Title: A Cat May Look at a Princess
Day/Theme: 2nd September/"a cat"
Series: A Little Princess
Character/Pairing: implied Sara/Becky
Rating: PG

The kitchen cat is an ill-tempered mog; she hisses and spits at all who try to feed her and so the job falls to the smallest, and poorest, and therefore weakest drudge labouring below stairs. It used to be Becky's task, this Sara knows from the times she has kissed the scratches on Becky's hands better, and because she tries so hard to remain the princess she used to be, she tries to be grateful that she is able to take at least one burden from Becky's shoulders.

Becky, because she is a greatly valiant princess, tries to spare her sister who has only recently fallen on hard times, and feeds the cat without any prompting from Cook for the first few days. Nobody notices it, only that the beast has been fed, but a week after Sara's birthday Becky is called out on an errand before she can do so.

"Oi, girl!" All the maids there look up, but Cook is pointing at Sara. "Feed that dratted creature, won't you?"

Sara nods and starts collecting scraps into a bowl. When the others have turned away, dismissing the chance of sport, she kneels down near the cat and holds a handful of them out to her.

"Here, pussy," she says softly. "Here's breakfast."

The cat hisses and slaps at Sara's hand with a claw. She stumbles back, dropping the handful and only barely managing not to cry out.

"Look at that mess! You'll have to clean that up, you know," comments the maid closest to her, who is only the third smallest and likes to enjoy the little power she has by crowing over Becky and Sara.

"Yes," Sara chokes out in reply. She squeezes her eyes shut to hold back the tears and goes over to the sink to run her wounds under the tap. Then she cleans up the little mess she has made, while the cat glares at her out of one yellow, malevolent eye and curls triumphantly around the bowl. The cat, the third smallest maid and Lavinia are all sisters under the skin, Sara is sure, not princesses but wicked queens and doesn't feel one bit sorry for the uncharitable thought. A heart that could be cruel to Becky must be shrivelled somewhere.

That night, up in their little attic rooms, they sit on Sara's bed and Becky takes Sara's hands.

"I don't mean to be impert'nent, miss," she whispers, "but you allus used to do it for me and it made me feel that much better, so – " she presses her lips carefully, but briefly, to the scratches. When she looks up, her cheeks are pink and her gaze is shy, but Sara throws her arms about her.

"Oh, Becky!" she says in a low tone, and there is a sob in her voice. "Becky!"