"Yer! Lil G'rl! W'ere 'ave yer been?! T'ere is a moun'ain of dir'y dis'es!! Ge' 'o WORK!!"
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"Sorry, ma'am!" The little girl, alleged Daisy, tip-toed inside, her bare feet tapping against the cold marbeled floor. The kitchens were bustling with life, even at the darkest hours of night, as the Head Chef would be wracking his brains in pursuit of a new dish and his assistants would be prepping ingredients brought over from the Outer World whilst slaves like Daisy would be washing the dishes.
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The dishes were unending because the people were innumerable and their appetite was inexhaustible. The Royal land could be limiting but the Royal demands never were.
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Daisy sat herself near the washing basin which was brimming with utensils. Her bright red slave mark was visible against the sheer fabric of her dress as she strained her limbs to reach the utensils placed in the center of the large basin.
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She washed and washed as chaos eventually drifted into silence, broken only by the stream of clear tap water bathing the utensils to their finesse. The nights at the castle were never truly silent but if one learnt to focus on only what mattered, they could be peaceful.
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After washing the dishes, Daisy wiped her hands with her dress and settled in one corner of the kitchen with her jute bag— under the shelves and beside the furthest counter — and picked up its contents in her arms and jumped inside for shelter.
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It was her own form of refuge and the only place she wouldn't be bullied at.
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Nights were never long for her inner clock was set to awake with the first chirp of a bird. Laziness was not an option as she'd jump out of her bag leaving its contents inside and stretch her limbs in pursuit of a new day.
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The sun wasn't out but the night wasn't high — peeking through the kitchen windows, Daisy knew it was perfect time to make a move; when the human body is compelled into a deep sleep just before it is the time to rise.
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Daisy smiled as she picked up her bag for everything was easier to face with a smile on her face. After making a round to the barn, where she sneaked in from an unrepaired hole at the back — made by the mad rush of a bull in heat, two years prior and covered by a huge haystack — to steal an egg for breakfast.
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Thereafter, she'd beeline to the gardens under the cloak of the night. There were many-a-gardens in the royal premise because there were many-a-castles, inhabiting many-a-people with many-a-contrasting choices.
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The Queen enjoyed herself Lotuses, Hydrangeas and Water Lilies whilst the Queen Dowager relished her Roses, Tulips and Hyacinths. The Prince's castle were avid on Sunflowers whilst his cousin's castle had fanciful Orchids and Dahlias — to name a few distinctions.
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The bridge which lead to the Great Lake was lined with pink cherry blossoms, the branches of which Daisy had yet to witness go barren and her purpose with these well cherished gardens was to snip flowers. Just enough to remain inconspicuous and reap not-so-obvious profits.
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Each day she'd snip flowers from a new garden, twenty at most, from different areas so as to not raise suspicion of the Royal Gardeners. Somedays, if she had more time on her hands, she'd snip from at least three gardens to increase variety.
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The easiest catches were flowers from the Queen Dowager's isolated gardens and the most impractical were from the Queen's ponds. Daisy had only once stolen a Lotus from the Queen's pond and it had raised alarm throughout the castle for the Queen used to individually name her flowers and talk to them on a daily basis. Lotuses and Water Lilies were also hard to store in comparison to Roses or Sunflowers and although they fetched a higher price, Daisy never really regretted the loss of a source.
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After carefully snipping flowers from random bushes of the Queen Dowager's garden, Daisy paced towards the Founder's Grave where after she snuck into the forest and headed towards town.
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Daisy was merely eight in age and her shadow was a scrawny blur on the dark roads. If one were to be awake in those dead hours and look at her from behind — they'd imagine a jute basket was walking all by itself and go back to some seriously needed sleep.
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The basket, just like her red and yellowing checkered dress and shabby brown boots, was a gift from the Thomas family.
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Theirs was a small bricked home adjoining a bee farm that was owned by a thriving merchant of the area. The formerly rich Thomas family had sold their farm eight years ago when war required all able men to join the frontline or pay a hefty compensation to be left alone. The war had decreased the consumption of luxury products and honey happened to be one of them; Though, the Royal Medicinal Centre needed honey owing to its herbal properties and Mr. Thomas then considered it a great opportunity to sell his farm for a thousand gardenias.
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The money eventually dwindled as a consequence of prices skyrocketing after the war and the Thomas' were left to work on their own farm as mere tenants.
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Daisy stopped at their doorstep and knocked on the wooden door. The windows were aglow and the faint whistle from a kettle indicated that she wasn't too early. The door was flung open by a little boy with head like a mop of blonde and face grinning ear to ear. He flung himself at Daisy with as much spirit as she flung herself on him, their arms wrapped around eachother's torsos with swift familiarity and they jumped in little circles.
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"Bran! You're back home!" Daisy exclaimed as the boy pulled away and kicked the door close.
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"I was so close to running away but then they announced summer break," he informed with a sheepish grin, running a hand through his hair. "Ma! Bring us food! Your girl is here!" He called out as Daisy took off the jute bag and he picked it up to bring it inside.
