Serena turned her gaze toward me.
I felt my breath catch in my throat as I found myself staring into the most captivating pair of eyes I had ever witnessed. They were like polished amethyst gems, deep violet pools that seemed to hold depths of wisdom far beyond her tender ten years.
Despite her young age, Serena's beauty was already breathtaking in a way that spoke of the remarkable woman she would become. Her features held a delicate perfection that seemed almost ethereal – high cheekbones that would one day be the envy of court ladies, a small nose that turned up just slightly at the tip, and lips that formed a perfect cupid's bow.
Even at ten, she possessed an aura of regality that made it impossible to forget her royal lineage. When she reached adulthood, I had no doubt that princes from every kingdom would line up for the mere chance to court her, their heads bowed in reverence to her beauty and status.
Images of Serena as an adult from that strange dream-like game world I remembered. Even then, she had been stunning, but seeing her now in person, even in her childhood form, I realized those memories had been but a pale shadow of reality. The real Serena possessed a luminous quality that no dream could have captured.
"Does my new butler know basic etiquette, or is he simply a mute who enjoys staring?" Serena's voice cut through my reverie. Her tone was cool, measured, with just a hint of irritation as she narrowed those magnificent eyes slightly.
The sharp edge in her voice jolted me back to the present, and I became acutely aware of Sebastian's disapproving glare boring into me from my peripheral vision. His eyes held a warning that was clear: Don't embarrass me, or there will be consequences.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realized how long I had been standing there like some slack-jawed fool. Quickly, I dropped to one knee, placing my right hand over my heart in the traditional gesture of service and loyalty I had been taught just hours before.
"Forgive my momentary lapse, Your Royal Highness," I said, keeping my voice steady and respectful. "It would be my highest honor to serve you as your personal butler. I pledge my complete dedication to your service."
Serena observed my formal gesture with those penetrating violet eyes, her expression unreadable. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she let out a small, dismissive sound – somewhere between a scoff and a sigh.
"Hmph." She turned away from me, her attention returning to the maids who were putting the finishing touches on her morning toilette. "Since you were the one to train him, Sebastian, I suppose I shall trust your judgment in this matter."
Sebastian's posture straightened with obvious relief, though his expression remained professionally neutral. "Your faith in my abilities honors me greatly, Your Highness," he replied with a deep, respectful bow. "If I may, I would like to take my leave to attend to the morning's arrangements."
Serena gave a small nod of acknowledgment, her focus now on adjusting a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist. "You may go."
Sebastian bowed once more, but not before shooting me one final look that promised a lengthy discussion about proper behavior later. Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded completely.
Give me a break, I thought to myself, slowly rising from my kneeling position. I've been remembering a new life for less than a day in this world and I'm already making enemies.
As I straightened, I found Serena watching me again, her head tilted slightly to one side in a gesture that might have been curiosity. Her deep violet eyes seemed to pierce straight through to my very soul, as if she could read every thought and secret I carried.
The intensity of her gaze was unnerving, yet I couldn't help but feel relieved. This version of Serena – young, inquisitive, perhaps a bit imperious but not cruel – was nothing like the cold, calculating woman from those strange memories yet. There was still innocence in her eyes, still room for warmth to grow. If I played my cards right, if I could earn her trust and perhaps even her friendship, I might actually have a chance at survival in this dangerous world.
"Tell me truthfully," Serena said, "are you truly qualified to serve as a Princess's personal butler? Or did Sebastian simply take pity on some unfortunate soul and thrust you into a position far beyond your capabilities?"
I met her gaze directly, drawing on reserves of confidence I wasn't entirely sure I possessed.
"I am qualified, Your Royal Highness," I replied, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my chest.
Serena's eyes widened slightly at my response – perhaps surprised by the certainty in my tone, or maybe by the brief moment where I had answered without the proper address. I quickly added, "Your Highness," hoping to smooth over any potential offense.
Something flickered across her features – amusement, perhaps, or maybe approval at my quick correction. It was gone too quickly for me to be certain.
