips." she says, breathless.

You did start this trying to prove to her how useful your tongue can be attached to your body, however... so it's only fair that's how you finish it.

Finish her.

Cassandra looks dazed and confused when you kneel in front of her, but it's quickly replaced with a broken moan when you take her into your mouth. You revel in every single gasp you coax out of her, every minuscule shake of her perfect thighs.

She bites into her own hand when she reaches her peak, nails leaving four parallel marks on the wall.

You're gentlewomanly enough to pull her outfit up for her while she's coming down from her high. Your gaze takes its sweet time admiring the contours of her chest as you button it closed. She really is the most attractive girl you've ever seen, if you somehow don't take into consideration her body count.

"Good?" you ask when she opens her pretty eyes to look at you.

"It's not cute to be smug, plaything." Cassandra makes a soft grimace at you, though you can see the lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lip. "But. I suppose your tongue has its uses to me, after all."

You gently push off the door to let her exit at her leisure. The movement makes you realize you won't really be able to move tomorrow, with how sore you already are.

To your surprise, Cassandra takes a moment longer in the room.

She turns back to you and raises her hands to your torso, then carefully adjusts your wrinkled shirt. Her long fingers smooth over the imperfections she caused...

And you don't know why after everything the two of you just did, it's this that feels the most intimate.

The same digits brush over your throat as she pulls away.

By the time your mind starts working right again, Cassandra is already gone. Absently, you trace over the weeping scratches on your neck.

-

-

Later, at the main hall of the castle...

"Oh, boo, look who's late again." Daniela rolls her eyes at Cassandra's fashionably delayed arrival.

"Surprise, surprise." Bela smirks, casually leaned against the side of the fireplace.

"Are you two done being insufferable or should I come by later?" Cassandra asks.

"And scar our ears and minds with another round of your 'oh's and 'ah's, sister? I think not." Daniela comments.

Bela raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Had a nice time?"

"You two have very active imaginations, you know? Tells a lot about you." Cassandra chuckles. "She was just giving me a massage. But do go on. Be thirsty. I can wait."

Daniela and Bela share a look, thrown off their game by the nonchalance.

Cassandra hides a smirk under her hood and steps out first, into the peerless dark.