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"I missed you! Look at all the flowers I have brought! You can have one!" Daisy chirped as Bran placed the bag on a wooden table. She fished inside its great depth to pick a fresh white rose and carefully handed it to him.
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"It's beautiful! I will treasure it, always!" He smiled, tilting his head just a bit to let her image sink into his mind's eye. It had been a while since he'd seen her, probably six months after he left for school, and she'd grown in the meantime. Not for the better, though, for how much could a castle maid bulk up in between doing her chores and stealing flowers to earn money for a family who abandoned her?
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Bran sighed as she got away from her bag and settled on the floor, hands behind her back, with a small smile and sunken eyes which somehow shone like the sweetest honey.
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"You've grown bigger," she complimented, raising a hand to his forehead, "So much!"
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His only motivation for attending the boring and gruelling boarding school was to be better, to do well enough to earn money for his family and bring her back home. To give her a better future.
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"I wish I could say the same about you."
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"Ah! My little girl!" Aldith exclaimed from the doorway as she wiped her wet hands all over her pale blue dress and entered the room."You're here, great! The food plate is in the kitchen! Where are the flowers from, today?"
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"Ah, thank you auntie. The flowers are from the Queen Dowager's castle," Daisy answered as she headed towards the kitchen to get a plate full of food from the slab. She placed the stolen egg in its place and headed out to see Mr. Thomas waving a bunch of sheets.
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"You're a little late today, my dear," he remarked with a little pat to her head. "Eat well, here's the paper. I need to be at the Flower's market in forty so keep that in mind," he frowned at the flower in his son's hand. His big frame towered over the rest of his family as he pointed out, "Keep it away Bran, roses have horrible thorns."
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"It's a gift," Bran rolled his eyes and led Daisy to the wooden table and chair. "Eat up, I'll help with the wrapping."
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"Ohh, make it look pretty!" Daisy cheered as Aldith laughed and said, "I'll make you the egg, get that frown off."
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Mr. Thomas grunted as his wife stepped out of the room.
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"I always make them look pretty," Bran snorted with a smug smile on his face as he sat beside Daisy, on the floor, and carefully placed the flowers on the table.
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"So that you can give them to pretty girls?" Daisy teased in between her bites.
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"We only have boys at our school," Bran shook his head as if it was the greatest offence known to mankind.
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"Tragic, really. What about pretty boys?" Daisy wiggled her eyebrows.
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"Bran!" Mr. Thomas said in a tone louder than one would anticipate when the world's asleep. "You should be resting. You will be helping with the farm in the morning, you remember?" He asked in a rhetorically harsh tone.
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"I know, I know, I'll do it. Don't worry," Bran shrugged as he folded the beeswax paper around the flower and tied it in a small bow.
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"You don—"
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"Here's the egg!" Aldith rushed inside with a steaming plate and placed it on the table. "Thank you, as always, my dearie," she looked at Daisy and smiled.
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"Ah! My best egg," Mr. Thomas all but moaned and took a seat beside his son, devouring the plate in front.
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Aldith shook her head at her husband's gluttony but sat down next to him to help fold paper around the flowers.
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Daisy couldn't help the smile that escaped onto her lips and made her shoulders scrunch up. It made her feel warm, feel belonged, as she sat on the singular wooden chair around the table with food on her lap and people who had so much to give. The Thomas' were the only family she knew and even though she did not look like them or was a real part of them, they did not make her feel unwelcomed.
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They treated her as their own and Daisy cherished every moment she spent with them. The hours of washing dishes which would make her arms sore and fingertips shrivel up, the lack of sleep to sneak around the barn and the gardens to steal so early in the morning, it was all worth the one meal she got to share with them. To sit on a chair, to enjoy the warmth of someone's home, to be looked in the eye and talked to, to be appreciated for her efforts.
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Daisy relished it.
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They kept her little world going.
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After she'd finished her meal and washed her plate, Daisy sat down beside Bran and helped fold the paper around the flowers, as prettily as possible, to make them worth a smile.
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"I fold the best bows," Bran remarked, eyeing his father's and mother's with a comparative eye.
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"You've learnt from the best," Aldith tsked.
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"And you, my honey, have learnt from the best," Mr. Thomas enunciated, pointing at himself.
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Daisy laughed along with everyone else as the minutes ticked away. Time sure was fleeting.
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"Come the day after, okay? I've heard the castle is increasing the number of guards around," Mr. Thomas patted Daisy's head as the family stood in the foyer to bid her goodbye for the day.
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"Yes sir!" Daisy mocked a salute, smiling.
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"Come early tomorrow, we didn't get to play today," Bran frowned with a big pout on his face.
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The back of his head received a good whack from his mother.
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"She works all day! She needs her rest! You can play with the bees if you so desperately want to!" Aldith shook her head, "Be safe on the way back, okay dearie? I kept an apple to eat for tomorrow," she informed Daisy.
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"Thank you auntie! Goodbye Bran!" Daisy chirped as she pulled the door and jumped down three bricked stairs that made up the Thomas' doorstep.
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The door was kicked shut behind her as she walked down the road with a careless smile on her face and a skip in her step — only for a hand to press against her mouth and the other to hit the side of her neck resulting in total darkness just when the sun was about to shine.
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