I cleared my throat softly and consulted the mental schedule Sebastian had drilled into me during our brief training session. "Your Highness, if we are to maintain your morning schedule, we should proceed to breakfast immediately. Your private economics lesson with Master Aldwin is set to begin in precisely one hour, and Cook has prepared your preferred morning meal."
For a moment, Serena continued to scan me with those remarkable eyes, as if weighing my words and finding them satisfactory.
Then she nodded once.
"Very well. Lead the way, butler."
I moved to open the door, ensuring it swung wide enough for her to pass through comfortably. As she glided past me, her three lady's maids following in silent formation, I caught the faint scent of jasmine and something uniquely her own – a delicate fragrance that seemed to embody both innocence and the promise of future elegance.
The corridor stretched ahead of us, lined with portraits of previous monarchs whose painted eyes seemed to watch our small procession. Serena's footsteps made barely a whisper against the polished marble, while her maids moved like shadows behind her.
As we walked, I couldn't help but steal glances at the young princess. Her posture was perfect, her bearing regal despite her youth. Every movement spoke of years of careful training in deportment and grace. Yet there was something else there too – a spark of intelligence in her eyes, a hint of curiosity about the world around her that hadn't yet been dulled by the weight of royal expectations.
We had been walking in comfortable silence for several minutes when Serena's voice suddenly broke through my contemplation.
"State your name, butler."
"Senay Fleming, Your Highness," I replied without hesitation, maintaining the steady pace beside her.
The moment the surname left my lips, Serena's steps faltered almost imperceptibly. She turned to look at me directly, her violet eyes widening with slight surprise.
"Fleming?" She repeated, her voice carrying a note of wonder that made her sound every bit the ten-year-old child she was. "You are Uncl—" She caught herself mid-word, her cheeks flushing the faintest shade of pink. "Victor's son?"
The near-slip was endearing in a way that tugged at something protective within me. She had almost called my father "Uncle Victor" with the unconscious familiarity of a child who had known him as family rather than merely a court official.
"Yes, Your Highness. Victor Fleming is indeed my father," I confirmed with a nod, watching as various emotions played across her expressive features.
"I see," she murmured, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she processed this information. There was a subtle shift in her posture – not quite relaxation, but a lessening of the rigid formality she had maintained. It was as if learning of my connection to someone she clearly trusted had created a bridge between us, however small.
We resumed our walk, and I noticed that some of the wariness had left her gaze when she looked at me now. It wasn't trust, not yet, but it was a start.
The dining hall stretched before us like a cathedral of marble and gold, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows above ornate chandeliers. The room was vast enough to house several families comfortably, yet for all its grandeur, it felt cold and impersonal. Long windows draped in deep burgundy velvet lined one wall, allowing filtered morning light to stream across the polished floor in geometric patterns.
At the center of this magnificent space sat a rectangular table that could easily seat thirty guests, its dark surface gleaming under the crystal chandeliers. The table was set with what appeared to be a feast fit for visiting dignitaries – silver platters laden with delicate pastries, crystal bowls filled with fresh fruit that must have cost a small fortune, ornate serving dishes containing eggs prepared in various styles, and an array of breads that filled the air with their warm, yeasty aroma.
It was a spread designed to offer choices, to cater to any possible preference or whim. Yet as my eyes took in the elaborate display, all I could think of was how utterly lonely it must be to face such abundance in complete solitude every morning.
I watched Serena's face as we approached the table. For just a moment, her carefully maintained composure slipped, revealing a flicker of hope in her eyes – as if, despite knowing better, some small part of her still expected to find her parents waiting for her at the table. When her gaze swept across the empty chairs, that hope died as quickly as a snuffed candle, replaced by a resignation that no child should ever have to wear.
King Maximilian Ruthelphia and Queen Loreina were always busy, Sebastian had explained during my brief orientation. Affairs of state, diplomatic meetings, court proceedings – the endless responsibilities of ruling a kingdom that left little time for simple things like sharing breakfast with their daughter. I understood the necessities of rule, but understanding didn't make the sight of Serena's disappointment any easier to bear.
She moved toward her customary chair when I thought that, her expression once again carefully neutral. I stepped forward quickly, my hand reaching for the high-backed chair before she could seat herself.
