Oh, To Be The Lady's - [A Lady Dimitrescu/Female Reader-Insert Story]

Chapter Seventy: To Be Fanged

SUMMARY: Prompt by the lovely @MudSpelledBackwards: It would be cool to see a chapter where maybe Maiden developes fangs due to the bond with Cina or something xD kind of a silly idea lol I just think fangs are cool 🤣

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A/N: Hi guys, happy Sunday! 🥰 Posting a little earlier today since I have dinner plans tonight with my brother but I managed to finish this short and fluffy prompt before we're meeting up thankfully haha 😅 I hope y'all enjoy and thank you, as always, for your incredible love and support! 💙💚💙💚

**TRIGGER WARNINGS: brief mentions of blood and biting**

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You didn't notice them until you bit into an apple one lazy morning.

Lounging on one of the many loveseats adorning the castle's library, you adjust your hold on your novel, chewing the bite of apple. The castle around you is quiet, your daughters off in the woods for a mid-morning hunt, the nice early-Spring weather releasing them from the clutches of their annual winter cabin fever.

And as much as you adore them with your entire heart, the chance to just relax, eat a snack and read peacefully is utterly blissful.

Alcina's, thankfully, a little closer in proximity. Up in her office taking countless calls with wine sellers and buyers and a whole bunch of other sales-distribution you couldn't hope to ever understand, you contemplate for a-few-seconds about going to find her before shrugging and taking another bite of your apple. The sofa you're snuggled against is comfortable and your novel is just getting good, you can stay and read for a while longer. Plus, bothering your already hard working wife when she's probably tearing gashes into the walls in frustration sounds like a bad idea in the making.

Although, frustrated and angry is a very good look for her. And you're honestly getting a little bored, no matter how much you enjoy reading.

Closing your book with a snap of the spine, you rest it against the edge of the loveseat, slumping down into the cushion with a harsh sigh. Reaching up with your free hand, you rub at your eyes, debating against taking a small nap, already feeling a small headache brewing behind your brows. Bringing your apple up with your other hand, you hesitate for a moment when you go to bite down again, squinting in the flickering firelight, grateful for the glass ceiling high-above.

The apple's a normal red, some darker bruising in places but otherwise inconspicuous. It's the bite marks — your bite marks — into the crimson skin that's making you pause.

They're sharper than normal. More than you've ever noticed before, the places where your canines puncture the fruit's skin pointed and thin. Frowning, you take a small, experimental bite, immediately pulling back and studying the red surface, a pang of anxiety shooting through your gut at the way that yes, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.

Your canines are longer.

Swiping your tongue across your teeth, you practically throw the poor apple down onto the coffee table and race to the library doors. Throwing them open, you nearly slip on the pristine marble floors, ignoring the startled glances from a few Castle staff and cursing at the fact you chose today to wear your fuzzy socks. Huffing, unsure if you're shaking from excitement or nerves, you're at Alcina's closed office door in what feels like seconds.

Fuck not bothering her right now, this is way more important than a few wrinkly, rude old man-things wanting their wine bottles.

Pushing it open, you stumble a bit as you scramble inside. As expected, Alcina's on the phone, standing next to her large windows overlooking the vast Romanian forest with a furrow of concentrated frustration between her brows. At the sound of your panting, however, she immediately twists fully to face you, her beautiful golden eyes widening in concern below the rim of her wide hat.