Penelope

At twenty-five, you were that writer whose books weren't published in print but were read to pieces online. You were writing a story you'd carried inside you for years: dark fantasy, intrigue, palace coups, and she—Duchess Penelope. Red-haired, green-eyed, caustic, and unapproachable. Readers hated her.

The comments were constantly filled with comments like, "That upstart again," "Bitch," "When are they going to kill her?" They didn't see what you saw. They didn't see her brokenness, her loneliness, her desperate attempt to survive in a world where everyone was hunting for her title. And you followed their lead. You decided that Penelope would die in the finale. She would die on her own, tragically, beautifully—she would jump from a tower, and the readers would be satisfied.

That evening, you sat at your laptop, rereading a recent draft. The lines swam before your eyes, and fatigue took its toll. You leaned back in your chair, closed your eyes, and the world fell into darkness.

You opened your eyes to a vast hall, bathed in the light of crystal chandeliers. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the rustling of silk. Red dresses, black tailcoats, false smiles. And in the center of this splendor, by the high window, stood Penelope.

Long red hair, green eyes, cold and bright as emeralds. A black dress, clinging like a second skin, contrasted sharply with the scarlet gowns of the court ladies.

Penelope suddenly turned her head. Her gaze slid across the crowd and settled on you. She moved away from the windowsill and moved through the crowd toward you.

"There you are, " Penelope said, her usually cold, prickly voice suddenly sounding tired and relieved. "I've been looking all over for you."

She gestured around the room full of smiling masks.

— Just look at everyone... They smile sweetly at each other, talk, but in reality they hate each other. Disgusting.

She winced, took a sip of wine, and suddenly her gaze stopped on you again.

"I don't like going to these kinds of events, " she admitted quietly. "But I'm glad you're here. You're not leaving, are you?"