The chair was heavier than I had expected, its solid construction and ornate carving making it a substantial piece of furniture. As I pulled it back, the legs scraped softly against the marble floor, the sound echoing briefly in the vast space.
Serena paused, glancing at me with what might have been surprise. Perhaps previous servants had been less attentive to such courtesies, or maybe she simply wasn't accustomed to having someone her own age serve her in this capacity. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment, her brows furrowing slightly.
Did I do something bad here?!
Serena settled into the chair without indulging my doubts, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap as I carefully pushed the chair forward until she was properly positioned at the table. The routine felt strangely natural, as if I had been performing these small acts of service for years rather than hours.
Now came the part I was less certain about. The elaborate spread before us seemed designed more for display than actual consumption. Surely no one, not even a growing princess, could eat even a fraction of what had been prepared. But which items would appeal to her? What were her preferences? Sebastian's crash course in butler duties had covered the mechanics of service but not the nuances of Serena's individual tastes.
I moved to her left side, close enough to assist but not so close as to hover. "Your Highness," I began carefully, "would you prefer me to prepare a selection for you, or would you like to indicate your preferences?"
I began to formulate a response, drawing on Sebastian's hurried lessons about aristocratic dining preferences, when Serena's expression suddenly shifted. The brief warmth that had flickered in her eyes cooled rapidly, replaced by something sharper.
"You... preparing a selection for me?" She said, her voice having a tone that was almost scoffing. The way she emphasized the word 'you' made it clear she found the very idea presumptuous. Her violet eyes fixed on me with what could only be described as a scornful gaze, as if I had suggested something deeply offensive.
I felt a familiar throb of irritation pulse at my temple, but years of whatever discipline my past life had instilled in me kicked in. I maintained what I hoped was a pleasant, professional smile, even as my jaw tightened slightly with the effort.
"I have been instructed in the dining preferences of high aristocracy by Master Sebastian, Your Highness," I replied carefully, keeping my tone respectful despite the growing annoyance. "I merely hoped to spare you the inconvenience of having to specify each item individually."
Serena's eyes narrowed. "And does that mean you presume to know my personal tastes, Butler?"
This brat, I thought, fighting to keep my expression neutral. We were likely the same age, yet here I was, drawing on memories and experiences from what felt like another lifetime to maintain my composure in the face of a ten-year-old's imperious attitude. The strange maturity those other memories had granted me felt both like a blessing and a curse in moments like this.
"My deepest apologies for overstepping my bounds, Your Highness," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady and appropriately contrite. "I meant no presumption. I am here solely to serve according to your wishes."
A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Serena's lips, and I could see the pleased glint in her eyes as I backed down from what she had clearly interpreted as a challenge to her authority.
"Hmph," she made a small sound of triumph.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her entire demeanor changed. The sharp, calculating expression melted away, replaced by something that looked almost childlike in its enthusiasm. Her eyes began to shine with genuine excitement as she turned her attention back to the elaborate spread before us, scanning the various offerings with renewed interest.
"I want this," she announced suddenly, her small finger pointing decisively toward one of the more elaborate desserts on the table.
I followed her gaze and felt my heart sink slightly. She was pointing at what could only be described as a masterpiece of confectionery art – a layered cake decorated with sugar work, delicate cream roses, and what appeared to be candied violets. It was beautiful, undoubtedly delicious, and absolutely not appropriate for breakfast.
A cake? Right in the morning? For breakfast?
I must have hesitated a moment too long, because Serena's expression immediately shifted back to annoyance. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she fixed me with another glare.
"Are you daydreaming again, Butler?" She snapped. "Or do you perhaps have opinions about my choices that you'd like to share?"
Calm down, Senay, I told myself, taking a mental step back from the rising frustration. She's just a spoiled princess who's probably never been told 'no' in her entire life. This is what you signed up for when you accepted this position.
"Right away, Your Highness," I replied, my smile perhaps a bit more strained than before but still professionally intact.
As I moved toward the elaborate cake, carefully lifting a delicate porcelain plate from the stack nearby, a petty thought crossed my mind: Fine. She can eat cake for breakfast and get as plump as she wants. It's not my health or my figure.