The Crowned Captive
The Princess's Maid

Having a lady’s maid was an odd thing. Morana felt like an invalid as she was guided to a chair and sat down. Lorenna was a quiet and plain thing with fingers far deft than Morana’s. She worked silently, brushing and pinning and braiding the silver strands until Morana felt like her hair was no less than a work of art. Had Morana had a little more confidence, she may have asked the girl her origins, her age or how her life had been, but she could force no sound out of her mouth whilst she felt so alien in the seat.

She could not even speak when she was shown the dress her so-called father had chosen. Morana had never, in her entire existence, even imagined being shoved into such finery. Lorenna quietly complimented her as she tied her into the cage of a dress. The corset was fastened so tight it made it feel impossible to breathe, pushing her breasts up so they nearly sat at her chin. Her waist looked impossibly thin, then exploded in a sea of red fabric that she practically had to swim through to move. She supposed she should be grateful no cage held the skirts out, likely due to her having to sit for so long today, but it still made moving difficult.

The makeup was another thing. When Lynette had pulled out a bag of powders and creams and paints with the idea to change her face, Morana had blanched. She had found her voice then. After Morana has argued for none and Lorenna looked like she might cry if she could not do what she had been told, they found an uncomfortable middle ground.Her face was powdered so clear she looked as if she was lifeless, and then the colour was brought back with carefully placed rouge. Her eyes were dusted with a beautiful pink and red powder and her lips were painted to look forever wet. The thick kohl was brought forward, but Morana could allow no more. When she looked in the mirror she simply no longer saw herself staring back.

“I promise you look stunning, your Highness,” Lorenna assured her, her eyes averted. “All the lords of the caught will not be able to keep your name from their lips, and all the ladies will be forever jealous of you.”

“I never wanted jealousy and obsession, Lorenna. I wanted freedom.”

The maid snapped her face up, looking at Morana for a long minute. Morana looked straight back. An understanding of sorts seemed to flicker between them, and Lorenna smiled.

“Let’s make you look good enough your captor’s eyes won’t be able to leave you,” Lorenna whispered as if she was telling a childhood friend a secret. Morana laughed then, wondering if she may just have one true ally in her pretty prison.

Their conversation remained short, but an easiness passed between them. Lorenna merely laughed at Morana’s distaste for her shoes. After being forced into the infernal heels once more, Lorenna helped her shuffle over to the mirror. Her face was one of a stunned fish as she stared at the reflection. She looked like royalty, as if she had been all along. She cocked and turned her head as if the glamour would fall from her face, but it did not. With her delicate pointed ears on full display, she truly looked like the elven heir she had been told she was.

“I have a tiara I was instructed to use, too. It has a matching pendant and earrings. If you want, I can pierce them now. It is all the rage in the court and I know how to,” Lorenna said. Morana was vaguely aware of nodding through her awed stupor. It seemed to please the lady’s maid, who giggled with glee as she turned away. She scuttled off to the bags she had brought, returning and placing the tiara securely between the intricate braids. Some of the joy fell as Morana refused the gold and garnet necklace, refusing to remove her mother’s pendant. It seemed to return though as the earrings were produced. Morana sat grim-faced through the sharp sting that piercing her ears involved, wondering why the women of the court would subject themselves to something so trivial.

“Trying to impress someone again, Morana?” Someone called from the door, having arrived without her knowing, and she turned to see Rowan watching her.

Morana glared, somewhat embarrassed by her attire, as Lorenna sketched a hasty bow and left. Rowan ignored the presence of the woman entirely, instead seeming to devour Morana with his eyes. He walked closer slowly, as if to not startle his cornered prey, and brushed his hands softly over her ears. Morana’s eyes fluttered shut as the residual burn of the piercings faded under his touch.

“You know, I would love to ruin that makeup later on today,” Rowan whispered into her ear as she teetered on the extravagant shoes. She sucked in her breath between her teeth, suddenly happy for the camouflage the rouge on her cheeks gave her against her blushing. He continued to smirk down at her as she wobbled to the door, and just like that all her worry over her appearance was replaced with the urge to deck him.

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