A Thief's Tale [lady dimitrescu x fem!reader] [COMPLETE]

Chapter 8

warning(s): blood and torture
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"I-I can explain, m-my ladies!" You stuttered out, cursing yourself for doing so.

"You can explain, after your punishment." Daniela giggled and your blood ran cold, gloved hands grabbing your wrists.

In the blink of an eye, you were in a cell and chained to the wall by your wrists, your feet just barely dangling above the ground. Your gaze lifted to land on the three, immediately shifting to Cassandra only to have you flinch and look down, a frown imprinting on your features.

"Please, my ladies... let me explain first?" Your request fell on deaf ears as Daniela raised her sickle, slicing into your arm.

You didn't react to the pain or the burning feeling that followed, nor did you react when she decided to have a little taste of your blood. All you did was simply stare at the floor, ignoring the growls and hisses from the three at your lack of a reaction. You only reacted when Bela embedded her sickle into your abdomen, a low groan of pain leaving you as you tried to even your breathing once more.

"Now we have a reaction!" Bela chirped, leaning close to your ear. "We prefer when you're vocal, you know. You don't want to anger us."

"Hm?" You chuckled weakly, gaze lazily drifting to her. "You mean to tell me I haven't done that already? What about if I call your mother a MILF?"

A scream ripped through when she violently twisted her sickle before ripping it out, making the three laugh maniacally, spurring them on to leave more cuts covering your body. Soft groans and whimpers would occasionally leave you until they grew bored, finally stopping their torture after what felt like hours.

"If you ever say something like that again," Cassandra hissed, glaring at you with a newfound hatred. "We won't hesitate to bottle you up."

The other two left instantly after that, Cassandra staying behind to keep glaring at you. With a quiet laugh, you locked eyes with her, ignoring the burning pain all over your body as you spoke, your throat raw.

"Sorry, lady Cassandra. I simply speak the truth — even if it does result in my death."

"Why do or say something that will make us kill you?" She growled out, her glare filling with other, unreadable, emotions.

"Because," You stated before coughing, ignoring the blood that came out when you did. "I'm not afraid of dying."

Her gaze hardened after that, a frown stamped on her face as she let you down, leaving the cell and closing it behind her. You simply leaned against the wall, forcing a smile as your eyes grew heavy.

"Oh and, lady Cassandra." You called, making her lift a brow in your direction. "About why I was sitting at the piano... I had another memory come up."

That earned her attention, her gloved hands gripping the cell bars as curiosity filled her golden orbs.

"Before I tell you... Do you mind getting me supplies so I can treat my wounds?"

She blinked wide-eyed at you, her lips parting to say something before her gaze scrutinized your bloody form. Cassandra disappeared in her swarm of flies, leaving you alone for a moment.

Can't believe they nearly killed me for calling their mother a MILF... Well, I guess I can believe it. I'd do the same if anyone called Sprout a DILF.

Your attention refocused on the cell door as Cassandra opened it, setting a box of medical supplies near you before sitting down, patting the area in front of her. Without even questioning it, you sat in front of her and let her take your arm, watching as she cleaned your wounds.

"Speak or I make these worse." She threatened, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"R-right..." You cleared your throat and watched her again, the memory coming back to you. "About a decade ago my father brought me to a castle of a high ranking vampire. He told me to wait in the lounge for him — said the meeting wouldn't take long and they had even left books for me to read."

"Well, a few maids entered the lounge and started cleaning, mentioning a music room that wasn't too far away from the room we were in. Something in me was drawn to that idea — to the music room — and so I started wandering around. I eventually found it, turns out the maids were lying. It was a lot farther from the lounge than they had said which meant it was dangerous for me to search for it alone. The vampire my father had been visiting had a younger sister who was... a lot like you and your sisters."

Cassandra glanced up and locked eyes with you when you said that, a curious gleam in her eyes. That's when you noticed she had properly cleaned, stitched, and bandaged both of your arms.

"She was bloodthirsty, would torture and kill anyone that wandered the halls alone. I think the only reason she didn't go after me was because her older sibling was arranging a deal with my father... Anyway, when I entered the room I was immediately drawn to the piano and even though I heard my father call for me, that didn't snap me out of my trance."

Cassandra's hands gripped your tattered uniform, her eyes locking with yours and asking for permission. When you nodded at her, she simply ripped the rest of it from your body, making blood rush to your cheeks — which you quickly dismissed once her eyes trained on your wounds rather than anything else.

"I managed to climb onto the bench and press a singular key before he found me. I thought I was in so much trouble for disobeying him..." You chuckled out, wincing slightly in pain. "He was just relieved I was still alive. That's the first time I ever heard him play anything — and the first time he ever promised something other than making sure I'd live a long and happy life..."

You glanced off to the side after that, a frown on your face as you remembered his promise to you. It's not his fault he can't save you right now, it's the council's fault. They took his sight. They forced him out of his castle. They hunted you. Your current situation may not have been caused by them, but they were certainly the reason you were currently stuck here.

"What song did he play?" Cassandra asked softly, wrapping bandages around your stomach and torso.

"Gymnopédie No. 3." You whispered out, remembering the sound of the keys and how each note tugged at a different part of your soul.