Royal Nightmare

TW: Death and imprisonment.

I lay in bed. Shivering. My face was freezing, and my toes felt like they’d fall off. I had my duvet pulled tight over my shoulders, my cheek grazing the soft material. I was supposed to be warm under the thick, comforting blanket, but I was chilly.

Reluctantly, I opened my tired eyes. They scanned my surroundings. My usual castle bedroom. I reached a shaky hand over to my bedside table. I gripped my phone tightly and pulled it under. The metal was cold and hard, slowly warming as the heat from the blanket flooded onto it. I checked the time.

5am.

I sighed and heaved myself out of bed, looking at my phone as I did so. I slipped into some snug, fluffy slippers and pulled my oversized dressing gown over my white nighty. I gracefully made my way over to my bay window, where I could see the world. I absorbed the heat from the seat. It may have been cold, snowing and dark outside, but the seat was heated. I traced my hand along the damp stone wall, resting on the glass window.

I led this world. This was where I belonged.

I picked my phone up from my lap. I had absently placed it down.

I may be a princess, but social media was still big for me. As I was about to log onto my secret Insta, my butler rushed in, followed by half a dozen guards.

“Your Majesty,” he said hurriedly. “You are in mortal danger! We are under attack!”

I glanced up in surprise. He was breathing heavily, as though he had run the whole way here. He was rather large.

Two guards heaved me up and I cried out. They were hurting me!

“Put me down this instant!” I shrieked, outraged.

I was sick of being pushed around. It was as though nobody looked at me as a human, but more like interesting artwork in a museum.

“Please, tell me what’s happening?” I begged, confusion evident on my delicate features.

My butler sighed. “Princess, your castle is under attack,” he explained patiently. “We need to flee.”

I blinked. “Surely we can just shoot them down?”

A guard yanked me up violently. I huffed angrily.

“I’m sick of being told what to do!” I yelled, forgetting the situation we were in.

“Your Highness, I really can’t-” The butler trailed off when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

There stood my mother, poised and elegant as ever. She had a blank, polite expression but her eyes held layers of pure fury. I didn’t dare wonder what had made her so mad.

“We’ll need to have a talk when this is over, Isadora—”

“Isa,” I interrupted pointedly.

She took a deep breath and continued. “Isa. Now, we must go. It’s what we must do.”

I frowned. I was bubbling with blinding rage. But I could never show that, as such a ‘perfect’ royal princess.

“I refuse.” I sounded far calmer than I actually felt. “This is my castle. I will not leave it.”

I was finally making my own choices, and it felt good.

A flash of something far darker was visible for a split second in my mother’s narrowed eyes.

“Very well. Die here. But first, let me take you someplace.” She gripped my hand with such intensity, that my subconscious allowed myself to be dragged.

A gunshot sounded and screams erupted.

They were inside the castle.

Panic began to prick at my thoughts. My heart raced and I glanced at Mother.

Stone-faced. As usual.

I realised that we weren’t headed for the exit. Instead, we were headed for the ballroom, where the sounds of shooting and screaming was loudest. My heart skipped a beat.

“Isa!” I recognised that voice.

It jolted me back into control of my body and I ripped my hand from my stepmother and tore across the fleeing crowd to the sound.

There he was.

“Father!” I cried. Tears flooded from my wide eyes.

“Isa…” he whispered lovingly.

His breathing was quick and there was a bandage on his upper thigh.

“Your mother is crazy,” he panted. “She let them in.”

My blood ran cold. “She never loved me…”

He smiled sadly and shook his head. His glasses sat half-broken on his crooked nose. I felt numb. I seriously couldn’t feel anything.

Deep down I had always known.

“What do we do?” I asked, trembling.

His eyes widened and his pupils shrank. He was staring directly behind me.

“Honey, I-”

Bang!

I turned just in time to see my mother fire her gun. Where had she got it? No clue. All I knew was that a psychopath was trying to murder me, and I had to leave. Now.

I turned back and my father lay motionless on the floor. I hadn’t even heard him collapse. There was a blackish-red, bullet-shaped hole in his forehead. I let out a strangled gasp. Grief raged inside me like a fire for a moment, but I pushed it aside as best as I could. My father wanted me to live. So, I would.

“Come now, Isadora. Unless you’d rather die?” Mother held out her hand, her long fingernails like a cat’s – threatening to scratch.

I turned and bolted. I ran until I couldn’t feel my legs. I eventually stopped near the dungeons. I had no clue how to get back.

I stumbled down the steps leading to the prison. I landed on my knees. Loudly.

The men and women in the cells started hissing, screeching, yelling, spitting. Anything rude, you name it.

I heard the faint click sounds of my mother’s heels. I ran behind the stairs and curled up, hugging my knees.

The moment my mother step foot in the dungeon, the prisoners let out an uproar. Enraged and fuelled by her and what she’d done. She silenced them with a single shot.

It pierced the heart of a nearby, scraggly man.

I slapped my hand over my mouth to silence the horrified scream I was so close to letting out.

“Isadora,” she called in a singsong voice. “I have big ideas for you! Come out, darling.”

Her bittersweet words burned into my skull, and I knew I’d never forget them.

I was peering through a small gap in the stairs. Her eyes were wild, and her originally beautiful royal-blue dress was ripped and bloodstained. Her hair – which was wrapped neatly in a pearly bun when I first saw her – was slicked back into a tight low ponytail. I pulled my dressing gown closer as I carefully removed my slippers. They were slowing me down.

I edged around until I was at the front and sprinted up like my life depended on it. Which, it kind of did.

I decided to ditch the dressing gown next to the ballroom, as though I had run that way, then continued speeding in the opposite direction. It was merely me, barefoot, in a white nightgown, hunted by many.

My feet pounded the cold floor and sweat dripped from my pores. I finally made it outside. But, where to go next? I heaved myself up a snowy tree, my fingers now numb, and looked out at my surroundings, as the sun had now begun to light this kingdom up. The castle looked like a party, but on the inside, it was a fight to the death. That I so narrowly escaped. I knew I would still be hunted after leaving. So, going back to my first point, where to next?

This was a decision that I – me alone – could make. There will be many more choices along the track, and I am willing to make them, because for once, it’s my turn to do things for me.