2 Scarce Solitude, Surprisingly Solitary

"Princess?"

...

"Princess..."

....

"PRINCESS!"

Tempest yelped, her eyes now wide open and darting around her bedroom. Her assistant Blanche had positioned herself at her bedside, her slender fingers curled around the handles of the silver tea tray she held. Her long white hair and simple maid outfit made her look like a ghost, a ghost that always hung around Tempest's room for as long as she could remember.

-Had it been a dream?- she thought anxiously. Suddenly her heart skipped a few beats. -Burns!-

Phantom sensations prickled and seared at her skin as her body remembered the feeling of flesh falling off of her legs and arms in clumps and sheets, and she threw the covers astray.

All she saw was her own limbs, pale and smooth as usual.

"Princess, I'll set the tea on your nightstand. Please remember the Magica Festival is tomorrow night," Blanche cooed cautiously, creeping away to the door as she presumably sensed Tempest's worry. The door clicked shut, and Tempest was alone again. Alone, a rare thing to be if you were the heir of Brezia's throne.

Tempest tried to remember the dream she had, but the more she thought the more the vision faded from her memory.

"Great. Violet won't be able to tell me what it meant..." she muttered to herself as she heaved herself out of bed and began to steep her tea. Cranberry peppermint, a type Tempest had designed herself upon her younger sister's request. Owning a humble tea leaf business like the one Violet Escott was dreaming of was near impossible if you were royalty and she had always reminded Violet of that, but she hadn't ever listened.

The stillness of the room was all too eerie to Tempest. Everything was in proper order as per usual, the gaping window at the right, the bed in the center with the sheets now ruffled and unkempt, the walls dressed in a watered-down blue, the walk-in closet, and the morning tea, but Tempest couldn't help but feel as if she had witnessed something important the night before. Dreams were peculiar and fascinating to many in that sometimes they could predict the future and create spectacular ripples in space-time, something that neither magic nor tech could accomplish. Tempest had encountered countless testimonies of people whose lives had been saved simply because of a dream they once had. Could that happen to her?

The tea was perfectly warm, sending currents of energy through her. Apparently tea also had caffeine, not as much as coffee but at least enough for Tempest to get moving for the day without trying to wash a bitter tang from her mouth. She smoothed down her talc-hued nightshirt and snapped her fingers, now drowning in the magic fueled light of her closet, which was easily her most confusing element of her room. Hidden doors full of everything from gowns to lingerie were safely tucked away in their fully displayed siblings, and an island in the center featured a case of jewelry that could only be accessed with a voice password.

Slipping on a silk robe, she bid farewell to her room and treaded to the breakfast parlor to meet her sister and Blanche, forgetting about the tea tray.

* * *

"Hey T," Violet chirped, too focused on her cup of strawberries to give her older sister eye contact. Tempest scoffed, a grin creeping over her face as she took a seat.

"Another reason why I'm the heir and you aren't--I'm not so solitary as to avoid eye contact with my superiors," Tempest retorted, crossing her legs underneath the table. Violet was a few years younger than her, with a loner disposition and a knack for the culinary arts. Her black-red hair was in a jumbled updo at the back of her head as she picked at the leaves at a particularly small, yet very red strawberry.

"Dude, quit using big words. I know we're going to school for this and that's awesome, but it's like 8 and I'm tired as--" She stopped, remembering the presence of both of their advisors in the room, and chose not to swear. Popping the strawberry in her mouth, she spoke again.

"Whatever. What even is Magica Day..." she grumbled in between hasty chewing. Tempest scooped up a bit of egg yolk on a piece of toast and hummed with thought.

"You'll need to consult Dr. Google for that one."