A/N Edited 12/01/10

Verbena walked with her hand grasping her mother's tightly. The castle loomed large ahead of her and she looked up at it with fear in her brown eyes. It had never looked scary before; it had been an interesting place she would include in her make-believe games and daydreams. Now that she actually found herself going to live there, it seemed much more sinister. She shivered and huddled closer to her mother's skirts as they walked into the shadow of the building.

Her mother gripped her hand tighter. Verbena looked up into the familiar face, but her mother didn't look down at her. She felt like she might cry, but didn't want her father and mother to get upset. She had heard her mother crying about it last night. She had to be strong and make sure they didn't feel sad. She swallowed as they entered the gates. Looking back, she saw her village for what seemed to her like the last time.

Her mother had promised that she'd be able to visit whenever she wanted, but it didn't feel that way; to the eight year old girl it felt as if she was leaving home forever. She blinked her eyes hard, trying not to cry.

They were left in the garden to wait while a servant ran to grab the head cook from the kitchen. Verbena's father walked away to look at the vegetables while her mother knelt down beside her in the dirt.

"Now, Verbena Salter, you look at me, and you listen. This will be a good job for you and you will have a good life because of this, I promise. It seems scary now, I know. But you will find a way to love this place, my little cook. You could learn to love anything." Mrs. Salter stopped talking, hugging the eight year old to her chest. Verbena held on tight, breathing in her mother's smell. After a second her mother pushed her away enough that she could see her face again. "You be good, understand? I love you, sweet."

Verbena's father put a hand on his wife's shoulder and a heavy hand on his daughter's head, tempting out a small smile. "Work hard. Make us proud."

"All right," she whispered.

A thin stick-figure of a woman came from the corner of the little courtyard beside the garden, emerging from a doorway hidden in the shadow of the wall. She walked over to the family, blinking in the sunlight and looked Verbena over. She wiped white hands off on her apron, which only served to throw flour into the air instead of cleaning her hands. "I am Freida, Head Cook. This the girl for us?"

Verbena hid behind her mother's skirt. It did no good at all.

"Hold this."

"Where are the potatoes?"

"You put that there and there will be trouble!"

"I had them sitting on the table!"

"Why are these not boiling?"

"I cannot do three things at once."

"Just help me here for a second."

"The fire has gone down!"

"Who ate the biscuits?"

Verbena was shown down into the dim crowded mess that was the kitchen. She stopped halfway down the stairs. The noise –voices yelling, pots and pans crashing, fire crackling, water splashing –echoing in the underground room was nothing compared to the heat of the place. Smoke billowed along the ceiling: only a small portion of it escaping from the chimney on top of the fireplace. Women dodged around each other, fulfilling their duties as quickly as possible and adding to the chaos and heat. Verbena stopped on the stairs to feel a firm hand on her back, urging her down the stairs. She didn't turn her head to look out at the garden. She knew that if she saw that world, the world of sunlight and her family, that she would start to cry. Instead, she squared her shoulders and descended into the kitchen.

It was to be her very first day as a kitchen-hand at Kippernia Castle.

She already hated it.

"Go and help Therese, girl," Frieda ordered, brushing past the girl and immersing herself in the mass of movement that made up the kitchen. Verbena stood still, staring at all the activity. Someone rushing by slopped water on her as they took it upstairs to dump. Getting hit from the other direction by a woman holding a basket of what looked like leaves, Verbena backed up, trying to get out of the way. Not looking where she was going, she stepped on the foot of a girl a few years older than she was, knocking her off balance. The girl fell, dropping the eggs she was carrying. "Blast," the girl yelled at Verbena. "What are you doing?"

Verbena turned and ran from the kitchen. She could not do this. She just wanted to go home.

