Wayward (Prince Arthur x Oc)

Chapter 8: In which books are read and curses are pondered over

Harriet cautiously stepped into the big ballroom, bracing herself for the barrage of noise. There was always a lot of noise whenever her parents decided to hold a ball, hundreds and thousands of people talking, shoes clacking against the Marble floor, glasses tapping against each other, she could go on.

She reached a hand up to scratch at the itchy lace around her neck, but stopped at the glare from her mother.

"You have been absent for two hours now, that's one hour more than we agreed on," her mother whispered harshly, as she took a tight hold of Harriet's hand and dragged her away.

Harriet could not hear exactly what her mother was saying as they walked through the room, her sharp whispers simply joining and becoming indistinguishable with the rest of the noise surrounding both of them, but her body language made it very clear that she was upset.

Harriet felt a bit guilty about the whole thing, she hadn't really meant to be away from the ball for so long, but she just lost track of time.

She fidgeted with the lace around one of her arms this time, she realised that there was a lot of lace on the dress she had been put in, it was not very comfortable.

Finally, her mother let go of her hand to gesture towards a man who looked very impatient, probably with her. Judging by the way he was dressed he was probably a prince or at least a lord.

He said something she wasn't able to catch, and then her mother pushed her towards him, he held out his hand. It seemed like he wanted to dance.

Oh no, there was lace on her socks as well.

She took his hand, and he harshly pulled her out into the crowds of people, who immediately moved away to create a perfect circle around her and him. Effectively trapping her.

He bowed, she curtseyed and then they danced. He was a pretty good dancer, and Harriet did her best to hang along, there were thousand people watching after all so she had to. His hands felt cold and uncomfortable on her body, not quite holding on as much as they should be, like he was ready to let her go flying into the crowd at any seconds notice.

She stumbled a bit and tightened her grip on him in fear, he simply smiled a smug condescending grin back at her as he picked up the pace.

The lace inched.

The noise in the room seemed to increase.

She tried her best to keep up with his now faster steps, but found herself stumbling more and more. Her head started to feel dizzy and she wanted to stop, but she could feel the glare of her mother in the back of her neck and so she pushed on.

He picked up the pace more and more, seemingly taking delight in seeing her fumble and stumble as she tried to keep up, his smile growing more and more at each failure she displayed.

She gritted her teeth, determined not to mess up again. And then he loosened his grip on her.

And let go of her.

And she fell, the room breaking out in roaring laughter, almost destroying her eardrums. She tried to drag herself up from the floor, but her head was spinning, and the lace was inching, and the room was so loud, and everyone was looking at her.

She looked up at the man, who was grinning ear to ear, having grown a completely second mouth that was laughing a horrible condescending laughter.

Harriet felt embarrassed, humiliated, but most of all, she felt rage.

Biting back her anger she looked around her at the blob of eyes open wide, staring at her, and mouth laughing uproariously. It surrounded her on all sides, but behind it she could still make out the silhouette of her mother.