Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a literal mold man raising a probably mold baby on your own is not easy, as Ethan Winters keeps getting made more painfully aware of every day. Being mandatorily relocated to a remote village stuck in the 1950s a dozen miles from your old home in a foreign country that somehow only keeps getting more foreign certainly doesn’t help. (And 1950s is being generous, by the way.) He gets to experience all the joys of adjusting to his newfound life as mold in the shape of a human male and the struggles of sudden single fatherhood, packed with the spicy addition of completely unfamiliar surroundings that he legally has no choice but to sit down and shut up about. Yay.

Of course, Ethan hasn’t always been a mold man. (To his knowledge, at least. Who fucking knows at this point?) Even when he became a chunk of sentient mold, he somehow wasn’t aware until the physical manifestation of religious psychosis attempted to kidnap his daughter, Rose, and succeeded in killing his wife, Mia. The rage and panic and grief this elicited in him “unlocked his mold powers,” as he jokingly puts it so he can cope well enough to sleep at night. This manifested in some weird fucking growths shooting out of his apparently inhuman body and impaling the kidnapper repeatedly as she tried to fly away with his child. After that, he doesn’t remember much. Just a blind rage with a smidgeon of protective instincts as one of the vine-like projections gently grabbed Rose before she could plummet to the frozen ground. The next thing he was cognizant of was calling Chris Redfield from the safety of his home with Rose in his arms.

According to Chris, Ethan wounded the abductor almost beyond recognition. His wording implied that Chris knew who she was, but Ethan didn’t care to press for information. He only cared that his daughter, the light of his life, was safe. Chris was an absolute pal and promised to keep it on the down low that Ethan was the one who did it, so as to avoid questioning and potential experimentation, especially in his time of grieving. Unfortunately, he still had to be relocated. Chris said it was so that they could clean up the mess and Ethan could be spared the painful feelings and reminders in the home, but Ethan knows it was because his position was compromised and they didn’t want a repeat. He also gets the feeling that for some reason, Chris specifically chose this remote village to hide him. From what, he’s still not entirely sure, but he’ll trust Chris’s judgement. For now, at least.

Although Ethan is certainly thankful that he doesn’t have to live in the house his wife was brutally murdered in, adjusting to the sudden shift in lifestyle and the unfamiliar surroundings while in mourning is proving to be much more of a struggle than anticipated. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Rose and will do anything to keep her safe and raise her right, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult. Especially not when he lies awake at night worrying that he’s going to accidentally kill her one of these days because he can’t control his mold abilities. What if he gets just a little too frustrated, and he hurts Rose with another involuntary mold explosion?

Chris keeps telling Ethan not to worry, but it feels impossible not to. This sudden change in… well, everything is extremely daunting. The agent said he could assemble a small private team to try and work on controlling Ethan’s mold powers, but he respectfully declined. At this point, Ethan would prefer to ignore it in the hopes that it will go back to being dormant and he can get on with his life. He knows he has no right to worry about losing control, then, but wishful thinking and willful ignorance go a long way.

Since moving to the village he never bothered to learn the name of, Ethan has never once left the house. He’s been here maybe a week already, and he’s eternally grateful that Chris thought to stock the house to last for a while before he moved in. Unfortunately, however, this is his home now, whether he likes it or not, so he has to establish himself in the village sometime. That means getting a job and, though he shudders to think of it, socializing with the locals. At the very least, he needs to familiarize himself with the layout of the village, which felt more haphazard than organized when he first arrived.

Sighing, Ethan pushes out of his chair and sets down the book he got eleven pages through without reading anything. If he’s going to go out and walk around the village, he has to wake Rose up from her early afternoon nap. Lately, she hasn’t been as cranky about her sleeping habits, and Ethan wonders if it’s a developmental thing or if she knows what happened to her mom. Could be both, but neither would surprise him.

A smile graces Ethan’s face as he enters their shared room and looks upon his daughter’s peaceful face. Of course, he loved her with every fiber of his being before, but he has never been more thankful to have her in his life as he has since Mia died. He can’t help but feel a little guilty as he disrupts Rose’s sleep by picking her up. Her nose scrunches up adorably before her eyes flutter open as Ethan cradles her close. She doesn’t look happy to be woken up, but she isn’t vocal. She just sends a cute baby glare at her dad as he brings her to the changing table across the room.

“I know,” Ethan apologizes softly as he starts changing her, “I’m sorry. But we have to go out, hon.” Pinning the diaper in place, he picks her up to find some new clothes and her jacket. “Trust me, I’m not much happier about it than you are.” He pauses as he sets her down on the changing table again and starts dressing her. After bundling his pride and joy in as many layers as are comfortable, he zips up her overcoat and adds, “We can be grumpy gills together, huh?”

