Allowing Serena to devour pastries and cakes like a ravenous wolf during what was supposed to be a proper breakfast had been my first catastrophic mistake as her butler. The memory of her delicate fingers tearing through croissants and her lips stained with strawberry jam haunted me as I watched the consequences unfold.
Now, as I observed her sluggish movements and the way she kept pressing her hand to her stomach, I finally understood the weight behind Sebastian's stern warnings about maintaining the Princess's daily schedule. The old butler's weathered face appeared in my mind, his eyes boring into mine as he'd said, "Make sure Her Highness respects her routine, young man. Everything depends on it."
But the bastard should have given me a manual on how to actually make a stubborn princess eat like a civilized human being instead of leaving me to figure it out through trial and error!
Sebastian had been Serena's butler since she was in swaddling clothes. He was a distinguished gentleman with silver hair and a voice that commanded respect—someone Serena had grown up trusting implicitly. When he spoke, she listened. When he suggested something, she considered it. But me? I was nothing more than a ten-year-old boy thrust into a role far beyond my years, barely older than the princess herself. In her eyes, I wasn't a figure of authority to be respected; I was just another brat in fancy clothes who happened to carry around a tea tray.
"I want to rest," Serena announced, her voice heavy with the particular exhaustion that comes from a sugar crash. She lifted a crystal glass of water to her lips with trembling fingers, taking delicate sips as if the simple act of swallowing had become laborious.
I watched her pale complexion and the way she kept shifting uncomfortably in her velvet armchair. After consuming enough pastries to feed a small village—treats that should have been enjoyed in moderation over the course of a week—she certainly deserved to feel miserable. The logical part of me wanted to let her retreat to her chambers and suffer the natural consequences of her gluttony. Perhaps a bout of stomach pain would teach her better than any lecture I could deliver.
But I couldn't allow that luxury. Not when my father's reputation hung in the balance alongside my own. He had secured this position for me through careful political maneuvering and years of loyal service to the crown. This wasn't just a job—it was my family's future, our standing in the nobility, and proof that the son could live up to the father's legacy. If I failed to keep the Princess on schedule, if I allowed her to skip her lessons and neglect her duties, the blame would fall squarely on my shoulders. The whispers in the corridors would be merciless: "The boy couldn't handle a simple task," they'd say. "Like father, like son—except the son is weaker."
I straightened my shoulders and cleared my throat. "Your Highness, I believe Master Aldwin is currently waiting for you in the study room."
Serena's violet eyes snapped to mine with the intensity of winter lightning. "Are you ordering me to go there?"
"Not at all, Your Highness," I replied, choosing my words as carefully as a diplomat walking through a minefield. "However, I believe the future Queen of Ruthelphia may need extensive knowledge of economics and trade to effectively rule our kingdom one day."
The reminder of her birthright and the heavy crown that would one day rest upon her golden head hung in the air between us. I watched her face carefully, noting the way her jaw tightened and her fingers gripped the water glass more firmly. For a moment, her carefully constructed mask of royal indifference slipped, revealing something raw and vulnerable underneath—the weight of expectations, perhaps, or the fear of failing her people.
Serena's fierce glare gradually faded, replaced by an expression that looked almost lost. She stared at the ornate carpet beneath her feet, and I caught a glimpse of the young girl beneath the princess—someone who carried the hopes and fears of an entire kingdom on her slender shoulders.
"Hmph," she muttered, rising from her chair with the resigned grace of someone who had grown up knowing that duty always came before personal comfort.
I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Despite her protests and dramatics, she was going to do the right thing. There was something admirable about that, even if she'd never admit it.
And that was cute to be honest.
But my moment of satisfaction was short-lived. Serena's head whipped around toward me, her eyes catching the remnants of my smile like a hawk spotting prey. I quickly schooled my features back into neutral professionalism, but it was too late.
Her frown deepened, and I could practically see the gears turning in her mind as she filed away this moment for future reference. "Enjoying yourself, are you?" She asked coldly.
"Of course not, Your Highness. I live only to serve," I replied smoothly, though internally I was cursing my lack of self-control.
With a final withering look, Serena swept past me toward the door, her silk skirts rustling with each step.
I fell into step behind her, maintaining the proper distance as we made our way through the castle's labyrinthine corridors. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the stone walls, hers clicking sharply in her heeled slippers, mine softer in my leather boots.
The study room, when we finally reached it, was a proof to royal excess and the importance of education in the royal household. Towering bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound tomes on everything from ancient history to modern philosophy. A massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface polished to a mirror shine and adorned with an ink well made of silver, several quills, and neat stacks of parchment. Tall windows overlooked the castle gardens, their heavy velvet curtains drawn back to let in the afternoon sunlight that cast dancing shadows across the room.
It was certainly grand enough for a single student, but then again, that student was destined to rule over millions of people one day.
Master Aldwin was already present, standing beside a smaller chair positioned near the desk. He was an elderly man with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles, his white hair neatly combed and his beard trimmed to perfection. Despite his advanced age and the way he leaned heavily on a walking stick, he bowed his head respectfully as we entered.
