[center][h3]Juniper Delorano[/h3] [i][sub]"makes an ass out of herself, again."[/sub][/i][/center]
[hr]
Since her mother’s death, the act of having family dinners had always been a point of contention between Juniper and her father. She was quite fine with eating in her room, alone, unbothered, where she wouldn’t have to make small talk with her aunt and cousin as they pretended to give a single shit about how her day had been, and she wouldn’t have to lie and say that it had been fine—it was unbecoming of a lady to complain, or so her tutor had said, but apparently dishonesty was considered an attractive trait. She didn’t have to worry about where she was to put her elbows, or which fork she was to use, or how high she had to count before she could take another bite. Yet father would not allow her to skip out on their tradition, and so she would shake the silverware as she stomped into the dining room and slouched into her seat, muttering ungrateful words under her breath before eating a few bites of her meal and quietly excusing herself when her father was distracted by another. The only exception to this rule came when it was only Juniper and Leon attending dinner; then it was just shouting matches, slamming doors, and going to bed hungry. [i]Now, never again.[/i]

Juniper had entered the dining room in silence with her head hung low, her arms wrapped around her body as if she was afraid she would fall into pieces if not for them holding her together. She had sunken into her usual chair, the one that was far enough from the head that one would have to raise their voice to address her, and worked on making herself as small as possible in it until she disappeared entirely. Eventually she found a way to make herself little more than a black dress with white, gawky arms and a mess of brown hair and red eyes resting her chin on her knees. No sound came from her corner except the occasional muted sniffle or the scrap of a fork on a plate as she moved food around, none of it ever coming even close to going into her mouth.

[i]I don’t want to be here.[/i]

How long would it take before one of them felt obliged to come over to her, squeeze her on the shoulder, and lie through their fucking teeth while saying that everything would be alright? Would she be able to even try to force a smile, or a nod, or even make a noise of some acknowledgment that didn’t come out in the form of an ear-shattering shriek accompanied by the orchestra of her plate crashing against the wall? Would she be able to stop herself from diving a fork into their flesh and, if she did, would they then leave her alone? [i]I want to go[/i]. Nobody would blame her for just leaving, nobody would dare to even try. Yet if she got up she would draw attention to herself, and right now she wanted to be nothing more than invisible, forgotten, nonexistent.

[i]I should just go.[/i]

A sword clattered on the table and she jumped, her chair rocking precociously backwards before it found all four of its feet again. Juniper watched as the red wine pooled out from the pitcher, the liquid seeping into and creeping across the tablecloth as it darkened into a deep red like that of dried blood. Her eyes went wide and she felt her breath catch in her throat as her body went rigid, her knuckles white on her knees as her heart hammered against her chest. She had seen him, her father, lying on that table, carved up like their meal, his body contorted into an impossible position, his face frozen in a look of horror, his blood pooling around him, staining the tablecloth, staining Mother’s favorite tablecloth. The sound of Mel’s voice as it broke the silence as broke the phantasm, and Juniper’s eyes fell to the floor lest she caught someone staring at her. 

From the floor she followed Nalia’s feet as they approached the head of the table, her body bristling as her older sister sat in her father’s chair. Juniper didn’t care what the will said, she didn’t care that Nalia was the new head of their house, that was father’s chair, not her chair, just like how her aunt’s chair was not her aunt’s but her mother’s. They should remain vacant; there was no filling them. The tension from her fright did not soften as Nalia began to speak, already falling so easily into the role that had been left for her. She had always been so good at commanding the respect and attention of others, and it was only natural that she should be the next head of house. 

Still, that doesn’t mean that she had to sit in his fucking chair, not the same fucking day they had f—Juniper took a deep breath. She had to trust that her sister knew what she was doing. Nalia was smart, she wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize their house—are you fucking kidding me, Lorenzo? Does that mean he’d lead us if Nalia dies? 

Juniper could understand her sister not picking her, no way would she be able to deal with the responsibility needed, but it should’ve been Lucien. Juniper stared in horror, her jaw slack, as her own brother kowtowed to their sister’s colossal mistake. If not Lucien than certainly Pieter would’ve been a better option. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t really their blood, he was more family than Lorenzo. Their cousin might share their surname, but he was a Gatterro bastard through and through. He even wore their crest on that damn armor of which he was so damn proud. Plus, he was a creep; how much of their estate would he throw away in an attempt to lure in another woman into his bed? She watched with daggers in her eyes as her aunt squeezed her son’s shoulder. [i]No, no, no, this isn’t what Father would’ve done. This is wrong, wrong, wrong.[/i]

[i]I’m gone.[/i]

The young woman came up fast and her hands came down faster, the plates on the table rattling as she hit it with a sharp bang. Her chair had lost its balance in her upswing, and it hit the floor with a heavy, loud thud. She looked down the table, new tears forming in her bloodshot eyes as she fixed Nalia with a challenging staredown. Her sister had asked that they try and enjoy their meal in relative peace but, well, Juniper never really was good at any family dinners. 

She was prepared to give her stupid sister a piece of her mind, ready to unleash a verbal assault on all of them for being okay with all of this shit, and she was certain that her sister could tell by the look on Juniper’s face that a storm was about to come in. Yet then Juniper saw the stares of the rest of the house looking back at her, some seemingly surprised to see that she had even been in the room. Her head dropped quickly, and with it so too did the winds of fury die down as her cheeks went as red as the puffs around her eyes. So she had been pretty much invisible. [i]Well, isn’t that just typical?[/i]

“May I go?” she said, her voice hoarse and shaky, refusing to look at anyone in the room, her arms once again wrapping around her body like a suit of armor. “Obviously I’m not needed here, so…can I go?”