Pecilia stood in a far corner of the ball but in view of the dancefloor, drinking to numb her frustrations. And after escaping a very undesirable dance partner, Jasper watched as man after man propositioned Pecilia and their immediate departure when one cold glare would send them sulking away with their tails between their legs. He laughed seeing her do it to yet another hopelessly optimistic guy.
"So he's completely given up now," Jasper commented, joining Pecilia in self-isolation and noticing her line of sight.
"As dumb as he is for it, it looks like he has." Pecilia moped, glaring at Algernon over her glass who was smiling like an idiot while dancing with Lucy. But she had to be more practical and detach herself from the situation when it was a grave Algernon dug himself and he would have to live with who ended up in it. But as much as Pecilia tried to convince herself she didn't care, the sweet red of her nectar couldn't mask how bitter the thought tasted.
"I have to say he lasted longer than I expected," Jasper said, clasping his hands behind his back.
Pecilia looked Jasper over with a scowl. "There's no excuse for what he's doing." She boiled. "If you knew the entire extent of the situation you would understand he is completely in the wrong."
"I do know the situation." Jasper shot back, minus the bitterness. "Maybe even better than you." He'd figured out Algernon recently, as he had Pecilia, and the many similarities the two shared. "Someone with as high expectations as him, who can never show weakness or a crack in his armor," Jasper spoke to the air but hoping it reached the deeper parts of Pecilia. "It must be such a relief to be around someone that doesn't see him as the armor he wears but the person he is underneath it."
Pecilia rolled her eyes as viciously as only she could. "I'm sure there are a million reasons to justify his inadequacies. But in the end, he's just selfishly giving in to his whims."
"A whim seems too much of an understatement," Jasper remarked, staring at the couple. The way they danced was far from perfect but the way Algernon looked at Lucy showed he thought nothing less of her. "A whim is eating dessert before dinner, or buying an extra pair of shoes you don't need." Pecilia lifted her eyes to watch the same scene as Jasper. "The way he's drawn to her is like a man in deprivation."
"He's grown up in the greatest wealth of this country," The scowling girl said. "He's deprived for nothing, which is why the first time there was ever something he shouldn't have, the spoiled brat decided he must take it."
"If he really did have everything, that wouldn't be true, now would it?" Jasper returned, as Pecilia's heated scowl faded into a doleful reminiscent pout.
She thought back to all the years she'd known Algernon. Most of it was in passing at parties, or big festival celebrations hosted in the capital. The first time she was really introduced to him was at her birthday party. Her father and mother had sent invitations to all the nobles across the country in hopes that the most eligible sons would come, but really their focus was on Algernon. It cost more money than their family could afford but they said it would be an expense paid off tenfold when their daughter became the wife to the sole inheritor of the Black estate. It was only Pecilia's 6th birthday then. She remembered her mother didn't let her play with the other kids because her hair and dress might get disheveled. They told her she needed to look above her peers to garner the attention from Algernon, who was only a child himself at the time and hadn't even looked in her direction once where she sat in her small throne on a stage resenting him for he got to run and play with all the other children while she was forced to watch. By the end of the night, his suit had cake stains and his black curly hair was in matted knots, while her's was pristine. After that day she decided she hated Algernon for ruining her fun, but that was just the start of his curse upon her life. At every event they dragged her too she had to be dressed to the nines with her hair and makeup done to flawless conditions. She had to sit at her vanity for hours as the maids dyed and ironed out every wave and curl in her hair until it was pin straight. The smell of burning hair was still something that made her nauseous to this day. But she never had anything to throw up because her family had only allowed her the meagerest food portions, so she would be the perfect dainty weight. They even started to dye her hair black, so she would stand out more.
When they were done adjusting her, they would stand her before a mirror and tell her how pretty she looked. Pecilia couldn't even recognize her own reflection than but they would compliment her and say she had so much potential.
It was then that she learned the word potential as they really meant it. When adults talked about potential, it always reflected their own interests. Algernon had potential because he could be used as their weapon. She had potential because she could marry rich and settle her family's debt. That word and the lesson it taught her was what made her stop caring about the opinions of the nobles because she knew they weren't going to care about her, just what she could do for them.
She started to hate Algernon less as she understood that, and she lost all her hate for him at his father's funeral, when he was only 8 and stood beside his father's casket on that unbearably cold winter day.
Algernon wore his father's ring for the first time that day, on a chain necklace. Now that she was older, she knew how heavy that ring really was held up by his small shoulders. He stood in that freezing cold weather for hours as everyone paid their respects but few actually looked at the face of the fatherless child but instead to the ring he now carried.
That's when Pecilia realized she and Algernon were the same. Forced into the fulfillment and wishes of the adults surrounding them. A crushing amount of pressure placed on their shoulders by those in their lives who saw "potential" in them.
