Chapter Text
"Who would choose you in a room full of people?"
Penelope pondered on that phrase whenever the duke locked her in her room as punishment for her latest outburst. Which, honestly, seemed to happen daily; there was just no pleasing the spoiled jeweled beast.
She's been confined to her room long enough that she's sure that if she were to every become blind, she could traverse the area easily; she's memorized every last detail. The wallpaper, where it slowly is peeling of in the right wall's upper corner, and the bedframe with one leg slightly shorter than the rest, much to her annoyance.
Her eyes settled on the window for the nth time today despite nothing of interest to be found outside it. Like everything else, it was just the same old walls, the greenery slowly reclaming it, the cracks becoming more visibile day by day.
It didn’t matter what she did, or why she did it, it was always received negatively. Penelope somehow always ended up being the villain trampling on the happiness of the innocent.
She squinted as a ray of sun hit her face, she forgot to pull over the curtains, and standing up, walking there, pulling the curtains back, and flopping back to her bed felt like too much.
But she never considered them as innocent, not even the people she supposedly "hurt." They weren't some pitiful defensless child on the street, they were capable. With their sharp tongues, family backing, and piles of money from generations of people exploiting those below them for every last penny.
Penelope sighed, trying to find another sort of comfortable spot on the bed. Why does she feel so tired? She barely did anything today, unlike the servents outside her room. Always making sure everything was perfect and proper until it came to her and her needs.
Her mind eventually drifted back to that one dreaded phrase.. Who really would choose her of all people in a room full of several others? It always seems to be in the back of her mind, taunting her for Penelope could never answer; who would choose her, really?
Her father, the duke, would either choose Derrick or Reynold.. And those two would rather choose a vermin full of a thousand and one diseases before her. So that left.. no one. Those three were basically the only people she really knew in the manor, and that was a stretch.
She couldn't even say one of the servents or guards, god knows how much they loathe her. Penelope doubts, actually knows with full certainty, a single guard here would risk their life for her if she was in danger. They would leave her to her faith, maybe even laugh on the way out.
On top of that, as pathetic as it was, she had no one to really call a friend. Having the unofficial title of "The Mad Dog of Eckhart" made it so people kept their distance. Unless it was to mock or taunt her it seemed.
She could never undertsand why people always seemed so suprised when she reacts violently, as they say. They started it, and didn't any of their mothers tell them "treat others how you want to be treated"?
Hers made sure to drill it in her brain, she really was a sweet soul. Undeserving of anything and everything life had thrown at her and taken so cruelly.
Even if the question were to be flipped, so she would be the one choosing someone in a crowd, she still wouldn't have an answer. If there was no one to choose her, there was no one for her to choose herself.
What she wouldn't give to go back, back into her mother's warm embrace. Even with how terrible life was then, she had her, a rock, a source of comfort. The stones she adorns may shine and sparkle, but they do nothing else for her. Nothing but a short temporary sense of "getting back" at the Duke.
But maybe.. maybe this was really what life had in store for her, maybe she didn't deserve love or warmth. Maybe this was punishment for whatever vile she did in her past life.
Was she, no, could she be a good person deserving of companionship in another or any life? Is there a version of her out there free of solitude? Penelope hopes so, but she doubts it. A life full of kind gazes, sweet gestures, small heartfelt gifts, feel too foreign; it wouldn't be for her, no matter how similar the recipient and Penelope look.