As if she understands what he means, Rose bubbles a laugh, looking up at her dad with a tiny grin. Ethan’s heart melts as he picks her up and makes for the front door. After struggling to put his own coat on one-handed for a few minutes, they’re finally ready to head out. At least, physically they are. Mentally is still up for debate.

Ethan checks to make sure he still has his keys in his pocket and adjusts Rose on his hip before opening the door and locking it behind them. The cold hits him all at once, and he suppresses a shiver. Glancing at Rose, he sees that her only reaction is narrowing her eyes against the wind as she gazes out at the village. The adorable sight warms Ethan enough to strengthen his resolve against the cold, and he takes his first few steps outside his new home. Although the act of getting ready and the first steps felt monumental, the rest of their walk is largely uneventful, which is a relief to Ethan. Maybe he doesn’t have to be as constantly on guard as he used to.

The only odd occurrence is the gathering of villagers around a statue and a group of four very different people, the most striking being the tallest and palest woman Ethan has ever seen wearing the most massive hat he’s ever seen as she stands on the far left. The four seem to be trying to make some sort of announcement, but they can barely get along well enough to say anything of substance for long. In his best translation, it seems to be something about a mother being gone and them being left in charge, which almost makes Ethan snort because it makes their whole village sound like one big comically dysfunctional family. He tries to hold it back to avoid being disrespectful, but a tiny noise still escapes him against his will. Two of the four in the center, the “bookends” so to speak, snap their heads up to look at him. The tall lady on the left and a haggard hobo-looking man on the right. He averts his gaze immediately, feeling embarrassed, and the announcement proceeds as normal.

From what Ethan is able to gather, the village had been having an animal problem -- wolves, maybe? -- since the disappearance of the mother figure, and the four of them just finished taking care of the last of it. Since the mother (whoever she was) would not be returning, those four would be taking over care of the town. Ethan’s Romanian is not the best, so he may be wrong, but it sounds like they’re all her children, so they’ve inherited shared rule or something like that. They were already lords of a sort before, at least.

Everything in the announcement checks out with what Chris had been telling him prior to moving in. The lead ruler had disappeared recently, leaving the village to four people. Her sudden disappearance caused a lot of chaos in the village, which delayed his move-in date a little. Chris personally worked closely with the four new heads of the village to ensure that Ethan’s arrival would take off without a hitch. In the midst of everything, the village was overrun by feral animals taking advantage of the unrest. While the loose wild animal situation served as another excuse for him not to go outside, Ethan honestly expected it to have been taken care of earlier than it was. He’s been here a week, and it only just got cleared up. He has never been so glad to have poor coping skills.

As the crowd breaks up at the end of the announcements, Ethan starts to turn away as well before someone calls out to him in English. “Ethan Winters, correct?” A small jolt of startled panic runs through him, but he quickly suppresses it to make sure he doesn’t have a moldy outburst. He and Rose share an uncertain look as he turns around to face the four approaching lords. The man in the dirty trenchcoat is the one who called out, and he continues, “We’ve heard a lot about you from your friend Chris.”

Glancing between the four, Ethan forces a smile. He struggles to quell the fight or flight response triggered by the unsettling thinly veiled glare the tall woman is pinning him with and the grin the industrial revolution boxcar hobo wears. “Yes, Chris. Unfortunately, he didn’t tell me much about you four or the village in general. As usual, he tossed me into the thick of it with next to no information.”

“Ahaha! But that’s the most fun way to do it!” Ethan jumps as a doll being held by a woman with a black veil over her face cackles, speaking in a shrill voice. He’s not sure how much more his heart can take before his mold powers force their way out.

Rolling her eyes, the tall woman says, “Excuse her. Unfortunately, she does not share her maker’s ladylike grace.”

Ethan lets out a nervous chuckle, not sure how to respond. He’s seen some weird shit, but this woman speaks as if the doll is its -- her? -- own person. Surely, that can’t be the case, right? He sure as hell hopes not, because he can’t handle any more unnatural shit in his life. This village is supposed to be his chance to move away from all that. For real this time.

“Well, all things considered, I can’t say I blame him,” the hunchback standing behind the rest of them gurgles. His voice does not sound pleasant, nor does he look very pleasant, but Ethan’s more concerned about his words.

Ignoring the instinctive urge to take a step back, Ethan narrows his eyes and asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nevermind him,” Mr. Prohibition Special cuts in, sending a pointed glare to the other man. At least, Ethan thinks he qualifies as a man. Yet another seemingly unnatural thing that he’s desperately hoping is completely, one hundred percent, bona fide natural. “Allow us to introduce ourselves. As you probably know, we are the four lords of the village. I am Karl Heisenberg, and I am most grateful for your service.”

