A/N: I've finally broken the habit of two page Victor-centric oneshots. I'd really like to know what you think.
The rain pattered on the windows, adding further depression to an already excessively grey world. Inside the Everglott's mansion, the mood was no different.
The little girl sniffled again. She lifted up her bloodied finger and stared at it. This brought on a fresh wave of tears.
"That's what happens when you play with roses, Victoria." An intimidating voice said from far above her.
A tear ran down Victoria Everglott's cheek. "But it was so pretty, Mother. I didn't know it had all those scary thorns on it!"
"Next time look more closely." Maudeline Everglott was about to leave her daughter's room when she saw that she was about to wipe her finger on her pinafore. "Don't do that!"
Victoria jumped. "W-why not?"
"Because!" Maudeline snapped. "You'll get blood all over your white pinafore, and it is not suitable for a young lady to be seen with such a horrid mess on her! Hildegarde-"
"Yes, milady?" The little girl's middle-aged nurse replied mildly.
"Go and get her cleaned up. She looks positively filthy." This time, Maudeline did exit, muttering something about 'otters in disgrace'.
"Come on, dearie." Hildegarde took Victoria's shoulder, steering the eight year old towards the washroom. "Hildy'll make it all better."
"But it was so pretty…" Victoria mumbled.
"I'm sure it was, dearie. You can look at the roses any time you like, just don't touch them, or you'll hurt your pretty fingers again."
The little girl obediently let her nurse wash off the cut and change her into clean clothes. She was thoughtful during the whole process.
Finally, she asked, "Hildegarde?"
"Yes, dearie?"
"Why do pretty things hurt so much sometimes?"
Hildegarde considered the question momentarily. "Well, I suppose pretty things have to protect themselves just like anybody else. Otherwise, the bad little children would hurt the roses, and they wouldn't be pretty anymore."
"But I didn't want to hurt it!" Victoria cried. "I just wanted to hold it because it was so pretty."
The nurse shook her head with a faint smile. "Of course you did, dearie. But the roses have trouble telling the bad children from the good children. It wasn't your fault, or the roses."
The little girl sniffled one last time, and rubbed her eyes. "All right."
Victoria walked determinedly over to the flower lying in the middle of her carpet. "I'm sorry, rose!" she shouted.
"Sssh, dearie." Hildegarde said nervously. "It isn't ladylike to speak so loudly."
"Oh." Victoria said in a small voice. "Sorry."
She stepped over to the window. "I guess I can't do anything right." she whispered quietly.
Maudeline flung the door open. "Victoria!" she snapped. "Girl, if I've told you once, I have told you a thousand times, not to raise your voice! It is unbecoming of a young lady! Only spoiled peasant brats shout in such a vile manner!"
Victoria burst into tears. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother, so terribly sorry! I can't help being an ugly mess, I was just born that way!"
Her mother looked uncomfortable. "You aren't quite ugly, just...peculiar. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Crying never did anyone any good."
Hildegarde was amazed. Could Lady Everglott actually be attempting to...comfort her daughter?
Victoria sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Father says I look like an otter."
"And he's perfectly right." Maudeline said sharply. "Don't expect me to have the least bit of sympathy. But there's no use crying about it." She left again, this time closing the door in a more genteel manner.
Hildegarde leaned over and gave her little mistress a hug. "Don't you worry, dearie."
"But I'm not good at anything!" The little girl wailed. "I found out a new word yesterday- failure. It means me, because it's something that's all wrong. I'm a failure!"
"That's not true dearie." Hildegarde said firmly. "Your stiches are very small and ladylike."
"Well, they're small." Victoria said doubtfully. "And I've never stabbed myself with the needle."
"That's good enough for Hildy." Her nurse said encouragingly. "Even Lady Everglott does something she feels she's good at when things go wrong."
"So...I should sew?"
"It'll make you feel better, dearie."
The little girl reluctantly picked up the sampler she had been working on. She pushed the needle through the bottom of the fabric, then pulled it out, then repeated the process a few times very quickly.
There was a small 'V' on the bottom of the sampler in blue thread.
"I guess I do feel a little better."
But someday, I want to be happy. Someday I'll sew just because I like sewing.