Living Like a Mouse? How About a Lion?

Of Balls and Battlegrounds

Dinner was finally over, and thank heavens for that. Honestly, if I had to sit through another round of Derrick's cold glares or Reynold's smug smirks, I'd probably have hurled the child-sized cutlery at someone's head. As I was making my not-so-subtle exit, feeling pretty proud of myself for surviving yet another family meal, the Duke cleared his throat.

Of course, he did.

Because why let me leave in peace when you can make things even worse?

"I have an announcement to make," the Duke declared, rising from his chair with all the grandeur of a king addressing his loyal subjects.

Oh great, another royal proclamation.

I rolled my eyes, already halfway checked out, but his next words jolted me back into reality.

"We've been invited to the birthday banquet of the Crown Prince's brother."

Wait. 

What?

"His Highness, Prince Benedict, has personally invited our family to his birthday banquet," the Duke repeated, his eyes now zeroing in on me, as if this news somehow directly impacted my very soul.

I stared at him, blinking.

Ah. 

That Prince. 

The Crown Prince's younger brother.

This was the same Prince Benedict who had a reputation for being... well, less than ideal in noble circles. Known for his wild parties and tendency to cause chaos, his birthday banquet was bound to be nothing short of a battlefield. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

Probably both, if I'm being honest.

"Everyone is expected to attend," the Duke continued, his gaze locking onto mine like a heat-seeking missile. "Including you, Penelope."

Well, there it is. 

The punchline.

Reynold was leaning back in his chair, looking thoroughly entertained by the whole situation, while Derrick was sitting up straight, every inch the dutiful son, no doubt planning how to make the banquet as painful for me as possible.

I sighed. "Why?"

That single word carried every ounce of my frustration, confusion, and general irritation with this entire family. I mean, seriously—what could possibly be gained by forcing me to attend Prince Benedict's chaotic party?

"This is a royal invitation," the Duke said, as if that explained everything.

Yeah, because showing up at a party thrown by a wild prince with no filter is definitely the highlight of my life.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, I wouldn't want to embarrass the family in front of His Royal Highness. I'm sure the other noble families would love to see me there."

The Duke's eyes narrowed slightly, and I could tell he was losing patience. "This is not optional, Penelope."

"Well, forgive me for asking, but what exactly am I supposed to do there? Smile and nod while everyone whispers behind my back? Sounds like a blast."

Reynold, of course, couldn't resist throwing in his two cents. "Don't worry, Penny. I'm sure the prince will be too busy throwing his own tantrum to notice yours."

I shot him a glare that could have melted stone. "Oh, I'm not worried. But maybe you should be. Someone might mistake you for the court jester."

Before Reynold could fire back, the Duke cut in, his voice low and authoritative. "You won't be walking in with Derrick," he said, his tone almost... considerate? "Or Reynold. You can choose a knight to escort you if that makes you feel more comfortable."

Wait, what? 

Since when was that an option?

"A knight?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes at him. "That's... unusual."

The Duke shrugged like it was no big deal. "It's an unconventional situation. But you are free to choose your escort."

Well, this just got interesting.

Honestly, I wasn't exactly keen on walking into Prince Benedict's birthday extravaganza arm-in-arm with either of my delightful brothers. Reynold would probably find some way to humiliate me, and Derrick would just stand there pretending I didn't exist. But a knight? That was a game-changer.

"All right," I said, crossing my arms. "I'll walk with a knight. But I'm picking which one."

The Duke nodded, looking somewhat relieved that I hadn't completely rebelled against the idea. "That's acceptable."

Reynold was still watching me, his smirk widening. "Going for a knight, are we? How romantic."

I ignored him, focusing on more important matters. Like how I was going to survive this upcoming social deathtrap.

A ball. 

With the Prince who treats everything like a joke.

 What could possibly go wrong?

"Well, if we're done here," I said, rising from my seat with as much dignity as I could muster, "I suppose I'll go see which knight is unfortunate enough to get saddled with me as an escort."

"Penelope," the Duke called out as I reached the door, his voice softer than before. I paused, turning back to face him. His expression was one of concern, or maybe guilt. It was hard to tell with him.

"This is an important event," he said, his tone gentler now. "For our family."

Oh, here we go again. 

The 'I'm pretending to care but not really' speech.

I stared at him, feeling the weight of his words but not entirely convinced by them. After years of neglect and indifference, it was hard to believe that now—because of some royal banquet—he suddenly cared about me. Or at least, about how I'd reflect on the family.

I gave him a small, sarcastic smile. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to shine."

With that, I turned and left the dining room, my thoughts racing. A royal banquet for Prince Benedict. And I was supposed to walk in with a knight, no less. The whole thing was absurd. But then again, absurdity had kind of become my normal.

As I made my way to the training grounds, a smirk tugged at my lips. Prince Benedict's parties were infamous for being chaotic and unpredictable. And I had a feeling that this one was going to be a showstopper.

Time to go knight shopping. 

Let's see who's brave—or stupid—enough to escort me into this mess.