"Your Highness," he greeted, "I trust you are ready for today's lesson on international trade agreements?"
Serena took her designated seat, smoothing her skirts and folding her hands in her lap like the proper princess she'd been trained to be since birth. "Yes. I am ready to learn. Don't waste my time."
I was about to quietly excuse myself and retreat to wherever it was that butlers went during their charges' lessons when Serena's voice stopped me cold.
"Where do you think you are going, butler?"
I turned slowly, hoping I'd misheard her. "I do not wish to disturb Your Highness during her studies..."
Her eyes glittered with something that might have been amusement or malice—with Serena, it was often difficult to tell the difference. "You wouldn't dare disturb me. Since you are so concerned about my kingdom and my duties," she said, emphasizing the words with a slight mocking tone, "you should listen as well. After all, how can you properly serve a future queen if you don't understand the complexities of ruling?"
I looked at her.
This wasn't really about my education—it was about power, about her establishing dominance in our strange new dynamic. She wanted to see if I would back down, if I would find an excuse to escape, or if I would rise to meet her challenge.
Master Aldwin looked between us with curious eyes, clearly sensing the undercurrent of tension but too polite to comment on it.
"As you wish, Your Highness," I replied, moving to stand near the wall where I would be present but not intrusive.
Serena's lips curved into what might charitably be called a smile. "Excellent. Now then, Master Aldwin, shall we begin? I believe my butler could benefit greatly from understanding the finer points of economic policy."
As the lesson commenced and Master Aldwin began explaining the intricacies of trade routes and tariffs, I realized that my real education was just beginning. Learning to be Serena's butler wasn't just about managing schedules and serving tea—it was about navigating the complex web of politics, personality, and power that surrounded the future queen.
And despite the circumstances that had led us here, despite her moodiness and my inexperience, I found myself genuinely curious about what Master Aldwin had to teach. Perhaps Serena had a point after all—how could I hope to serve her effectively if I didn't understand the world she would one day rule?
Beyond the immediate necessity of growing stronger and more capable in my role, I knew that securing my very survival depended on one crucial factor: earning the trust and favor of the future Queen herself. The stark reality was that I would either learn to navigate the treacherous waters of serving royalty, or I would find myself cast aside—or worse, eliminated—at the first sign of displeasure.
The stories whispered in the servants' quarters painted a terrifying picture of what Serena might become. Tales of the "Tyrant Queen" who would one day rule with an iron fist, who might order executions based on nothing more than a sour mood or a perceived slight. The thought of serving such a monarch, of walking on eggshells every day wondering if my next breath would be my last, was clearly not a good feeling.
But I refused to accept that fate as inevitable.
I had something that the other servants lacked—knowledge of what was to come, memories borrowed from dreams of a life I'd never lived. Most importantly, I had hope. I was confident, perhaps foolishly so, that I could guide Serena away from the dark path that seemed to beckon her. If I could help her become a just and wise ruler instead of a tyrant, then I wouldn't just be securing my own survival—I'd be saving the entire kingdom from a reign of terror.
The question was whether a ten-year-old girl, no matter how intelligent, could be swayed from a destiny that seemed written in stone.
Master Aldwin's economics lesson stretched on like a particularly tedious form of torture, each minute feeling like an hour as he delved into the intricate details of international trade agreements, currency exchange rates, and agricultural export policies. His voice, though kind, took on a droning quality as he explained the nuances of grain subsidies and textile tariffs. After the first hour, I found my head spinning with information that seemed to blur together into an incomprehensible mass of numbers and terminology.
My eyelids grew heavy as Master Aldwin launched into a detailed explanation of the economic implications of the Northern Territories' mining rights. I caught myself nodding off twice, jerking back to alertness only when I realized my head had started to droop.
By the second hour, I had essentially given up any pretense of following the lesson. My mind wandered to more pressing concerns: how I would manage Serena's lunch without another pastry catastrophe, whether I could convince her to take a proper walk in the gardens, and what other disasters awaited me in my new role.
It was during one of these mental wanderings that I happened to glance at Serena, expecting to see her in a similar state of boredom or perhaps quietly rebelling against the lengthy lesson in her own subtle way.
What I saw instead stopped my thoughts cold.
Serena sat perfectly straight in her chair, her small hands folded neatly on the desk before her, her deep purple eyes fixed intently on Master Aldwin with an intensity that seemed almost supernatural. There was no trace of the petulant child who had devoured pastries like a wild animal just hours before, no hint of the mischievous princess who took pleasure in making my first day difficult.
This was someone else entirely.
Her gaze held a sharp intelligence that seemed far too mature for her ten-year-old face. She absorbed every word Master Aldwin spoke with the focused attention of a scholar, occasionally nodding almost imperceptibly when a particularly complex concept became clear to her. When she asked questions—and she did ask them, thoughtful inquiries that demonstrated not just comprehension but genuine analytical thinking—her voice carried an authority that made even the elderly tutor straighten slightly in response.
This was the expression of a true Royal Princess. This was the face of someone born to rule.
