Chapter Text
The storm above Castle Dimitrescu crackled with winter thunder, but Alcina hardly noticed. Her glass of blood-red wine swirled in her hand as she chuckled lowly, lips curling into a smirk.
“I dare you to introduce yourself to the new Lord,” Karl Heisenberg said, twirling a wrench between gloved fingers with his signature sardonic grin. “The spooky doll girl.”
Alcina scoffed, flicking her gaze toward the man as if he were something scraped off the bottom of her heel.
“You think I fear a girl who hides behind a veil and a puppet? Please.”
Heisenberg grinned wider. “Then by all means, big lady, go say hello. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
Alcina finished her wine with a dramatic flourish and stood. “Consider it done.”
She regretted that confidence almost immediately.
The Beneviento estate was shrouded in mist and silence, perched on a cliffside like a forgotten memory. Alcina walked with her usual grace, long legs striding effortlessly…until the first doll flew at her face with a knife.
She swatted it away with a growl.
Then came the tripwire, the exploding jack-in-the-box, the giggling echoes from nowhere. Dolls with hollow eyes appeared in the corners of her vision, some dressed like little brides, others like butchers. One nearly severed a strand of her immaculate hair.
“Who makes these things?” she hissed, clawing through what she swore was the twenty-third trap.
“She's watching,” whispered a voice from a porcelain mouth.
“Good,” Alcina growled. “Let her watch.”
By the time she reached the front door, her dress was torn at the hem, her hat slightly askew, and several dolls were still clinging to her cape like burrs. She tore them off and straightened herself with all the grace of a noblewoman pretending she hadn't just fought off a sentient toy army.
The door creaked open on its own.
And standing there was Donna Beneviento.
Alcina opened her mouth to speak—until Donna turned her face toward her. She wasn't wearing her veil.
For a moment, time stilled.
Her skin was pale as porcelain, lips like rose petals, and her eyes—so dark and soft and impossibly deep—met Alcina’s with a startled wideness. A fragile beauty, shadowed by tragedy and grief, and yet…more real than anything Alcina had seen in decades.
Alcina Dimitrescu, the towering predator, the executioner of men, the terror of the village…felt her breath catch.
“I…” she started, voice low, suddenly uncertain. “You…must be Donna.”
Donna blinked, her hands twitching nervously, one clutching Angie tight against her side.
“...You’re tall,” she mumbled.
Alcina couldn’t help it. She smiled, a genuine curve of her lips.
“And you’re…exquisite.”
There was a long pause. Angie tilted her doll head.
“Oh my god,” Angie said, loud and high-pitched, “does the vampire lady have a CRUSH?”
Donna’s face turned scarlet. Alcina flinched slightly, but didn’t retreat. Instead, she dipped her head in a courtly bow, regaining some composure.
“Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. It’s…an honor, my lady Beneviento.”
Donna didn’t speak, but her lips curled just slightly. She stepped aside, holding the door open with a shy nod.
Alcina entered, dodging another knife-wielding doll by a hair’s breadth.
It was the start of a very…unusual courtship.