"Draga mea," Alcina breathes, looking over the barely surviving body of her mortal love. Morning light streaming in paints a picture even more grim than the darkness.
Catalena lays in an enveloping nest of satin pillows. Her body shivers from the cold despite the warmth of the room. Mercifully the pain pulled her into an unconscious state while Donna and Miranda sewed her many lacerations closed. Her once angelic hair has been burned, ripped, and cut to her head. Contusions of deep purple and red dot her from head to toe.
Both hands and both feet are cocooned in bandages, beneath it both have deep, festering infections from the rusty shackles they used to chain her. The skin near her collarbones has nearly been worn to the bone in a matter of hours from struggling against the manacle around her neck. Reaching up her legs to her hips are healing burns glistening with balm and ointment.
Silence consumes the room. The castle. All of the mountains. But especially deep is the silence of the bedroom.
"Mother," Bela murmurs. Her sisters were too afraid to approach their mother and she herself is expecting to dodge out of the reach of her rage.
"What is it?" Alcina's voice is tight and comes out in a growl.
"Uncle Moreau and aunt Donna are here. Quentin has summoned the lycans. We're itching to raize the village," Bela says, rage prickling through her veins as well. It wasn't just Lady Dimitrescu's heart Catalena had won over after all. This is the first time Bela has seen the extent of her new mother's injuries. It's both stomach turning and enraging.
Bela goes on, "We just thought you should have the right to do as much damage as you want first."
An answer isn't immediate. Instead Alcina tenderly runs a single finger over a rare patch of uninjured skin. Catalena shivers more violently.
Alcina rises and the back of her dress strains as her muscles flex beneath the fabric.
"Alcina,"
"Catalena."
Catalena's good eye flutters slightly. A broken smile twitches up in one corner of her mouth and she lifts her fingers. Alcina rips her gloves off to tenderly take her hand.
"Stay, please."
"I'm not going anywhere," Alcina whispers, "Bela, send them back. They can do what they like, none of your sisters are to leave the castle. Or the furball."
"Yes mother."
The door shuts quietly as Bela leaves.
"Furball?" Catalena rasps out, wincing.
"My son in law," The words are forced and muttered and Alcina shudders, "Quentin, Iulia's husband."
Quiet sinks in. Alcina watches as Catalena's eyes take in the room, particularly noting the coat rack being used to hold up her IV pouches and the drapes pulled over all but one window.
"I'll be alright love," Catalena's accent has never been thicker, which means she has no extra effort to expend covering it up.
Alcina's breath comes out in a shudder. She tenderly kisses Catalena's hand. The one with two different fluid IV's taped to it.
"Catalena, I know the circumstances are the opposite of ideal but I have to know."
Catalena almost cocks her head.
"Will you marry me?"
"Course I will, silly countess. I wouldn't marry 'nybody else."
Guilt fills Alcina's chest. It's a twisting, slimy sensation like eels. She has her answer, so she won't feel so tortured if in the end Catalena's life does slip away. As usual, she is tending to her own needs. To compound that there's nothing she can do for her love.
"You're going to need a backless dress," Catalena coughs, struggling for several moments. The coughing moves her whole body and with nothing to manage the pain Alcina expects her to be pulled under. Instead Catalena shivers, clutching Alcina's cool fingers desperately.
"Of course," Alcina murmurs, "Whatever for?"
"Fer the wedding. Yer not gettin' out of this now," Catalena rasps out, "Water."
Looking around Alcina only finds the water Miranda used to sterilize the instruments. Without her lifting it a cup lifts and dips in, gathering water and floating with a slight wobble across the room.
Catalena is sitting up in bed. She takes the cup in both hands to drink it.
"Catalena!"
"Quit yer whining. I've survived worse," Catalena hisses.
No matter how Catalena insists she is fine Alcina lays her back down on her throne of pillows and ensures she's neither too warm nor too cold. Once she's lying down again Catalena yawns. Her eyelid droops and she reaches for Alcina.
"Kiss me."
"As long as you don't get up again," Alcina dips down. Feeling Catalena's fingers tangle in her hair she's reminded just how precious this is. Their connection.
When they break apart Catalena still clings to Alcina's neck. She shudders and breathes so quietly only the countess' superior predatory hearing can detect it at all.
"I'm scared."
"Draga mea," Alcina purrs in her sweetest tone. She kisses the tip of Catalena's nose gently. Even more tenderly she cups her cheek and smiles, exposing all of her sharp teeth, "No one and nothing will hurt you here. Not if I have to level the mountains."
YOU ARE READING
The Love of Lady Dimitrescu ((Completed))
Hayran Kurgu(( +18 Chapters are marked )) There's an old saying that it's lonely at the top. Lady Dimitrescu has all the power she could ever want. A thriving business. Easy access to maidens to sustain herself and her daughters. She has her lovely daughters. B...
