A Royal Hall's Night

The Dutchess came whirling around the kitchen table with a plate in hand. She slid her slender frame gracefully between the two already seated members of the fort, setting the glass plate down on some pillowed furniture in front of her. She brushed some fallen crumbs rapidly off of the prized victorian cushions, which were fashioned into a makeshift flooring for the palace. 

“The tea will just be a moment darlings, then we’re all set.” She reported, while simultaneously tussling the coffee brown curls of the young princess by her side. The guest was one who’s attendance would bring honor to the banquet hall. Princess Sasha, being quite reserved in nature, usually strayed from such affectionate hair pettings, but was at that moment too occupied to notice. She had fallen into a deep trance over the contents of the plate set before her. With a burning impatience, she greedily eyed the fresh delicacies on the platter. It was her favorite treat, piping hot Khrustyky. 

Though the Duchess would often take the young royalty with her to pick up such treat’s from a baker in the village, dessert was now all made within the castle walls. The princess used to play with a cat that guarded the baker’s glossy countertops, racing after it around the black and white tiled kitchen while the old man diligently carried out the pastry order of the Duchess. Then one day, the old man, the kitten, and the shop weren’t there. They had been replaced by a length of rope and piles of rubble. Sasha however didn’t mind this change of routine much, as it meant she got a chance to judge the Duchess’s cooking first hand. 

The glazed crust of the fried cookies were set in a golden hue, with dots of powdered sugar covering the flakey pastries like miniature snow capped mountains. The heat from the impressive pile radiated to her cold face like hot coals, and the smell alone was enough to evoke the current mouthwatering state that had arrested her attention. Put simply, she HAD to reach for one. Being instantly thwarted by a quicker grip during her failed attempt, the youthful nobility began nonchalantly humming a pretty tune, a measure that she thought helped to amplify the effect of harmlessness, while she lovingly leaned her head against the arm that the watchful hand belonged to. 

The royal guardsman turned his attention from the window just in time to witness the wicked attempt of thievery, and he laughed a haughty laugh, for he was a fan of anything mischievous within the castle walls. The stern dutchess, however, remained unfazed by the familiar ploy of innocence, and looked down at the princess with a sharply raised eyebrow. She repeated her orders, this time with a delicate firmness. 

“As I said, the tea will just be a mo-” She was interrupted when the lights of the banquet hall shut off with a heavy clack. Now finding they were caught in a cloistered darkness, the duchess gasped and instinctively put her hands around Princess Sasha, bracing her head softly like a helmet. 

In the silence that followed, the members of the royal gathering heard a far-off cluster of thumping impacts, which increased to a higher frequency before dropping off entirely into the night. Various rattles and noises from the surrounding quarters accompanied the wash of booming. It is to be said however, that though they all heard the same noises in that brief moment, each individual understood very different sounds. Princess Sasha with imaginative ears, perceived the sound of a “grand finale” at the distant firework show, accompanied shortly by a throng of barking dogs, a man yelling for an encore, and a clicking from a toy, just what kind of toy it was however, she was less certain of . The pale duchess, with perceptive but mistrusting ears, thought she heard the sounds of bombs growing ever nearer, followed by the barking of fearful dogs trying to cut free and run, followed finally by some unknown clattering coming from somewhere nearby; Probably some sort of terrible weapon arming itself, or the clambering of heavily geared occupiers moving up a staircase, hellbent on the destruction of any life found in the area. The ever loyal guardsman, in great contrast to the two former pairs of ears, listened with the careful assessment of a military conditioned man, making his verdict instinctively. First, he heard the unmistakable sound of artillery massing fires onto the neighboring city, a likely cause for the loss of power. He took no notice of the barking dogs as it was no change to the normal reaction the poor creatures display under any sort of disturbance, but instead made out the words of a man below the high walls who had been yelling at others to “get to cover!”. Lastly, he recognized the clicking of the power attempting to regain itself.

When the brief moment of uncertainty had ended, the noble guardsman made an effort to calm his lady the Duchess’s nerves, as she was now palpably anxious. 

“Katrya, it’s alright. Just the town over, power’s out but repairs will be started in the morning.” He offered his comforting explanation, to no avail. She darted her eyes at him, which now seemed alive and burning with action, and rolled her words out apprehensively. 

“But the clicking! There’s something near the building, we need to lock the door and-”

“It’s just the backup power, we’re alright,” he reassured in a confident tone, consoling her further. “We’re going to be alright.” he repeated quieter to himself.

 The Duchess relaxed her posture slightly, and slouched back down into the blanket walls. Papa smiled at Sasha who had once again been examining his stoic expression. 

“Hmm, no power? Well, ice tea it is. I’ll go fetch the cups for the other guests, your excellency.” he lightheartedly quipped. Sasha too returned to her tactful manners, and nodded in a refined manner. 

The tea-bound servant made his way clumsily out of the tiny banquet, but before he disappeared behind the blanket entryway, he reached back skillfully and swiped a pastry from the plate to Sasha’s delight. 

“Oops!” he blurted out, quickly army crawling out of mama’s vengeful reach. Mama’s wide-eyed surprise over the temerity of the brazen robbery curled into a cheeky smile. 

“Get out of here you crafty bear!” she laughed, kicking him in the butt while he made his clownish escape, cookie still in mouth. Mama sighed with concern still looming behind her present smile, and handed Sasha one of the treats from the plate. The girl took it with an eager but polite grasp from the benign hand. Munching down on it blissfully, she tightened her snuggle with mama, who stretched a green blanket over themselves. 

Together under the pillow-walled table, the two sat in an unbroken reverence of perfect silence, awaiting the tea servant while watching the splendid glow of lights coming through the apartment window, which danced strange shadowy figures drunkenly against the backdrop of the yellowed kitchen wallpaper. A veritable puppet show, performed exclusively for the newly christened palace.