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

Chapter Twenty Eight: To Be Awake

A/N: Hi guys! 🥰 No one requested this chapter, I just wanted to write something cute and fluffy and soft lmao I'm also super tired right now but anyways, I hope you all enjoy and as always, thank you so much for all of your love and support! 💙💜💙💜

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Just like your wife, sleep was hard for you to come by some days.

Flipping back over onto your side, you face the far wall, watching with bleary, stinging eyes as the silver reflection of the moon climbs higher and higher in your wife's tall mirror. Alcina, herself, has yet to come to bed from her late meeting with the other Lords and you can feel the absence of her warmth in both the bedsheets and your soul.

With a huff, you turn over again, looking out the large windows, into the deep woods beyond. So dark that it's almost black, the treeline is a mere smudge against the grounds, the grass dew-soaked and sparkling in the night.

It would be beautiful if not for the way your heart races.

For the past hour now, a howl would shake the air, low in it's jagged rumble. You don't know what it is, what's causing the sound but something about it sends your spine shivering.

It's just as another breaks through the still night air that you finally gather the courage to rise from your covers. Trembling in the chill, you take a second to contemplate before grabbing at the blanket, wrapping it around you like a comfy shawl. Making your way to your closed bedroom door, you crack it open and glance out.

The hall is empty, dark, illuminated only by the faint moonbeams drifting in through the scattered windows. Sucking in a gasp, you tip-toe silently out of your room, closing the door behind you with a dull thud. Making your way toward the stairs, you pass your daughters rooms, each of their own doors shut for the night.

You want to find Alcina.

Even if she's unable to come to bed herself, you can just take the bed to her. With this groggy destination in mind, you set off in what you hope is the correct direction of her study, the harsh combination of exhaustion and stress causing your eyes to blur.

Nearly tripping down the first flight of stairs, you make it to the bottom with only a bruised knee and wounded pride. Totally not pouting, you adjust your grip against your blanket, curling it tighter around your body. Your hair is a mess, you can feel the nest of locks brushing against your shoulders and you curse the knots you can already feel getting tangled in your hairbrush tomorrow morning.

By the time you make it past the fireplace, the heart still simmering from the cooled embers, another howl slides through the air, slipping past you like the cool scales of a snake.

Throat dry, you swallow down a squeak of fear, quickening your steps. Almost tripping on the end of your blanket, you've just made it to the other end of the foyer when a sudden flicker in the corner of your eye catches your attention.

"What the actual fuck --?" You whisper, squinting in the darkness.

Across the hall, down a short, almost pitch-black hallway, a lit candle stick almost looks like it's floating in mid-air. It weaves in the darkness, it's flames glowing a bright orange and the wisps of it flickering along the walls. The shadows it casts are like claws, crawling toward you and you take a stumbling step back, falling on your ass.

"Oh God--"

Voice catching, you can only watch as a face appears in the gloom, the hollows of its eyes as dark as a starless winter night. They widen at the sight of you, floating closer and you can barely see as a large hand reaches out toward you.