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

Chapter Twenty Three: To Be Troubled

A/N: Hi guys, I've had a pretty rough day today so I wrote this chapter as both a distraction and to get a new sort-of plot going 😅 I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for all of your kind words and love, it truly means a lot 💖🥰

**Trigger Warning: mentions of past domestic abuse and references to murder** 

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You never want to be a bother to your Lady, especially when she's on the phone.

That doesn't stop the knots forming in your stomach, the anxiety that's been slowly, carefully digging its claws deeper into you with every passing second. The morning went fine, the girls had bid you farewell on their way out to hunt along the castle's grounds and you'd managed to snag a kiss from Alcina as she, herself, had made her way up to her office.

"I'll be down by dinner, beloved." She had promised against your lips, pulling back just enough to cup your cheeks in her palms. "Don't be afraid to call me if anything's wrong."

Even after you'd nodded, promising her that everything's fine, you just plan on going to read a book in the library or maybe take a walk along the courtyard, you couldn't shake the nervousness eating away at your insides.

It started festering then, growing in size until it ached for you to swallow.

You barely made it even a quarter of the way through the first chapter of your novel before throwing it aside with a harsh sigh. The words, they wouldn't stay on the page as they too became caught in the spiraling of your thoughts.

Damn it. You curse silently, clenching your fists until your nails dig into your palms. The little sparks of pain do nothing, however, to ground you and you grit your teeth. Stupid, stupid.

You take one, half-hearted, lap around the courtyard after that, squinting against the too bright glare of the mid-afternoon sun. It's golden rays are drumming against the castle's roof, spilling down onto the grass below and you find yourself drifting away from them, shivering despite the warmth.

Their pockets of shadow, darkness along the edge of the yard, starts to suck you in so you turn from them too.

Not really thinking anymore, just walking, you'd clambered back up the stairs and into the castle. You wander aimlessly for a while, passing by a few maids as they scurry about, going all the way up the stairs toward your own bedchambers, but passing it by after a split second of contemplation.

That's how you find yourself in-front of your wife's closed office door, hand positioned to knock. You're shaking now, trembling in a way that has nothing to do with the chilled ground underfoot.

Memories fling past your mind's eye.

His fist, red in color. Like a rose in all but sweetness.

Your own jaw aching, a blue-black ring around your eye, a pain as deep as the darkest waters. A bathroom sink under you, crimsoned-stained granite, your knuckles white with your grip. A fogged mirror, one that you can't bare to glance in, a crack down the middle.

A tug in your chest, like a string pulled too tight. It hurt to breathe from it, after a while, pulling you in a direction you couldn't wait to follow.

His voice, shouting promises, vows to follow you no matter where you run as you had finally, finally clawed your way out of that apartment, a flimsy suitcase in hand and a ticket to a small Romanian village stuffed in your pocket.

A nick against your bicep, a small bit of sharp pain, tugs you out of your thoughts and you glance over to see that you're bleeding, just a bit. A dot of red blooms against your arm from your nail, like a small crescent shaped ring-of-fire and you blink, focusing again on the closed door in-front of you.