Weekly Pink Bubbles
Chapter 1
The throne Princess Stella knows best is the single sofa by the window in the living room, because it gets the best sunlight. It’s also perfectly positioned for her to reach out a paw, give the window a push, and instantly launch a new adventure.
First Knight’s post is a cushion printed with little blue fish, placed on the rug beside the throne. He is always there, a silent guardian. When the Princess moves, he lies down; when she stretches out into a “cat loaf” on her throne, he stands up, for the guard must be on duty.
Their life at home is peaceful and orderly—until Princess Stella decides to expand her bedchamber.
Unlike her usual raids on human bedsheets and curtains, this time she sets her eyes on the Knight’s own fluffy, soft fur, which shimmers like a cloud in the sunlight. To her, it is clearly the world’s finest nesting material.
Chapter 2
First Knight has always granted every wish of Princess Stella. Whatever she desires, he serves. But a request like this… perhaps even the Princess feels too shy to ask directly. And so, she begins her secret project.
Now she actively approaches the Knight—whereas before she would only rub against him when she needed something or was tired and relaxed—pressing her elegant black head against him, grooming him with her barbed tongue, and incidentally “collecting” some of his loose fur. First Knight always sits upright. Whether he's flattered, simply slow to react, or just willing to indulge the Princess in everything, his throat vibrates with a contented purr, permitting her actions. He even leans slightly to the side, giving her access to more plentiful areas.
However, Her Highness is too much of a perfectionist. In a drowsy patch of afternoon sun, considering the edges of her bedchamber need more reinforcement, she gets a bit careless and applies too much pressure—her claws digging in a little too deep.
"Meow-ow!" First Knight, startled by the sting, instinctively leaps up, his white fur erupting into a flurry of snow.
A cat’s reflexes are harder to control than a human’s. This is certainly no act of “disrespect” or “rebellion” against the Princess, but his sudden movement sends the precious little pile of white cloud—the one the Princess had been secretly gathering and patting down with saliva beside him for days—scattering everywhere.
The downy fur drifts lightly across the floor, blending into the ordinary rug fibers, lost forever to the common pile.
Princess Stella freezes. She stares at the few white strands still caught on her claw, then at the Knight, who looks utterly innocent, still licking the spot she pulled. A mix of heartbreak and wounded dignity surges up.
She lets out one cold, offended "Meow," then turns and leaps down from her throne. Her black tail shoots up like a flagpole as she vanishes into the deepest shadows under the bedroom bed.
Without the Princess occupying it, the throne sits empty and still.
The Knight’s furry paws pause. He remains at his post on the fish-patterned cushion, gazing toward the bed. He offers a few soft, confused, and apologetic mews, but receives no reply.
Uh oh. The very atmosphere in the kingdom freezes.
Chapter 3
The human notices something is wrong.
Because the white cat, who is rarely seen without the black cat, has come to find her—a rare occurrence.
The white Knight looks somewhat dejected. "Meow, meow—" He is asking for help.
Following the Knight, the human moves from the study to the living room. She sees the white fur on the floor, then the downcast Knight and the empty throne, and understands.
She doesn’t force Princess Stella out from under the bed. Instead, she brings out her secret weapons: a brand new, incredibly soft cat bed and a brush. Cradling the Knight, she brushes him gently, collecting the cleanest, fluffiest, top-tier white down.
Then, she carefully tucks the white down into the very heart of the new bed, creating an invisible “comfort core” that breathes the Knight’s scent.
That evening, the new bed is placed between the Knight’s cushion and the Princess’s throne.
Chapter 4
When night falls and only a single warm lamp glows in the study, a dark figure quietly slips from beneath the bed. Step by step, she pads softly across the dim living room floor.
Princess Stella scans the room, then fixes on the new bed. She approaches and sniffs—sunlight, human, and, most of all, the familiar, reassuring scent of First Knight.
She presses a testing paw. The supremely soft texture finally wins her over. Slowly, gracefully, she curls up in the new bed and lets out a loud, contented purr.
The Knight, who had been feigning sleep all this time, finally opens his eyes. He rises, not to reclaim the Princess’s old exclusive throne, but to drift over and settle along the new bed’s edge, his white body circling that black bundle in warmth.
Princess Stella doesn’t resist. Instead, she shifts closer to him.
In this moment, titles and posts are forgotten.
Here, what matters is the soft, warm breath of a loved one against your fur—the safest home in the world.
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