Ethan almost corrects him that he’s never served a day in his life and in fact has no idea where this man got the impression that he had, but then he remembers that Chris could have told them literally anything about his background. Hell, with all of the resources at his disposal, Chris very well could have put together a fake, but entirely legalized, life story for him. Ethan is only just now realizing that he has absolutely no idea what pretenses he’s here under, which is vaguely terrifying. At the very least nerve-wracking. To make matters worse, he’s unfortunately smart enough to sense some sort of hidden meaning in the lord’s words. What the fuck did Chris tell them, and how much do they know? They very well could know more than he does, which he supposes they have a right to, considering they’re welcoming him, and all his baggage, into their village, but it is nonetheless frustrating and worrisome.

Pulling him out of his spiralling thoughts, the tall woman says with a curled lip, “Yes, quite. I am Alcina Dimitrescu, but you are to call me Lady Dimitrescu. Are we clear?”

Ethan blinks before nodding. “Yes, of course, ma’am. I’m honored to make your acquaintance.” The polite, diplomatic air he instinctively adopts is a pitiful defense mechanism.

Lady Dimitrescu’s face softens slightly at the honorific, looking almost pleased. Ethan feels only slightly less intimidated by her, now knowing how to appeal to her. Unfortunately, this pleasant feeling doesn’t last as a shrill voice shrieks, “And I’m Angie! This drab lady holding me is Donna Beneviento, but you should call her Lady Donna! She doesn't talk much, but she'll like that!”

“Pleased to meet you, Angie, Lady Donna,” Ethan says with a shaky smile, eliciting a pleased squeal from the unsettlingly animated doll. At least now it seems more normal. He assumes Lady Donna just has trouble speaking for herself, so she speaks through her doll. He’s certainly not one to judge people’s coping methods or personal quirks.

A nervous gurgle comes from the hunchback before he hesitantly offers, “I-I’m Salvatore Moreau, b-but uh… just Moreau is fine. Or-or whatever you want to call me. Fishface is a favorite around here.”

His face does kind of look like a fish, but Ethan wasn’t about to say that. “Well, that’s just rude,” he says, furrowing his brow. “Rest assured, Moreau, I believe in behaving like polite company, and polite company would not call people such names. I’m very glad to meet you.” Ethan thanks his lucky stars for that weekend of “gentlemanly manners” classes that his mom forced him through when he was ten. Who knew it would have actually paid off one day? The man may look, and admittedly smell and sound, grotesque, but it would be horrible of him to point it out or make fun of it. Clearly, he already feels bad enough as it is.

A wide, toothy grin breaks out across Moreau’s face. “You are very kind, sir.”

Ethan gives him a surprisingly genuine smile. “Please, just Ethan is fine. That goes for the rest of you too. No need for formalities.”

Lady Dimitrescu looks about ready to spit something witty, but Heisenberg speaks up first. “But of course, Ethan .” Suppressing a shudder, Ethan finds himself exceedingly uncomfortable with the way the lord said his name. He briefly considers taking it back, but just for this one. The others are fine. “Now that we’re all acquainted, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need help. My factory lies just over there.” He gestures to a large building chugging out smoke in the distance. “I hear you have a background in engineering. If you’re looking for a job, you should stop by. I could use someone with a bit more expertise than the common rabble around here.”

Ethan forces a smile, still feeling uncomfortable and unsettled by this man. “Thank you,” he says politely. “I’ll be sure to consider the offer once we’re settled in.” Heisenberg’s grin grows and he leans ever slightly forward, once again triggering Ethan’s fight or flight response as his arms subconsciously tighten around his daughter. Oblivious as ever, Rose stares up at him with a goofy grin on her face, and when he glances down at her, the sight makes him relax just enough to get through the rest of the conversation.

It looks like Heisenberg is about to say something, but Lady Dimitrescu cuts in, presumably payback for interrupting her. Ethan seriously considers worshipping her as his new goddess for sparing him from whatever the fuck else that Van Helsing wannabe could possibly have to say, even as her words drip with thinly concealed venom. “Well, Ethan --” yup, he much prefers the absolute hatred with which she spits his name over the way Heisenberg says it “--I much prefer my solitude, so I would personally appreciate it if you never reached out. Ever.”

Ethan appreciates her efforts to remain civil and ladylike despite clearly despising him for some unknown reason, so he graciously ignores said disdain and respects her wishes. Although, she’s, like, nine feet tall and could probably squash him with her pinky toe with minimal effort, so he’d respect her wishes either way. But, still, he appreciates it. “Yes, ma’am,” he says simply with a nod. She looks pleased at the honorific again, and he’s glad not to have angered her any further.

