Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
Tilting her head ever so slightly upward to marvel at the sheer grandeur of the manor she still considers troublesome to register as her own, Cruella finds herself in a rather uncharacteristic and accordingly displeasing state of being: one of uncertainty and its concurring abornment of discomfort. Though any outsider looking in would quite simply declare it incomprehensible that one could harbor any sentiment but that of pure bliss upon being named mistress of one of England's most extravagant residences, not to mention the entitlement of an inordinate sum of money to accompany it- honestly, from the jubilant demeanors her friends have clearly engendered that she need not even turn around to recognize, what with their increasingly irksome, audible displays, she's not convinced it'd have to be an outsider anymore- such an outsider would have no ability to conceptualize the sense of near betrayal that arises from a woman whose goal it has always been to disenfranchise establishments preserved upon injustice like the rankings of the corrupted elite the former owner had unabashedly been apart of suddenly finding herself enveloped by the wealth she's only ever known to accompany evil. It is not the money that is evil, she must remind herself beneath the rumblings of her company, but the people who use it to act unfairly. Just as she's steadied her breath and regained some sense of control, even if but a semblance of it, she's once again thrust into utter turmoil as Jasper introduces an element of accountability to the statement she'd tossed out moments before.
"Go on," he says, his mouth upturned into what she knows is a show of approval, subtle as it may be. Though she'd never show it, as she's all too familiar with the innate threat vulnerability poses to her, she's pleased with his apparent excitement. Try as she might, the only way Cruella is possibly able to avoid seeking that from him, her "who cares what anyone else thinks" mentality be damned, is through literal delusion- forcing herself to believe he means nothing to her- which she'd tried in the recent past but at the all too severe cost of nearly losing him. She can only hope he understands that she'd never done it with the intention of hurting him. It was her only option. Had she taken his or Horace's counsel into consideration, she may well have not been able to muster the mental strength she needed to reject the social conditioning that had confined her for all her life in order to follow through with her retributive quest to do right by her mother and failing her again was something she refused- refuses- to do. Oxymoronic as it may seem, shutting them out was the act that allowed her to set herself free, at least at that time in her life where apprehension centered around upending her socially acceptable caricature of the real person lying beneath inhibited her ability to embrace her true self. Still, she'd resented and continues to resent having to indirectly hurt her family in any way, regardless of the necessity. As a firm believer in actions speaking far louder than words, she'd figured her resolve to free them of the Baroness' schemes as she risked dire repercussions to do so attested to her want to treat them well, but perhaps it'd be best to vocalize her intentions regardless. Another part of her knows she can't avoid acknowledging the hurt they'd caused her, and what's more, the ambiguity- or perhaps, denial- she's harbored regarding those intentions. Knowing that Jasper's insight has always been of a quality far beyond his years, Cruella cannot logically posit that he wasn't clear on her intentions (as for Horace, it's hard to tell) and she is nothing if not logical. With this being so, why then did he seem to want to punish her? While no stranger to losing the ones she loves, Jasper and Horace's indifference to her confiding in them that her entire life had been built on a foundation that didn't even exist- or at least not in the way she'd always been led to believe- has haunted her from the moment they'd risen to leave her without a single regret. As if she hadn't spent every moment contributing not only to their livelihood, if one could call it that, but to their very survival as long as she'd known them. Sure, they'd come around in the end, but not before she'd had to plead with them, the quiver in her voice revealing her fears of further attacks by the Baroness. The way she sees it, people who love and care for each other shouldn't have to ask one another for support, nor should they have to bargain for it. It's something that simply should be and something that simply had been for the better part of a decade amongst the three of them. As such, her resort to desperation, not to mention the hesitancy they'd displayed in the weeks before at helping her avenge the woman she loves with every inch of her being makes her question the state of their relationship. In any case, there are a number of reasons Jasper's query seems simple enough to answer but in reality, is anything but.
"I just mean you'd said you had a few ideas just a second ago, so…?" he tries, now looking at her with alarm. Apparently, she'd been in her head for just a little too long to avoid concern. Well that's something, though, isn't it? That he's concerned for her? Lest she descend back into her cascade of overthinking, she suppresses her feelings (something she finds comes in handy as emotion, more often than not, only complicates matters), willing them away with the flick of her wrist and reasserting herself as the confident, untouchable woman she is.
Would like to be?
Far too often, she finds herself to be her most formidable adversary.
Is.
"Oh but of course, darling. When do I not?" With the draw of her cane and subsequent smack unto the seemingly infinite marble enclave, her dominance reverberates resoundingly across to anyone in the room who'd read her pause as some kind of weakness. Cruella anchors the dense hunk of metal, producing one final roar for good measure, at the center of an intricate pattern on the floor. Now that the stage has been set, she can unveil her manifesto.
"All my life, I've been sequestered to the shadows as the result of my circumstances. In this world, without money, you're without value. To them, anyway. Well, the reign of the tyrant and all the vermin that kept her relevant is no more. We're going to show the world what worthiness truly is. That respect is something one earns, not something they're entitled to. At last, the House of de Vil can rise. Long may she live."
And with that, Cruella blows a kiss, pivots masterfully on a razor-sharp heel in what's for all intents and purposes a defiance of the physics that should render this impossible, and summons Buddy, perhaps her only true confidante, to join her upstairs, leaving her onlookers to quiver in her wake.
Leave no room for doubt.
She is a force who was manipulated into being brought to heel for far too long, eager to make up for lost time in the spotlight she's always deserved.
Long may she live, indeed.