And even the few who actually cared about his father, had just cried and shared their condolences with Algernon, relying on the child to ease their sadness, even though none of them could feel the extent of his los. They only added their sadness onto his burdens, something that continued to this day.
Algernon himself hadn't cried the entire time and everyone had praised him for being so strong. It inflamed Pecilia back then and still did now.
After the service when they gathered in the Black family grand foyer, Pecilia excused herself to the kitchens. The crowd of adults inside were suffocating and she thought she may be able to calm down if she was alone. But a child's voice interrupted her and asked,
"Did you need something?"
She didn't remember doing it but she remembered the feeling of blind rage as she punched Algernon.
He didn't even react or scream as the force of the blow sent him to the ground. Instead, he looked up at her. Her eyes were watering and he asked her why she was crying, which caused her to jump on top of him and pound his chest over and over again with her tiny fists. His question enraged her, and even more how he didn't fight back. Why am I crying? Why aren't you crying? She had wanted to scream that at him when she was younger but instead, she shouted "You're not strong!" With tears in her eyes, she repeated the sentence every time her small fists collided with his chest. She had only stopped because some red-haired gawky adult came into the kitchens and separated them. Still, as she was being dragged away she yelled. "You're not strong!"
Her father had apologized to Algernon and his family, saying she must have gotten jealous over the attention and compliments he was receiving.
Brickwood assured everyone that his cousin was fine, even with his cheek swollen.
It made Pecilia's stomach twist in disgust when she recalled how they praised him for concealing his pain. She could see the rift in him that had started to form then and only got bigger with time. As Algernon grew up he only became more emotionless and reserved. Never complaining or crying, or anything. Just bottling up even the greatest pains for the sake of everyone else, or maybe because he was too afraid to share them with no one to comfort him once he did.
That was what had really caused her outburst back then. She wanted him to feel pain and cry. So that everyone saw he wasn't unbreakable. So they would stop putting the pressure on him to be strong and start putting the pressure on themselves to console a child whose father had just died.
When Pecilia looked at Algernon now, she still saw that sad little cold boy past the exterior of the man he had grown into. And she had realized from him that children stop growing the day they are abandoned. They freeze like Algernon did when he was left in the cold snow by his father's coffin. And that coldness around him grew into the core of him as the responsibilities of his last name were thrust upon him and there was no room for him to heal from any sadness when he had to rise to everyone else expectations.
Pecilia knew it all too well, just as she knew how selfish and understandable it was for Algernon to cling to Lucy. To want some of that comfort she put off with her beautiful smile and untainted kindness. For some warmth to undo years of a frozen sadness in him. She understood him because she often thought if she had someone to show her that caring love then maybe the little girl that never got to play with the other children, who was only told she was pretty when she couldn't even recognize her own reflection, the little girl who was starved in a house full of food to remain bone-thin, then maybe she could smile again, like the way Algernon did when he danced with Lucy.
It made Pecilia's shoulder shake as soundless tears fell down her cheeks. Jasper noticed her silent cries and immediately stood in front of her so no one else could.
Anyone watching would mistake her tears for a jealous or scorned lover, but really Pecilia cried at the cruelty of the word for creating such broken children. And she cried because of all the events that led to her rooting against two pure souls falling in love. And she cried because despite what she knew was best she was happy. Happy to see that for the first time since his father's death that sad little cold boy smiling, and that there lived a small hope that she might one day be able to smile like that again too.
After Pecilia had regained her composure and wiped away the last of her tears, she smiled. It was an undaunted smile that showed off her stunning features and caught Jasper off guard by its beauty.
"Pecilia would you like to-"
"Fuck off." Pecilia instantly interjected. "I've really been far too kind to you if you think there's even a chance I'd dance with you."
"I was gonna offer to get you another drink," Jasper replied.
"No, you weren't."
"No, I wasn't," Jasper said with a grin on the corners of his lips despite the massive rejection.
Pecilia gazed down at her glass, but Jasper could see the hints of a blush creep up her neck. She was endearing in her own way, somehow very endearing.
"Pecilia!" Freya yelled, rushing behind her back. "Hide me."
Pecilia turned around just as Cecil barley stopped himself from crashing into her.
"Give her to me," Cecil demanded nostrils flaring.
Pecilia cocked one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, looking the artifact user up and over with her grandest bone-chilling sneer. "Try to take her and you won't have hands."
The look reminded Cecil of Algernon's but somehow much worse, and he instinctively backed down, but not without one more glare at the mouse.
Freya put her hand on top of her savior's padded shoulder. "Pecilia, you definitely are at the top of the food chain."
Pecilia eyed the girl wondering what she was on about but let it go. As there were already way too many people on her list to worry about.