#to an old woman who's lungs are full of fluid. who can't breathe. and thinks she's dying.

[deeisace]

Fucking christ

[txciaz]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[yekulan-dothkah]

… I Can Do Better

Yekulan sat at her desk, toiling over another piece of paper, but this time with a brush instead of a pen or quill. What she dipped the tip in was not a bottle of blood either, but instead  into the palm of her hand where a familiar viscous green fluid has pooled slightly in her mutated hand; a dribble leading from her wrist which bore a knife wound that had already sealed. It was her blood technically, just from a difference source, her arm held a sticky sap and she wanted to know if it would hold the same effect.

"There… Now we'll know if it's just blood, or if it's the blood of living things included." She mumbled, grabbing a cloth to wipe up her green hand before holding it over the sigil to give it Aether. Once more Aether slowly drifted from her hand down to the paper, and thankfully was absorbed by the sigil. Yekulan could not have let out a heavier sigh of relief when she pulled her hand away and looked down at the glowing sigil, ward ready to protect.

Reaching over to the side drawer of her desk, she pulled out a white crystal, one her hand eagerly sapped the energy from and leaving it a dim husk. "That's better, now I think I can stand again." Yeku gave a small chuckle as thought it was a joke while she braced herself to stand, finding her strength returned thanks to the crystal she drained. "Now to test."

Humming away to herself she placed the piece of paper on a slab of stone and reached for a dagger, bringing the blade down abruptly only to find the ward holding, and exceptionally strong at that. "Fascinating… The Aether didn't even crack or bend this time, maybe it is because my mutated arm's blood holds more Aether in it on it's own, in addition to what I added, even a small one becomes formidable..." Quickly grabbing a proper quill from it's resting place beside a jar of ink and eagerly dipping it to start scribbling her findings in a blank page of her book. "Now I know the theory holds, I wonder what creatures hold more magical energy in them than my arm? I've heard dragons blood is potent, but I'd hate to start another war. Maybe I can find a merchant with blood from what is left of Nidhogg's brood, surely the dragon's Ishgard who they made peace with could stand for that?"

"Yeku?"

The voice was familiar, but it's prompt appearance nearly made Yeku fall out of her chair. "Yes! Altan what is it?"

Altan couldn't help but give a small chuckle before answering. "I managed to secure a trade with a merchant that has access to what you wanted, payment is on the way to him and we're just waiting for him to receive it before he starts mailing the package to us. He assured me he would put it on hold until he received the Gil, and send it as soon as he can after."

Giving a nod, Yeku looked up from her studies to smile at Altan. "Thank you, I know you're not too keen on me raising a blade again; but I need something to defend myself with, and to help with the corruption in the Shroud when I return, its grown stronger since the war started."

"I know, it doesn't make me any happier, but I won't let you go out there unprepared this time. He assured me if worst comes to worst, the sword could cleave a roe in half with enough strength behind the swing. I also got you a surprise, some armor that should also help you fit in when you're in the city; not that your clothes are bad but… They might think you're a beggar or something bad with how you like to tatter the ends." Altan's hand resting on Yekulan's shoulder as she spoke, giving her partner a small squeeze of concern.

"You know it's tradition." Yeku replied sounding rather irritated.

"You know it's barbaric." Altan jested back.

"It's our culture! Our history! I know Eorzea has been good to both of us, but that does not justify forgetting who we are!" Yekulan obviously upset as she stood up from her chair and took a step away from Altan as she began to raise her voice.

"You forgot who you were! You forgot everything!" Altan quickly becoming invested and visibly upset as she yelled back.

"You know I regret that! It was a mistake I have learned from!" A right foot forward and a finger thrusted forward to point angrily at her partner.

"You think I don't regret helping you forget?! I had to meet your eyes every day and tell myself you didn't love me anymore! That you were different! That you weren't some century year old warrior anymore, reborn after dying yet again!" Tears were starting to build in the corners of Altan's eyes, her voice beginning to crack.

"Now I have my memory back; you're going to tell me that all those beliefs and values I have are invalid because of where I live?!" Yekulan yelled with the full force of her lungs back at Altan

"I just want you to be safe! I don't want people to hurt you. I don't want to lose you again." It was the last straw, and with it Altan crumpled to the floor, crying as she covered her face with her hands. "I don't think my heart could handle another break… I've put it back together so many times for you… When you left the tribe, laying there helpless in a coma, when you disappeared at night only to come home covered in blood days later, when you wiped your memory… I can't do it again… I just can't…" The breaks in her speech filled with sniffling and gasps for air.

Yekulan's face shifted from anger to shock as she realized what she had been blind to only moments before. "Altan, I…"

"I know, you didn't know; you never know, you're too thick to realize what's sitting right in front of you sometimes, slapping you in the face. It's not your fault, you can't help it, it's just so frustrating sometimes you can't tell how I feel unless I tell you outright." Altan's crying had softened slightly as she tried to speak through the tears and hard breaths while she collected herself. "Please, I know you mean well; but don't go throwing your life away like you have in your past life for some glorious death in battle. Know when to turn back to see another day, to see me again. Do it for me if not yourself?"

The words left Yekulan's chest aching, they hit hard, and without much remorse for how blind she had been.  "I understand… I promise Altan, I'll come home, alive and breathing. That's what everything I've done has been for. Practicing living in the Shroud on my own off the land. The wards of protection that can block a blade or spell. Training with a sword, the specific weapon I bought; and now your armor. All of this work so I can make sure I will come back in one piece." As Yeku spoke, she noticed Altan slowly pulling herself together, reassured by the words. "I didn't want you to worry, I may not have realized you were already concerned, but I'm not as thick as I used to be." Giving Altan a smile the woman couldn't see, but could obviously feel as the red haired Au Ra let out a small singular laugh.

"I guess even a Dotharl can learn new tricks, so long as it aligns with how stubborn you lot are." Altan's voice was obviously teasing, her words eliciting a laugh from Yekulan and a bright smile.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, I’ll make tea and stoke the fire so we can sit together on the couch.” The warm smile on Yeku’s face as she spoke spreading to Altan.

“That sounds nice...”