The Castle's Cleaning Lady - Twisted Wonderland Reader insert

Chapter 35: Dad? Plural gurl

Okay, this chapter is the longest so far for literally no reason other than Crowley rambles a fuck ton but somehow what he says is important to the blot - I mean plot. SADLY.

It was painful to concentrate, with her surroundings swirling around like sand in a storm and the tickle of dry grass against her leg. She could only recall a frenzy of lions, hippos, gazelles, and animals of all shapes and sizes, bowing to the newborn lion cub, the Prince, before she gasped.

Falling, she was falling. She couldn't see, her hair billowing in front of her from the momentum. Then she blinked and suddenly she was floating in an empty, dark space with no appearance of ground or walls. There was nothing at all with the exception of a green gleam of a blinding spotlight, cast over her.

What was happening? Where was she?

It was all too sudden to react, to frown, to gasp: flashes of black, twisted silhouettes clawing towards her from outside the light. Painful wails of people and children, calling out in agony in a sick cacophony of anguish. She couldn't see them writhe, their faces concealed in the darkness, but she could hear them. Begging for their mercy. She clamped her hands over her ears, but they became louder.

And then she saw it.

A looming black figure, dripping blot, its silhouette illuminated by glowing green smoke.

[Name] tried everything to focus. Who was this figure? Was this Riddle consumed by Blot? She couldn't think of who else it could've been. She couldn't make out the features on its face.

Finding herself unable to speak and eyes trembling within their sockets, the figure raised a long black sceptre, the tapered point aimed toward hers, pronouncing words forever ingrained in her memory. Her hands wrenched forcefully from her ears to listen. All too loud and clear.

"You belong to me."

And that's how [Name] had awoken, shooting up.

Regaining her breaths that were more like gasps, she winced at her sweat-dampened sheets, a clear damp outline of where her body had been. Surely that wasn't healthy or normal. But really nothing about that dream was normal.

"What... was that?" She said out loud, cradling her pounding head. "Also... Gross."

"Nngonya... How's that... Do you understand the power of the Great Grim..." Meanwhile, her partner in crime was still snoozing away, talking mindlessly in his sleep. If Ramshackle was on fire and there were firefighters shouting, and sirens blasting, Grim would still be deep in his REM cycle. How he hadn't noticed her was beyond her and these nightmares were becoming frequent too.

Still, she sighed with a smile, relieved he hadn't seen her in such distress. She had yet to tell him the severity of her amnesia, only having revealed this information to her dads. She didn't know how to bring it up to her friends, she didn't want to worry them or burden them. Conflicted. The most prominent word to describe her situation.

So, just for now, she'd appreciate the moment - rubbing his soft ear between her thumb and finger. Her heart blossomed as he purred in his sleep, mumbling sleeptalk happily.

After that dream, she kissed her own chance to sleep again goodbye. So, mustering her willpower, she made a beeline downstairs to make herself breakfast before Vargas's training.

"At least nothing else can scare me-"

[Name] fell silent. Chills fluttered on her nape at the sight down Ramshackle's hallway.

At first, she assumed it was one of the ghosts playing a prank on her - as they usually did. It had to be. Materialising as an ominous silhouette of a 6' ft man at the end of her hallway in the morning darkness was probably one of the best pranks they had done yet. It had actually made her blood run cold...