Living Like a Mouse? How About a Lion?

A Seat at the Kiddie Table

After the Duke stormed out like a raging bull, I was exhausted. Physically, emotionally, mentally. You name it, I was done. So, naturally, I decided to do what any sensible person would do after a showdown with their delusional father—I took a nap.

Because self-care, people. 

Even in the middle of family drama.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of silence. For the first time in what felt like ages, no one bothered me. No maids throwing cold water on me, no brothers bursting in with life-altering confessions. Just blessed, peaceful nothingness.

I should have known it wouldn't last.

As the sun began to set, a knock came at my door. Not even five minutes of calm, and here we go again. One of the maids stood in the doorway, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Miss Penelope, you're expected at dinner."

Of course I am. 

Can't have a day without awkward family bonding time.

I sighed, dragging myself out of bed and brushing out my hair. Normally, I would have refused. I mean, what's the point of sitting through another meal where they pretend I don't exist? But after the morning's events, I was in no mood to be civil. This time, I was going to dinner.

And I was going to make it memorable.

The dining room was as stiff and formal as always, the chandelier casting a golden glow over the long table. Derrick and Reynold were already seated, both of them acting like nothing had happened. Typical. The Duke sat at the head, his expression grim but controlled, as if the earlier argument had been nothing but a minor inconvenience.

Well, let's see how long that lasts.

I took my seat—right at the far end of the table, like some distant relative instead of, you know, the Duke's daughter. And there it was. The first insult of the night. My cutlery. Again. The same tiny, dainty silverware set designed for a child. I stared at the fork for a second, half-expecting it to squeak when I touched it.

Lovely.

We're still playing this game.

I glanced over at the Duke, who was already digging into his meal like nothing was wrong. Derrick was engrossed in whatever bland conversation was happening between them, and Reynold... well, he was still brooding, though I could tell he was watching me from the corner of his eye.

Fine.

If they wanted to treat me like a child, I'd show them just how adult I could be.

And then, as if the universe hadn't thrown enough curveballs my way, I took a bite of my food. Salty. So salty, I thought my tongue was going to shrivel up and die right then and there. I had to fight not to gag. The cook, clearly, was out for blood.

Alright, gloves off. 

This means war.

I waited a few moments, letting the atmosphere settle, then casually stood up, as if nothing was wrong. My family glanced at me, curious but not alarmed. That would change soon.

With the calm grace of a beloved daughter (yes, I can be graceful when I want to), I reached over and picked up the Duke's plate. Without a word, I swapped it with mine, right in front of everyone. The Duke froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air as he stared at me.

Smile for the camera, Dad.

I sat back down and grabbed his fork, taking a polite bite of his perfectly seasoned, non-salty meal. The silence at the table was deafening. Derrick looked like he might pass out from the audacity of it all. Reynold, well... he was clearly torn between laughing and wanting to crawl under the table.

The Duke slowly lowered his fork, taking a piece of the new dish before him and then it happens, his eyes narrowing as he realized what had just happened. His gaze flicked between his now-salty food and me, who was daintily eating as if I hadn't just committed a minor act of rebellion.

For a second, I thought he might explode. But then, to my surprise, he did something worse. He called for the head chef.

Within minutes, the poor woman was dragged into the dining room, sweating bullets and wringing his hands. The Duke, who had remained ominously calm, didn't even look at her at first. He simply gestured to his plate.

"Do you care to explain this?" the Duke said, his voice cool and measured.

The chef blinked, clearly confused, but one look at the Duke's plate told him all he needed to know. His face turned white as a sheet.

"M-My lord, I assure you—"

"I'm not interested in assurances," the Duke interrupted, his voice dangerously low. "Why is my daughter's food inedible?"

Me: Oh, here we go. Damage control mode engaged.

The chef stammered, glancing between the Duke and me, clearly trying to figure out how to weasel her way out of this. But there was no weaseling to be done. Not today. Not with the Duke's patience stretched thin after everything that had happened.

"I-I don't know, my lord. There must have been some mistake—"

"No mistake," I cut in sweetly, smiling at him. "I think it was very intentional. After all, my meals have been seasoned like this for days. Isn't that right?"

The chef's eyes widened, and for a split second, I thought she might faint. But to her credit, she managed to stay upright, though she looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.

The Duke's eyes flicked to me, his expression unreadable. "Days?"

Yep. 

Time to twist the knife.

"Days," I repeated, my tone as innocent as possible. "But don't worry, I'm used to it. It's just... strange, you know? The food I'm given is always so salty, but everyone else's is perfect."

The Duke's face darkened, and I could see the slow burn of anger building behind his eyes. He didn't like being played for a fool, and this? This was making a fool out of him.

"Fix it," he said to the chef, his voice like ice. "Now."

The chef bowed so fast I thought she might snap in half, and she rushed out of the room, probably thanking every god he knew that the Duke hadn't tossed her out on the spot.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the tension at the table snapped like a taut wire. Derrick was practically fuming, clearly disgusted by the whole display, while Reynold was doing everything in his power to avoid laughing.

I continued eating calmly, as if nothing had happened, enjoying the brief moment of victory. Sure, it was small. But in this house, you take what you can get.

Well, that went better than expected.

 Guess I'm still here for now.