Drake Gardener Junior didn't want to go and meet the castle folk. He wanted to stay in the garden with Grandfather, playing with the plants like they always did together. The nine year old wandered the garden patch, his lips pouted rebelliously. He wouldn't do anything to disobey his grandfather, so even though the prospect of a bath and clean clothes and a day listening to people talk about boring things made him want to run away, Rake stayed obediently in the garden. Sulking. He wasn't even allowed to take care of the plants today, in case he got dirt on his clothes. Since when had dirt been bad?

He heard a little sniff as he walked past the carrot patch. He froze. Carrots didn't sniff. Did they? He had never heard it before, but Grandfather was always telling him that plants were alive. Rake scratched his nose and kicked the dirt while he thought it through. He wasn't scared of carrots, but a living carrot…. That might be a different matter altogether. Finally, he edged closer, looking over the vegetation for the living carrot.

What he saw surprised him. There were plenty of carrots. This was the carrot patch, so he had expected that. However, the little black haired girl with tears on her face was not a carrot and that's what made him jump back with a yell, falling flat on his bum in the dirt.

The little carrot-girl started to wail.

"No, no. Please," Rake begged, he hated when people cried. He crawled forward towards the girl, but that just made her wails become louder. "Um…" He looked around frantically, trying to find something to distract the girl, and his eyes fell on a lumpy, misshapen carrot that his grandfather had left to be collected for compost. "Look at this! This carrot looks just like Freida!" He waved the carrot towards the girl, shutting his eyes in anticipation of another cry. After a moment of silence, he squinted his eyes open to look at the stranger in the vegetable patch.

A little smile crept across her face as she stared at the carrot. A dirt-streaked hand jumped to her mouth to cover it.

Emboldened by the grin, Rake looked around his grandfather's garden. Spotting a promising looking strawberry, he leapt up and raced over to it. He picked up the fruit and turned with it held to eye level. Brown eyes looking back at him startled him and he dropped the berry in the dirt. The girl giggled as she picked the strawberry up. She examined it, perplexed.

"It's my grandfather," Rake explained, leaning close and pointing at the bumps formed on the side of the berry, "See, this is the nose, and the big chin…"

The girl looked around at all the vegetables, entranced. Still holding the strawberry, she suddenly grabbed onto Rake's hand and dragged him behind her towards the pepper patch. "Look, look," she whispered, dragging him down so they were both lying on the ground, to better look at a green one close to the ground. "It looks like the skinny knight."

"Verbena!" Frieda's voice carried from the little courtyard into the garden.

"Rake?" A deep voice from the other direction, in the royal gardens.

Entering the garden from the kitchen courtyard, Freida hurried over to the girl, picking her up off the dirt and scolding as she brushed her off, "Where have you been? Time to clean up after supper, and dinner is soon. Do you think you were hired to play in the dirt?"

"Rake, I told you to stay clean for this meeting. Have you made a friend?" The deep voice belonged to an old man that did resemble the strawberry Verbena still held. She hid it in her hand and tried not to smile.

"Sorry, Grandfather," Rake said shame-faced.

"Come along, girl," Frieda said, ushering Verbena towards the kitchens. "Good afternoon, Drake. Sorry about this."

"No problem at all, Frieda. Take care," Rake's grandfather replied absently as he examined Rake's dirty knees and hands. "What am I to do with you, boy?"

"Garden?" Rake replied solemnly.

His grandfather's quiet chuckles filled the yard.

"Come along, girl. Playing in the peppers as if you have nothing else to do," Frieda took her charge back down into the dark kitchen. The heat of cooking lunch had not yet dissipated and already the fires were being stoked to start off supper. "It's a vegetable pastry for supper."

"Again," One of the cooks that were rolling the pastry muttered. Frieda shot the lot of them a harsh glance.

"There will be a temper tantrum in the hall tonight," another lady added as she added wood to the fire.

"Well, whose fault is that?" one of the ladies asked defensively.

"Whoever told the King that vegetables would make the Royal heir grow strong," someone else shot back.

"Well, after the Prince's sickness can you blame His Royal majesty for trying anything?" an older lady asked, dunking another pan into the soapy water as she spoke.

