12. Palatial Pandemonium.

The royal palace was in chaos, servants dashing here, there, and everywhere. This had started the very instant word of the persnickety Princesses impending return had been announced. Absolutely everybody was dashing about like a group of decapitated fowl.

They’re running into each other so much they’re barely getting anything done. Thought Sebastian with a sigh. He had been the royal head butler for many years now, and it showed. From his silver-grey moustache and impeccably maintained suit, right down to his accent and mannerisms, he was the poster child for butlers everywhere. (If a poster child can ever be an accurate term for a 65-year-old, at least.) Even his name looked the part (he made sure of that, legal name change and everything)

So while they dashed about making a lot of noise, a hell of a mess, and not a lot of progress, Sebastian calmly set up the supplies, pressed a clean suit, polished his shoes so much that his reflections in them could see their reflections in his eyes, and basically made himself presentable.

Then, that done, he took over, straightening out the mess caused by uncoordinated panic.

Of course, it took some people far longer to calm down, which is why Sebastian utilised his secret weapon. A disapproving raised eyebrow. The one ultimate skill that had taken him many years of study to achieve.

If faced with a choice between that harmless-seeming stare, execution, or a sudden change in venue to the frontline, your average worker in the palace was willing to swear that would pack their bags for the new posting, or even contact the headsman to see when he could fit them in for a little off the top. Nobody had ever seen him angry, and they all prayed none of them ever would. The absolute worst they had ever encountered was when he became slightly peeved, and legend had it the person responsible had volunteered for a job as ambassador to the demonic empire the next week. Claiming he needed a holiday for his own mental health.

So at long last, peace was restored, and preparations could begin in earnest.

“Good grief”, Sebastian sighed. “You’d think it was a herd of stampeding buffalo approaching. This is the crown princess. How can you all be so unrefined? You know full well that while the young mistress may have a unique personality, she never does any real harm. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the young miss displays far more self-control and elegance than you just did, even on her very worst day. Shame on you all, and don’t think I didn’t hear that muttering. Her ladyship is a picture of grace and refinement.”

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The lecture was still hanging in the air when the palace doors swung open, and the very picture of grace and refinement skipped in, smothered in blood, in torn clothes........ with a gargantuan hatchet slung haphazardly over her back. A little ow-bear followed in her wake, in all she looked more like a barbarian queen than a Princess of the kingdom.

Confused mutterings echoed around the lobby as Sebastian shot said mutterers a warning glance (in his case, this is like a warning shot but scarier.)

Completely unruffled, at least on the outside, Sebastian rallied magnificently and gave a low bow. Then after a moment of horrified fascination, some shock, and a little confused gawping, the others followed suit. (With the exception of lady Primnproperlee who was unconscious from the shock. The poor woman had once over had the dubious honour of being the Princess's etiquette teacher.)

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Mibbet was in heaven; she had been introduced to the human concept of a bath. Water at last, and it was warm. On top of that, whenever she snapped her fingers, another human would appear and add more warm water. The only thing that was missing in this arrangement was a nice, comfy lily pad to rest on. (She really missed her lily pad.) She wasn’t sure why the water smelled so strange and why they added flower petals to it like that, but it was very much appreciated, even if they didn't look particularly tasty.

At first, she tried thanking the humans for their help, but after the third or fourth time, one had broken down in tears; she figured there was something wrong with that. So in order to spare herself from further drama, she looked back into the memories of others and figured out how best to address them without the whole crying, screaming, or begging for their life thing.

Honestly, she thought to herself. So far, being a princess was a huge pain in the hind end. But she was starting to see the upsides.

Alba, meanwhile, was over to one side, getting what can only be described as the pampering of a lifetime. Her feathers were oiled, her coat groomed, her claws and talons expertly filed. One of the people had even tried carefully tying a ribbon around her neck. That had, of course, barely lasted a femtosecond before being shredded to smithereens. But Alba was quickly convinced to put up with all the fuss when she tasted the food. The steak was a new experience for her. You don’t often see wild cows out in the woods after all, and supposing any did exist, they definitely would not tenderise, marinade, or season themselves. (Unless the alternative was a glare from Sebastian, in which case it was a safe bet, they would figure it out.) Then came the ultimate in owl-bear happiness, Honey glazed bacon pieces. Alba, though a wild creature at heart, was beginning to figure out what cats had long since realised. This domestication racket was a pretty good scam.

All you can eat, you poop in a box, and they take it away, nobody tries to turn you into a rug, and you can dash around causing as much chaos as you like, and it would be considered “cute.” Let the hoppy human handle all the drama, she thought to herself with a smug grin. She was content to be the pet in the arrangement, so long as they didn’t expect her to do anything.