“Don’t come to House Beneviento, either!” Ethan feels proud of himself for not jumping at the shrill voice of Angie that time. Talk about uncanny valley. “Donna doesn’t like people! It’s a miracle she’s even here right now. Besides, the last guy to visit little Donnie ran away screami--” The doll shuts up immediately as Lady Donna abruptly shakes it. Trembling, she clamps a hand over its mouth and shakes her head as she silently excuses herself. Ethan forces himself to look away from her retreating form after a brief moment, not wanting to be rude or make her uncomfortable.

When he turns back, Lady Dimitrescu is rolling her eyes with a click of her tongue, muttering something about insensitive and unladylike behavior and that infernal doll . Moreau is shifting uncomfortably in the back, and Heisenberg… Heisenberg looks sympathetically forlorn, such a vast contrast to his former arrogant demeanor. Presuming something bad happened in the lady’s past, Ethan drops the subject and resolves to never bring it up, no matter how curious he might get one day. Odd that Lady Donna would bring it up as she spoke through her own doll, but maybe that’s part of her persona. Not Ethan’s business.

Awkward silence descends for a few minutes before Moreau breaks it by hesitantly saying, “Um, well… I think I’ll head home too.” A violent shudder wracks the lord’s body, and Ethan almost asks if he’s okay. However, the other two look entirely unconcerned, and he just continues talking as if it didn’t happen. “Um… I’m probably the last person you would want to come to for help, but… I live over by the reservoir if you ever need me. God help you if you do…” He mumbles the last part to himself as he turns to walk away, and it makes Ethan feel very sad for him.

“Of course!” Ethan calls out, not wanting Moreau to feel so down and left out. “I’ll be sure to stop by if I need anything!” Stopping dead in his tracks, Moreau turns his head after a beat and flashes a happy little smile at Ethan before continuing on his way.

Ethan can’t help the smile tugging at his lips at the simple man’s joy, but it’s ruined by Lady Dimitrescu’s scoff. “Don’t encourage him, Ethan,” she spits, radiating disgust. Oh, so that’s the kind of person she is. Civil to your face, trashing you the moment you leave. He knew people like that in high school. Mia used to have a friend who--

Ethan forces himself to stop thinking before he starts crying in front of the two lords. Unfortunately, no thinking means his mouth has no filter and immediately empties his prior thoughts. “Why not?” he blurts, unable to stop himself as he adjusts his hold on Rose, who had started slipping. “Why shouldn’t I encourage him? Because he looks different? Because he sounds different or, admittedly, smells different? He’s a person just like the rest of us and deserves just as much respect. I mean this in the nicest possible way, Lady Dimitrescu , but that comment actually made him seem a hundred times more respectable than you.”

Flabbergasted, the lady’s mouth opens and closes like a fish as she makes several offended noises, an equally offended hand pressed to her chest. After a few moments she clenches her fists at her sides and lets out an indignant cry of frustration as she turns on her heel and stomps away to her castle. Shaking his head, Ethan mutters, “How petulant,” before thought finally returns to his brain and he realizes what he just did. “Oh, shit.” He pissed off one of the lords of the village. The village he just moved to and needs to be accepted in. How did he fuck up so quickly?

Ethan’s thoughts are broken by the sound of laughter trying and failing to be held in. Startled, he jumps and turns to the last lord who he forgot was still here. When their eyes meet, Heisenberg composes himself with visible effort, letting out a few stray breathy laughs before clearing his throat. “That was amazing,” he says finally, allowing himself a final chuckle as he takes a step closer. His demeanor has shifted to something so much more lighthearted and less intense that Ethan doesn’t feel compelled to back away for once. He suddenly feels more inviting and less… predatory. Ethan actually isn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I’ve never seen anyone make her clam up like that,” Heisenberg continues, grinning widely. “It seems you never stop impressing, do you, Winters?”

Before he can stop himself, Ethan corrects him, “Ethan.”

Heisenberg smirks, an uncanny blend of that initial unsettling, predatory feeling and the more recent warm, inviting… magnetism. “Right, of course. Well, then, I bid you adieu, Ethan .”

This time, Ethan can’t help the chill that runs down his spine, a touch more pleasant than the last. It lingers with a tingling sensation as he simply stares at the other man, whose smirk grows in response to the visible shudder. Heisenberg abruptly turns away with a perfunctory wave above his head, a hammer Ethan somehow didn’t notice before slung over his other shoulder. All too late, Ethan regains his mental faculties and calls out, “Uh, yeah. S-see ya!” The wind carries a soft chuckle to his ears. When he looks down, Rose is giving him a look that he’d call inquisitive if he didn’t know any better. Unfortunately, a six-month-old baby understanding that interaction would be all too par for the course these days. Sighing, he starts the trek back home, vowing to explore the rest of the village tomorrow as he mumbles, “I don’t know either, Rose.”