***
"I have no interest in her."
Those were the first words her father ever uttered about her, spoken coldly while he held her mother's trembling hands, as if Penelope were nothing more than an afterthought.
"Papa!"
"Can we play?"
"Is papa busy?"
She reached for him with small, hopeful hands. But he never reached back.
Her mother, soft-spoken and frail, was the Emperor's fifth concubine. A girl sold for her beauty, not her worth.
A caged songbird too timid to fly, too tired to sing.
When Penelope awakened her powers, she thought, naively, that it would change everything.
Though her magic was not as astonishing or fearsome as her siblings', it was her beauty that stirred kingdoms and bent the will of men.
A beauty that became her weapon, her armor, her curse.
If he would not love her for her gifts, then he would see her.
So she stood taller. Louder. Crueler.
"Stand up straight, commoner!"
"What are the likes of you doing here?"
