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

Chapter Thirty One: To Be Lightheaded

A/N: Hi guys, I'm sorry for the slowness of my current updates, a lot has happened in my real life there past few weeks and it's kind of been exhausting 😅 Because of this, please expect an update (or maybe two) every week from now until further notice. I'm going to strive to update more (the "once every two days or so" again) but as of right now, the best I can do is once or twice a week lmao

Thank you so much for all of your love, understanding and support and I hope you enjoy this chapter! 💖🥰

**TRIGGER WARNING: past attempted murder, blood, violence and language** 

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You haven't eaten anything in the past few days and you're starting to get extremely lightheaded.

It's not your fault, not really. You've been anxious, high-strung and angsty, shaking in a way that's unfortunate in it's familiarity. Alcina had tried her best to help, had held you in her protective embrace, pressed sweet, comforting kisses against your cheeks and forehead. Your frustrated tears soaked into her dress.

This morning, you wake to find her side of the bed empty and you feel the echo of her absence deep in your soul. Sitting up, you yawn, rubbing at your stinging, red-rimmed eyes. You hadn't slept very well that night, hadn't been sleeping well any night, caught up in nightmares that seemed to bleed into the very walls around you.

The shadows were dark, especially at night and the glint of them merged with the memory of his eyes, no matter how much you tried to force them away.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you glance around you for a note or message, something from your wife to explain her disappearance. You find nothing, however, but the same ruffled, cold sheets and you swallow, hands shaking. You shiver as you stand, the glistening light of the late morning sun filtering in the cracks in the curtains, a slice of gold cutting through the gray darkness.

You slip through its pointed ray, shuffling toward the door and you sway as you near, a flash of dizziness causing you to falter. You breathe through the spell, used to them by now and you lean your weight against the wall, waiting with your heart in your throat.

You want Alcina.

It's worse today, the nausea, the anxiety clawing at your insides, rabbid like a caged dog, foaming at the mouth and wild in the eyes. Pacing the confinements of your knowledge, your very own prison cell built from the stones of your limitations.

You hate feeling helpless, despise feeling trapped even more and since the issue with the poisoned weapons had risen, had grown to a problem that even Alcina can't keep you from anymore, those feelings in you had only grown as well. Your wife had attempted to reassure you, painted her red promises of safety against your skin with her perfect lips, curled herself around you in the dark of night when your nightmares chased you into horrid wakefulness.

Nothing could calm your racing heart, however, not when the poison that caused Alcina's beautiful eyes to shut, for her lovely face to go slack and her arms lax at her sides is still out there, still being used by too many people to even count. You've seen the reports, scattered around her desk, framed by the flickering orange glow, the red dots sunk deep into the paper like drops of blood.

"They're everywhere." You'd breathed, your voice muffled from where Alcina had gathered you close again, turning you gently away. "Alcina, what are we going to do?"

"All we can do right now, darling, is track them, try and find a source." Your wife had said, pressing her own words against your forehead. "Heisenberg and Donna are working on their own sections. They're reporting back to me and Mother Miranda. Everything will work out, I swear it to you."