Penelope sighed heavily, "I’ll be right there." She entered her room, sat on the bed, and stared at the wall. These past months without her around felt like she’d witness the rain after a long drought. But the drought was back, and it would be more vicious than ever, she could feel it. She stood, exhaled, and went out and into Octavia’s room.
"Pen," Octavia yelped in excitent. "You’ve finally decided to join ." She was soaked in a giant tub with a servant on each side attending to her calloused hands.
"Why wouldn’t I?" Penelope smiled and looked at the servants sitting beside Octavia. "Bring a chair," she commanded loudly.
The two servant girls looked at each other, overco with dread; their hands had begun to tremble. "Of course, princess," one of the girls said and was about to stand.
"I never asked you to stand," Octavia’s voice was dangerously low.
"Your Majesty, I..."
whack! whack! Octavia slapped her on both cheeks. The girl nursed a cheek in her hand. "Sit!" she ordered.
"These imbeciles," Penelope said aloud, "They no longer know how to do their Jobs properly. I asked, bring a chair!"
The girls began to cry, low and muffled sobs.
Penelope dragged a chair from under the servant girl in front of her, and she fell. She placed the chair in front of Octavia and gave her a tight smile.
Octavia stared at Penelope with a devilish grin plastered on her face. "You haven’t lost your bite, sister," she said. Then she turned to the servant girl, "Kneel properly, you fool!" she thundered, and the girl imdiately knelt upright.
"Tell , sister," Octavia turned her gaze back to Penelope, "What has happened while I was away?"
Penelope crossed her hands and leaned back into her chair, "You know, the usual. Father, always being in etings, the tournant," she shrugged, "Nothing else of notice."
"I forgot about the tournant," she scoffed and leaned back into the tub, "Who won?"
"Who else? Theo, of course. We’ve both always known it would be him."
"We have," Octavia nodded thoughtfully, "I should do sothing about that."
Penelope rolled her eyes, "You’re barking up the wrong tree, Octavia," she said, "We both know Theo is not one to be ssed with. He does not care that you are the princess." Penelope knew that this riled her sister. Soone who did not automatically fall in line, who did not fawn over her, she hated it more than anything in the world.
Octavia chuckled, and her eyes darkened. "You’ve also grown much bolder while I was away, sister. Is it that new pet of yours?"
"Iris is no pet," Penelope furrowed her brows, and her jaw tightened. "Do not all hear that!"
Octavia smirked, and her eyes shone with wicked mirth. "You... like her?"
Penelope went silent. She knew she shouldn’t have co in here. She turned her face away from her, her eyes looking everywhere but at her.
"Wait... you really do!" Octavia began to laugh. The kind that held a promise of only pain.
A chill ran down Penelope’s spine. She did not want to look at her sister; she knew what her eyes held. She knew she would not be able to keep her fear in check, and she did not want Octavia to see her afraid.
"Leave us!" Octavia ordered, and the servant girls scurried out of the room. Octavia stepped out of the tub, water dripping all over the floor, then bent to look Penelope in the eyes. "Have you not learnt anything, my dear?" she asked. She grabbed Penelope’s Jaw and turned her face to her. "It’s just the both of us, my dear, no one else. Our lovely brother has father all to himself, while we have each other."
Penelope breathed heavily as she shook with fear; a pool of tears had ford in her eyes.
"You understand, right?"
Penelope nodded.
"Good," Octavia smiled sweetly, released her face from her grip, and stood fully. "Now, if you would be so kind as to leave, I need to get ready for the little feast downstairs."
Penelope exhaled and stood.
"Make sure to bring that little friend of yours," she said sweetly.
Penelope walked out of the room with the little strength she could muster and entered her room. She slid to the floor with her back to the door when she’d closed the door. Her body shook so violently with fear. She despised her. She hated that she could make her react this way. No matter how she tried to hold on to the mory of the little sweet girl who loved her before their mother’s death, she failed miserably. Octavia was no longer that girl.
Penelope curled herself into a ball and sobbed silently. She stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, as suddenly as lightning in a clear sky, Penelope stopped her tears, wiped her face dry, got up, and flicked the dirt from her body. She would do as she had always done, endure and survive.
She opened her door, trod down the stairs, and walked toward Iris’s room and knocked on her door.
"You’re back?" Iris asked. "I thought you’d wanted to spend ti with your sister."
"After I said all of that about her, you think I would want to be in the sa room as her?"
"I an, I thought you weren’t really being serious," she shrugged. "You’re sisters. I thought it..."
"Don’t think, Iris, you’re not very good at it. When I say I don’t like her, I an I don’t like her."
Iris raised her hands, "Fine, fine." She looked closely at Penelope’s face and frowned. "Have you been crying?"
Penelope sighed and plopped down on the bed, "Yes, I was."
"Your sister caused it, didn’t she?"
"She did."
Iris sighed, shook her head, and went to sit beside Penelope. "I don’t think I really understood this dynamic of yours with your sister while you were parroting away minutes ago."
"You’re not very bright, Iris. Did you just realize that?"
"I think so," Iris pressed her lips into a thin line. "We’re in for a lot of fun, aren’t we?"
"If you think what’s coming is fun, you’ll be sorely disappointed."
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