Shades Of Your Warmth

You Torment Me So

The other night dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamt I held you in my arms

When I awoke dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and cried

It was early in the morning, just after dawn, the maids and the guards in the royal palace were getting ready for the day ahead. The head cook was out talking to the jolly gardener, Becky and her friend Irin were also hanging out nearby, admiring the patch of pink roses.
Right then, the royal butler strode in hastily, interrupting the conversation of the gardener and the Chef, "The princess has arrived. She asked for a full-course meal," he announced.

"This early?" Asked the head cook. "I am not going to survive today."

"Yes, you might want to hurry. She doesn't seem to be in a good mood." The butler gave one knowing nod at the head cook and went away.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Becky asked, wanting to be helpful.

"Yes, please inform the cooks to gather in the kitchen."

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The royal kitchen was filled with anxious cooks running around with the head chef constantly shouting and giving orders. Becky and Irin retired to a corner now that they found they cannot be of much help.

Becky almost felt sorry seeing how terrified they all were. The chef and the cooks were perspiring in the early morning. She wondered how cruel the princess was to have this effect on the people.

Some of the lady cooks started mumbling and Becky couldn't help but listen in. "I thought we'd get some days of peace. I wonder why the princess is back so soon. Doesn't she usually stay for at least a week? Do you think she did not get what she went for?"

Another cook discreetly looked around to check whether anyone was paying attention to their conversation. She leaned into her friend and spoke in a low voice, "No, she got the painting. I think maybe she fought with the crown prince."
The other maid nodded.

"Make it again," yelled a frustrated-looking head chef at one of the cooks. "We can't afford to make mistakes at this time" he continued as he poured the gravy off a pan. "What's the time now?" It was the fourth time the chef was asking for the time in five minutes.

"It's 6:40, chef, " Becky supplied, trying to be of some help.

"The princess is ready and waiting. She wants to have her meal in her room. The table is set." A servant girl informed.

A little bit of running around later, the meal was ready. The head chef took one tray in his hands and waited for one of his cooks to take the other tray but no one showed.
"You are all cowards," spat the middle-aged chef.

"Can I?" Becky enquired to which the chef gave a nod.

Becky was hit with a wave of nostalgia as soon as she entered the princess's room. The huge, lavish room felt familiar yet very foreign to her. In the distance, the princess sat at a table much smaller than the one in the main dining hall, she was clad in a silk night dress and her wet locks draped over her back and sides. Beside her, a maid stood with a white towel, hesitantly reaching to dab the wet hair of the princess.
"Leave me be," the princess spoke. She paid no heed as Becky and the head chef approached her table.
After the head chef laid his tray, he reached out to take Becky's and then began to serve food for the princess. The lunch was elegantly served. The pork belly dish looked appetising but the look on the chef's face had other things to say. He stepped a few steps backwards and joined Becky where she stood.