This story is written for ONC 2024 and is based on prompts 84 (main) and 9 (secondary)
Butter, formerly a human prince who went as His Highness Prince Dalton Buttercutter, is a kitten who has served the Woodgrip witches for the past twenty-four gen...
Butter was a boy once, but not anymore; he was a kitten now. No, not a cat, a kitten. A golden ball of fur blessed with the greenest pair of eyes and heightened senses, he had been called cute, adorable, sweet, beautiful, and everything else in between, and he loved it.
He had experienced the pleasures of having monarchs for parents as a human prince and the feeling of abandon washing over him as he walked the streets in his birthday suit now as a kitten. Births and deaths, he had seen his fair share of those, as well as joys and sorrows that kept his mistresses company.
The kitten had lived entire lifetimes with the witches he served, welcoming them into the world and letting them go when their time ended. It was a part and parcel of his long...very long life. All this and more defined him as he lived unchanged, untouched by time.
The kitten had heard wise men say that change is the only constant in life, and that's what had been stolen from him in a time- a brutal and unjust one- when those with magic were distrusted and feared just because they were different.
Lucky for him, times had changed for those who practiced magic and worshiped the kind and benevolent, albeit a little mischievous, Satan. Though the Magic Folk were no longer persecuted, their existence was still pretty much a secret. Those who knew... knew (and) those who didn't...didn't.
Truth be told, MMMB (Ministry of Management of Magical Beings) did not like to expose their existence unless absolutely necessary.
Cough, (human-magical) love marriages, cough.
Over the millenniums, many beings with magic in their blood had perished. Among those that survived were ones who could pass off for humans: witches and wizards. And the one thing these human-looking magical beings had- since time immemorial- liked having around them were their familiars.
Butter was (as far as he knew) the oldest familiar in service. He had always belonged to the Woodgrips. In truth, though, the feline believed it was the other way around; after all, he was their savior. Or so the kitten thought.
There were now only three things he truly desired: to end the Woodgrip curse, to find a match for Pepper (his current mistress) and a way to bring his thus-far immortal existence to an end.
This is Butter's story of realization, acceptance, and redemption.
*****
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