"Little Cuthbert hates vegetables," one of the apprentices, a teenage girl, whispered to another helper her age.

"That is enough, all of you," Frieda called, her voice instantly silencing the kitchen. "Get to work! Rachel, Jean, get outside and collect the vegetables. We cannot trust pepper-girl here not to get lost if we send her out." The teenagers giggled and rushed up the steps into the sunlight. "You," Frieda directed at the blushing Verbena, "will sit there on this stool. You grab the chopped vegetables that the cooks place here. You hold one of these pastry shells- gently, mind- and you put the vegetables like this." Frieda deftly filled the pastry shell with the chopped vegetables. "Then you put them onto this board and the other girls will carry them to the oven. Got that?" Verbena nodded, eyes wide. "Do not fall behind."

Verbena dragged herself up onto the stool. She took a deep breath and let it out harshly. Time to get started. She took hold of her first pastry shell, squeaking as it flopped over. Looking around to make sure no one had seen, she squished it back into shape. There… That looked all right. Taking a hold of some vegetables, she filled the pastry and lifted it –gently- onto the board. There. And again.

She finished the first pot as the two girls came back down the steps. Listening to Frieda yell at them for dawdling, Verbena tapped her fingers on the table. Another batch of pastry shell got placed beside her, but the girls were just washing the vegetables, splashing each other from the bucket. Verbena sighed. She looked down beside her, and sitting on the stool she saw the strawberry. The little brown eyes flicked from the strawberry to the pastry shells and back. Red juice dribbled on her fingers as she broke the strawberry into pieces and filled a shell. Patting it into shape, Verbena smiled. A strawberry tart!

"Get those vegetables over there! The new girl is done before you! If you do not quit your antics and get some work done-" Verbena jumped as Freida chased the girls over to her table. They dumped their pot of chopped vegetables and ran back upstairs to get more. "If you are not back down here in less than five minutes you will go without any supper yourselves!" The cook yelled after them as the rest of the kitchen hid giggles. Verbena, wide-eyed, started putting together more pastries. She didn't notice when the strawberry tart was snatched off the table and placed on the board with the rest of the vegetables tarts ready for dinner.

Rake hunched lower in his chair. He was sitting beside his grandfather at a large wooden table in the dining hall. They usually ate standing in the garden, or sitting on one of the terraces and Rake was uncomfortable trapped in his chair in stiff clothes. He winced as the little prince screamed up at the royal table, even though he was seated across the room- being a lowly servant, not one of the Royal Court. It still pierced his ears. The four year old had not been pleased to see vegetables on the table again and no amount of pleading by the Lady-in-Waiting or the Jester could get him to quiet down. Upset by her brother's cries, little Lavinia, two and still little enough to be held by her mother in public, had started to wail along with him. Rake thought it was awfully like the piglets in the village and sat wishing they were in the garden. Plants did not make such a ruckus.

Suddenly Princess Lavinia quit screaming, staring intently at the bit of pastry she had just pulled out of her mouth. Gurgling happily, she stuffed the rest of the pastry into her mouth and reached for the half that her mother still held.

"There!" The King called out happily. "Look, my Princess likes them! Bring us more pastries!"

Cuthbert, noticing the shift in attention, stopped crying long enough to assess the situation. If his sister was going to get attention for eating the pastry…. He grabbed the vegetable pastry off his plate and crunched on it quietly, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

In the sudden hush the court could be heard sighing in relief as conversations began tentatively. With a nod of her head, Queen Gwendoline summoned the kitchen head over to the table. Standing behind the Queen, Frieda dipped her head to hear the beautiful woman's murmured comment, "Strawberries?" Gwendoline held up the piece of tart she still held. Lavinia tried to grab hold of it and she fed her a small piece.

"I am so sorry, Your Majesty," Frieda whispered. "We have a new cookhand and she must have-"

"A new cookhand?" Gwendoline asked, looking over at her son who was eating the pastries distractedly while giggling along with one of Jester's new dances. "Have I seen her, Frieda?"

