Chapter Text
“Lord Beneviento, I hope you take no offense to what I’m about to say,” Mother Miranda spoke in an even tone, back turned to the Lord as she walked a few short paces ahead.
The self-proclaimed prophet of the Black God truly posed an intimidating figure, even from the back. Villagers often referred to her as a “divine entity” or simply “Mother” and Donna was unsure of which of the two was less fitting.
Miranda had many synonymous terms pinned to her name and just as many faces.
Alongside her walked Lord Alcina Dimitrescu and the elegant and supercilious way in which the Lady of the castle normally carried herself seemed to crumble in Miranda’s presence.
“The doll’s decorum is somewhat lacking.”
The statement came as no surprise to Donna who was currently fidgeting with the lace of her dress. Miranda was, of course, speaking of Angie; the young Lord’s most favorable – if not sole – companion. Said doll’s presence was already sorely missed by its owner. Angie was currently in the care of Alcina’s daughters, removed from Miranda’s sight upon their arrival to the castle.
As previously stated, Miranda had many terms pinned to her name, most of them coined by villagers in their admiration of the divine being.
The same could not be said of Angie who – amid one of her outbursts – decided to call Miranda a “slimy, slimy, icky, icky, snail-like hag”. By the time Donna managed to subdue her little friend, the damage had already been done.
It slipped out.
The Lord had been struggling with a severe migraine since earlier that morning which, according to her, was to fault for having such thoughts emerge in the first place. Donna was eager to be anywhere but at that meeting.
Mother Miranda’s insistence on them procuring more test subjects was endlessly tiring and the dollmaker’s frustration came loud and clear through Angie’s voice.
While Lord Heisenberg and Moreau were quick to be dismissed, the other two were asked to stay behind. After the unfortunate event, Miranda invited herself to castle Dimitrescu under the pretense of having to discuss the progress of certain experiments that Alcina and herself were currently conducting.
“The castle would offer a more private setting,” she said. By the time they arrived, Donna had already picked most of her nails to the point of drawing blood.
Miranda’s punishments were rarely swift and even less so just.
“In what respect, if I may, Mother Miranda?” Donna’s chest tightened at the sound of her own voice. It had been a while since she last used it.
“You cannot allow her to continue to speak in your place. As a Lord, you should be more vocal, assertive. I have half a mind to separate the two of you."
It was becoming hard to breathe. She wouldn’t do that now, would she?
“Mother Miranda, Angie might have spoken out of turn, but I trust that Donna will learn how better to control her in due time.”
Alcina rarely spoke against Miranda so freely and the statement came as a surprise to Donna. Still, she was grateful for it. Miranda stopped and turned to face Lady Dimitrescu, allowing Donna a view of their profiles; one seemingly slightly frightened and the other rid of any visible emotion.
“Need I remind you of what a complete waste of resources that wretched thing was?”
She then turned to Donna, voice indifferent, “She has rendered you incompetent in more ways than one. Your complete dependency on that thing ends now and seeing as Alcina is so keen on aiding you, she shall be the one to keep it… for the time being.”
Panic began to rise in the pit of her stomach.
No, no, no, no!
“Mother Miranda, please!” Even with her voice raised, the sound rang silent and distant in her ears.
In an instant, Mother Miranda was but a breath away from Donna’s face, wings spread wide.
The swift motion disrupted the Lord’s veil, revealing a few loose strands of hair.
“You dare question me, child?”
Hard as she might have tried to suppress it, Donna’s entire body now began to shake.
“I apologize, Mother Miranda. I… trust your judgment entirely,” Donna added a moment later and Miranda’s stance softened, wings falling back to their rightful place. Calmly, she raised a hand to the Lord's jaw, stroking it lightly from underneath the veil with the back of her thumb.
Both Lords tensed at the display.
“All is forgiven,” she cooed. “Lady Dimitrescu might have forgotten her manners for a moment, but I trust that she'll manage to insert some into that piece of wood you call a friend, Lady Beneviento.”
“Of course, Mother Miranda.”
“Yes, Mother Miranda.”
Seemingly satisfied, Miranda’s hand slowly retreated from Donna’s jaw.
“Now that that’s settled, I shall take my leave. I have more important matters to attend to."
“Allow me to escort you out, Mother Miranda,” Alcina took the initiative while Donna’s hunched form followed mutely behind the pair. The same carriage that brought them to the castle was still patiently waiting at its gate.
“There is one more thing, I’m afraid.”
Donna dared not ask, a sense of dread washing over her. Luckily for her, Alcina was her saving grace.
“Yes, Mother Miranda?”
“It’s unbecoming to leave one of my own to struggle so. I do not intend on keeping you in that swamp of yours all by your lonesome, Donna. Far from it. Not all of my children are equally strong, as I am well aware. And while both Lord Heisenberg and Moreau can withstand such circumstances, you, my dear, are of a more fragile mind.”