The transformation was so complete, so startling, that I found myself staring despite my better judgment. How could the same person who had giggled while feeding herself cake frosting with her fingers now discuss the economic ramifications of port taxation with the gravity of a seasoned minister?
And she was only ten years old.
Here I was, armed with the memories and experiences of a twenty-year-old man from dreams I barely understood, and yet I had struggled to maintain focus for even half the lesson. I possessed what I had always believed to be a photographic memory—a gift I had taken pride in throughout my life—yet the dense economic theories had overwhelmed me within an hour.
Serena, by contrast, seemed to understand everything immediately and completely. Not only was she following Master Aldwin's complex explanations, but she was building upon them, making connections that even I, with my supposedly superior mental faculties, had missed entirely.
She must have had more than just a photographic memory—she possessed true intellectual brilliance.
I had always been proud of my ability to absorb and retain information quickly. It had been my greatest academic strength, the thing that set me apart from my peers and earned me praise from tutors and family alike. But watching Serena, I realized that my gift came with limitations. I could memorize facts and figures with ease, but I grew tired when forced to concentrate on subjects that didn't naturally interest me. The moment my personal investment waned, my attention scattered like leaves in the wind.
Serena, however, learned and understood with perfect clarity not because the subject fascinated her personally, but because it was her duty to do so. She had somehow trained herself to find relevance and importance in every piece of information that would help her rule effectively, regardless of her personal preferences. The weight of future responsibility had forged her mind into something remarkable—a tool of perfect focus and comprehension.
In that moment, watching her navigate complex economic theories with the ease of someone twice her age, I felt something unexpected: she motivated me.
If a ten-year-old girl could maintain such perfect concentration for hours simply because it was expected of her, then surely I could do the same. I straightened in my position against the wall and forced myself to tune back into Master Aldwin's lesson, determined to absorb whatever remained of his instruction.
The final thirty minutes passed more quickly as I engaged my mind fully, taking mental notes on trade route security and the delicate balance of international diplomatic relations through commerce. By the time Master Aldwin began gathering his materials, I felt as though I had actually learned something valuable—knowledge that might indeed help me serve Serena more effectively in the years to come.
When the lesson concluded, Serena rose from her chair with fluid grace, but the transformation back to her usual self was immediate and jarring. The focused, analytical princess vanished, replaced once again by the aloof young girl who seemed to view the world around her as a series of minor inconveniences. She didn't spare so much as a glance for Master Aldwin, didn't offer a word of thanks for his time and expertise, and simply walked toward the door as if the elderly man were nothing more than furniture.
I watched this dismissal with a mixture of disappointment and concern. The brilliant mind I had just witnessed was undeniable, but her lack of basic courtesy toward someone who had dedicated his afternoon to her education troubled me. A good ruler needed more than intelligence—they needed the ability to recognize and appreciate the efforts of those who served them.
As Serena disappeared through the doorway, I turned my attention to Master Aldwin, who was slowly and carefully gathering his papers and materials. His movements were quite sluggish, the actions of a man whose joints protested against long periods of standing and whose hands perhaps didn't move as nimbly as they once had. Despite having just spent two hours sharing his considerable knowledge, he seemed tired but not bitter about Serena's abrupt departure.
I approached him quietly, extending my hands to help with the stack of papers he was struggling to organize. "Allow me, Master Aldwin."
He looked up with genuine surprise, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Oh... thank you, young man. You must be Her Highness's new butler? May I know your name?"
"Senay Fleming, Master Aldwin," I replied, carefully taking the papers from his trembling hands and organizing them into a neat stack.
His eyebrows raised slightly, and recognition dawned in his expression. "Fleming? You wouldn't happen to be Victor's son, would you?"
When I nodded in confirmation, he chuckled—a rich, genuine sound that filled the quiet study room. "Ah, I thought I recognized something familiar about you. Your father is a good man, one of the finest I've had the pleasure of knowing in all my years at court. I can see that you've inherited his kindness as well as his sense of duty."
The praise warmed me more than I had expected. In a place where I often felt out of my depth and uncertain of my abilities, hearing that I reminded someone of my father felt like an anchor to something solid and worthwhile. "Thank you for today's lesson, Master Aldwin. Despite my... initial struggles with concentration, I learned a great deal."
The elderly tutor chuckled again, accepting the organized papers with grateful hands. "As a teacher, there is no greater joy than hearing those words. Few people take the time to acknowledge the value of education these days, particularly those in service positions. Your attention and gratitude mean more than you know."
"I should be the one—"
"BUTLER!"
Serena's voice cracked through the moment like a whip, echoing from somewhere down the corridor with visible irritation. The imperious tone suggested that my absence had already been noted and disapproved of, and that delay would only make matters worse.
I immediately straightened and offered Master Aldwin a quick, respectful bow. "I must go. Thank you again for including me in today's lesson."
"Of course, young Fleming. I suspect we'll be seeing more of each other in the weeks to come." He smiled knowingly.
I pressed the organized papers into his hands one final time, ensuring he had a firm grip on them before releasing my hold. Then, with as much dignity as I could muster while responding to such an imperious summons, I strode quickly toward the door and the undoubtedly impatient princess who awaited me.