"No, my lady. She is just a little thing; arrived today."

"Thank you. And thank her," the Queen added as Frieda turned to hurry off, intent on lecturing the newest arrival. "I have not had a dinner this peaceful since my daughter was born."

Frieda bowed and made her way out of the dining hall. Hurrying back to the kitchen which was still a mass of activity she watched the little girl who still sat on her stool, diligently filling the little pastry cups. "Move, girl," she ordered. Verbena rushed to get out of the way. "Get," Frieda ordered, noticing that the girl was still staring up at her.

"There is still work to do," Verbena whispered.

Frieda laughed, attracting the glances of a few of the other women. "I have someone eager to work? Good. Better than the other chits I have here. Go on up and ask Drake for some strawberries. The little Princess seemed to like the one you slipped in there today. You will serve her some tomorrow at dinner." Verbena didn't move, stuck between embarrassment at having the tart caught and fear of this new duty. Frieda tossed a piece of pepper at her. "Get, Pepper-girl!"

Verbena got.

His belly full, Rake was thinking of allowing himself a nap when he saw the black-haired girl that had been hiding in his grandfather's carrots. Approaching shyly, Rake waited a few feet away until she noticed him. A little smile lit up her face and Rake returned it, happy that she was happy to see him.

"Would you like to see Grandfather's garden?" Rake asked, looking at his sandaled feet.

"I have to ask Drake for strawberries for Frieda," the girl answered. "But I do not know who Drake is."

"My Grandfather," Rake answered. "He is up in the Royal gardens, though. Do you want me to take you?"

"Please."

Rake smiled and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the vegetables. They jumped up the stone steps together, running into the topiary garden that Rake's grandfather maintained for the Royal family.

Verbena gasped, looking around wide-eyed. Rake smiled proudly, sticking out his chest. "My Grandfather designed it for the King," he said. "Someday this will be my job."

"Someday it will," his grandfather said, looking over the two children from where he stood, sheers held in one hand, "but not much will get done if you spend all your time with the kitchen girls,"

"Frieda sent her for strawberries," Rake told his grandfather.

"And what Frieda wants, Frieda gets," the old man said, gathering his tools and stepping onto the stone path. "Come along, I have them stored in the vegetable garden. I will have to send someone out to pick some tomorrow"

"Not me!" Rake exclaimed. The old man laughed at the look of horror on his grandson's face. The boy would never think of accepting a job that took him out of his garden and that far from the castle.

He led the children back into the garden and got a basket of strawberries, picking out the ones that had already gone bad or were bruised until he had filled a basket. "Now, little one, what is your name?"

"Verbena," she answered just as Frieda yelled up from the kitchen: "Pepper-girl! Are you lost again? We need those strawberries today, not next week!"

"Pepper-girl?" Rake's grandfather asked, chuckling. "Well, now, that is a good name." He handed Verbena the basket and watched as she flashed a grin at Rake before hurrying back to the kitchen, the basket held tightly in two hands.

"Now, Rake," the old man said, watching the girl disappear into the shadowy staircase, "what do you think about mushrooms?"

Verbana fell asleep at the table, her hand in a bucket of soapy water, flour on her face. The kitchen was quiet, only a few women still worked, scrubbing the tables and caring for the coals in the big fireplace. They would be up in a few hours, to put the dough in the oven for the morning's bread.

The kitchen never really sleeps, Frieda thought, pushing her hands through her hair as she regarded Verbena, but little girls have to, especially little girls who have impressed a Queen.

Lifting the little girl, Frieda moved her out of the way of the cleaners, tucking her up onto the windowsill. She didn't realize that that temporary space would become Pepper-girl's permanent bed as she spent more and more time in the kitchens. Frieda didn't know that when everyone in the kitchen was getting let go the Queen would remember a strawberry pastry and quietly recommend a kitchen-hand to stay on and help the aging Frieda. All Frieda knew was that there was still work to be done…. The kitchen never sleeps.