The Love of Lady Dimitrescu X Female Reader || One-Shots

The Soldier Part 2

Seeing how mauve velvet drapes framed the high arched windows of your room, you allowed your eyes to scan the rest of your surroundings. If this was only the guest room, then you could only imagine what the rest of the manor house must have looked like. Your mind was then boggled by what you were not wearing. Your legs were bare. Most of your upper chest, including your waist, was all wrapped in bandages.

Your officer's uniform was hanging on your bedpost. The bloodstain from where you were shot was less prominent; your pants were folded in half and your combat boots were nowhere to be found. What concerned you was not knowing where your pistol was? Had that woman who carried you inside her home hidden it? Speaking of that woman with the pretty face, you wondered where she was, or those girls you had frightened the hell out of. Those poor things. You hadn't meant to scare them.

You drew a blank on what happened after she brought you inside. The last thing you heard was her commanding her daughters to bring her several towels, a bowl of hot water, a medical kit, and gauze. Thereafter, you remembered yawning and then that was it. You guessed you must have fallen asleep on them, even throughout the surgery. Whenever they made their appearance, your first question would be to learn their names.

From inside their immense gallery kitchen with dark cabinets, stone tiled floors, and a backsplash of earthy hues, Alcina cracked another egg into her copper skillet. She sensed her daughters' shining eyes judging her silently, which bothered her. Taking on a defensive stance, she jerked her head around to them after she heard one of them mutter a complaint. "What is it now?"

Bela bit her lip before speaking up. "Maybe I should do the eggs? It's only in my humble opinion that my scrambled eggs are arguably the best in this household."

Cassandra threw her hand up. "I second that! Bel makes 'em plenty cheesy and their texture far less rubbery."

Letting out a snort, their mother lowered her eyebrows at them. "Are you insulting my cooking?" Since she let go of her kitchen staff, Alcina familiarized herself with her book of recipes over these past many months. Some of those recipes proved a great disaster, while others were more of a success.

"Never!" Daniela claimed, hovering over her mother and watching her whisk the golden yokes around. "We love your eggs, Mother! It's just that you use a lot of force whenever you're cracking them into the pan, resulting in tons of eggshells." Using her fingernails, Daniela plucked out another brittle shell and made a face.

"You've got tiny sailboats of eggshells floating around in your egg mixture," Cassandra giggled. "Maybe our guest will love that extra crunchiness in her eggs!"

"And do not forget her buttered toast!" Bela presented her plate of toasted layers of bread. With a knife in hand, she planned to slather them with her favorite homemade jam.

Feeling rather miffed, Alcina stopped whisking the eggs and set her utensil on the countertop. "Very well, Bela. Since you are confident in your cooking skills, then I shall let you take over while I check on her."

"Yes!" Filled with glee, Bela handed her plate of toast off to her little sister, taking over her cooking position with overwhelming pride. "I shan't disappoint, Mother dearest! Breakfast will be served soon!"

"What if she throws this all up?" Daniela asked, frowning at the buttered toast in her hand.

The redhead recalled how you screamed last night during her mother's operation of removing the bullet from your body. Well, fragments of it. After Alcina was through, you ran a fever because of your inflammation, which was why she and her daughters stripped you of your clothing. Although you had no memory of this, their mother had given you a sponge bath, having wiped the mud off your face. She then proceeded to clean the rest of your body before covering you with a light blanket for the rest of the night.