Donna completely shrunk at that. Mother Miranda’s disgust with Moreau was visible in more ways than one and it surfaced at every meeting, mostly in form of absolute dismissal. Though she cared for Salvatore, being ranked more worthless than he made her heart crumble.
“None of that now,” she said, hand waving in false reassurance. “Alcina shares the same weakness; craving companionship. What a tedious and useless need. Almost human, in a way,” she spat. “Contrary to Angie’s case, Lord Beneviento, Alcina’s daughters have to the very least proven their worth through obtaining test subjects.”
Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulders seemed to tense at the mention of her daughters. Miranda continued, voice even, “I am, though, nothing if not merciful. You too shall be allowed a companion, but not in the same capacity as Lord Dimitrescu.”
Turning her attention to Alcina then, she added, “Your daughters are to claim a villager of their choosing, one that they would find suitable for our dear Donna. Consider this a token of appreciation for all of their hard work.”
Donna’s throat contracted at the idea. The thought of the Dimitrescu daughters selecting a companion in her name… dreadful. Awful. Having someone in her manor other than her own creations? Unacceptable!
“Mother Miranda, it is not yet warm enough for the girls to-”
One stern look was enough to put Alcina in her place. It was true. The harsh Romanian winters were unforgiving when it came to the Lady’s daughters.
Donna’s own concerns over how she’d possibly manage such a monumental difference in her life weighted over those that she might have had in regards to the Dimistrescu household. Selfish, perhaps, but losing your only friend and being forced into sharing your family home with a complete stranger was both a suffocating and terrifying concept.
“This individual will report to me on your progress with each meeting of the Lords. I trust that Alcina’s daughters will manage to find someone competent enough for the task ahead. You, Donna, are to find your voice and start behaving as your title commands.”
Despite Mother Miranda presenting such an opportunity as beneficial for Donna, the Lord highly doubted she had her wellbeing in mind when she thought of it.
Was it her wish to simply degrade and prove how pathetic and useless she really was? To put both Alcina and herself in their rightful place beneath her. Regardless of the motivation, one thing was certain: Donna now had nothing.
Her confidante and only friend, now gone.
Though Angie was often used as a means to communicate with others, Donna considered her both a part of her identity and a being of its own.
“Lord Beneviento’s speaking vessel," the villagers would crudely call her when, in reality, she was so much more.
“Do not fret, child," her tone was almost mocking now, taunting Donna, beckoning her to act out. "If you do well, I shall consider returning the wretched thing to you. Alcina in turn will do her part in teaching the little nuisance how to carry herself around those superior to her.”
Lady Dimitrescu was quick to reply, “Of course, Mother Miranda.”
“Tell your daughters that they are to deposit this individual at the Beneviento estate no later than by tomorrow. Oh, and Donna, dear?”
“Yes, Mother Miranda?” Her voice was firmer now, more detached and void of emotion than she’d ever known it to be.
“I expect the numbers of your experiments and reports to rise as well. Should this not be the case, consequences that await are severe.”
“I understand, Mother Miranda. I shall do my best to prove my worth to you. I support our cause.”
“See that you do.”
And with that, the goddess was gone.
Not long after the two Lords went their separate ways, Alcina promising Donna that she will ensure her daughters find a suitable match, – much to the Lord's dismay – as well as that Angie will be well taken care of. Her doll’s wrath and confusion at being left behind could be felt from quite a distance and it unsettled Donna deeply.
---
The Dimitrescu estate truly was a sight to behold, even from afar.
As she made her way back to the place she called home, a particular memory came to mind; that of her fourth visit to the Dimitrescus, when she had made the terrible mistake of arriving unannounced. Having not previously been given any instructions by the Lady of the castle herself, the head maid was rightfully shaken upon seeing the veiled Lord approach its gates.
“I shall inform the Lady at once, Lord Beneviento,” she had said then.
While waiting for Alcina to be informed of her arrival, Donna was offered tea in the parlor. The porcelain cup in her hands shook upon hearing an echo of a scream that seemingly derived from somewhere deep within the hallway behind the closed door. The doll in her lap started to clap with glee as the screams got louder.
Not a moment later, Bela – the eldest of the daughters – came barging in, holding a hysteric maid by the neck and dragging her body violently against the wall.
The maid struggled against the much taller woman, kicking at her with both her hands and feet.
Angie and Lady Beneviento remained unmoving until the latter noticed the poor girl’s hand rise towards them. The maid’s eyes were now incredibly wide - not from shock, but rather from the lack of oxygen, Donna thought.
Bela’s own were now glued to the Lord and before anything could be said or done, the daughter’s fate was decided the moment her mother stepped into the room, rigid at the sight that welcomed her.
Yes. The walls were indeed painted crimson that day.
Castle Dimitrescu truly was a sight to behold.
“Fanculo a tutto,” Donna muttered under her breath as she continued her journey home, feet heavy as she marched through the freshly fallen snow.