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The Reckoning

Writing Prompt
❝ She was dragged across the throne room floor and thrown at someone's feet. Lifting herself up, she looked into the face of the boy she met in the woods the night before. The same boy who kissed her. ❞

Trigger warning
Consent isnt explicitly given. The scene isn't graphic, but just a warning to anyone who might find it uncomfortable to read it.

Word count: 2350

My name is Henrietta. My full name? Henrietta Solange-DeSoleil. My mother calls me Reita for short. I am the second eldest daughter of my family behind Catherine and my eldest brother, Roman. I have two younger sisters, Isabella and Josephine, and two younger brothers, twins named Philip and Donovan, and my mother carries another boy in the womb.

We were a happy family of 9, soon to be 10, with Frederick on the way. You'd think we'd grow up close, like peas in a pod, but we were all avoidant of each other. Roman and Catherine couldn't be bothered with any of the younger ones, myself included. Isabella and Josephine hated the twins for always making fun of their freckles and ginger hair (my father's side was particularly rouge). I was stuck between everyone, wondering why I had to act as the messenger between the three parties.

My mother, Sophie-Grace Belanger, was too busy with the duchy (despite leaving most of the work to our father) to notice our obvious discord. So, when my father, Hugo Solange-DeSoleil, returned from his trips to the capital, he was always surprised to see our animosity.

"You all ought to get along," he would always tell us, but my siblings never heeded his words. I, for one, agreed with him and wished I wasn't strung between all this drama. For goodness sake, I had no business meddling with petty children rivalry at my age (19).

One night, I did what I always do and snuck out of my room. After spending the whole day as a mediator between my siblings, I could never fall asleep. Even after Nan gave me a glass of warm milk. The only thing that helped was physically leaving my home.

The forest surrounding our home was like our backyard. Our father took us (those willing) on outings and trained us to become survival experts. I could start a fire, locate myself with stars if I was lost and even know how to make a small shelter with branches. Mother thought it would be useless to know, and, to be honest, so did I. But it was much more enjoyable than sitting with Catherine and embroidering flowers for all the "lovely men waiting to court me." I hope the lovely men never find me.

Leaning against my usual tree, I take a deep breath, finally feeling the weight on my shoulders disappear.

"Life in a castle is suffocating."

"I think it depends on the castle."

My whole body tightens to scream, but a firm hand holds me back. My mouth is covered and my body is pulled right against someone's chest.