(⚠️) Earth Song | FE Fates

(/\) 6: Prisoners

Prisoners

Katonah didn't sleep at all that night — her howling stomach, empty after refusing to touch her food at supper, coupled with sleeping alone in a strange, thick, overly fluffy, too-warm bed, in the king of Nohr's castle, dozens of miles away from her home and family, kept her eyes open all night, watching the moonlight shift to whitish gray as the sun punctured the mountainous horizon. Camilla, of course, was oblivious to her insomnia: the vixen slept soundly on her bed, hair spilled out around her like a purple cloud. Katonah envied her snores.

Sheer exhaustion finally coaxed her eyes closed sometime past dawn, but just as she was beginning to doze, there was a hard knock on the door. Seconds later, it opened, admitting Camilla's four maids into the chamber. One immediately went to the fireplace and brought it up to a blaze. The others split between Camilla and Katonah and the wardrobe, setting out clothing and helping the women wake up. Camilla smiled at Katonah as a maid pulled her covers back. "Did you sleep well, General?"

Katonah didn't grace her subtle teasing with an answer.

The maids provided washbasins for the women, and the cold water, rubbed on her face with a soft cloth by another servant, helped chase away some of her exhaustion. The first half hour after that was spent deciding what Katonah was to wear for the day. The maids pulled an assortment of gowns and dresses from Camilla's closet, and each was treated to the vixen's critical eye. Most were dismissed, until one maid finally pulled something from the back of the wardrobe. It was a number similar to the pale green one that she'd worn to dinner the previous night, only this one had billowy sleeves and a high collar, and was accompanied by a thicker petticoat. The color, blue as the moorland sky, earned Camilla's approval, and during the second half hour, Katonah stood in the middle of the floor while the maids skillfully dressed her in the ensemble's varying layers of skirts, tying tight the ties and buttoning all the many, many fastens.

The dressing was so complex that Katonah doubted she would be able to remember which order the many layers went on, and in what order to take them off. Why did Nohrian dress have to be so complicated? And uncomfortable — wearing the corset felt akin to having a tight tube squeezing around her abdomen.

After donning the dress, the maids offered two more additions to her wardrobe: a pair of soft, leather boots, and green drop earrings that sparkled even in the weak morning light. The shoes felt strange on her feet — as she stepped out of the bedroom behind Camilla, soldiers falling into step beside her, she felt oddly insulated, cut off from what lay beneath her feet. And little wonder — the Earth Tribe rarely wore shoes, usually only during the cooler seasons. By the time they reached the dining room, Katonah was tugging at her collar, trying to alleviate some of the heat flushing her cheeks. The crackling fire didn't help.

"Good morning, General," Xander said. He was waiting for her at the head of the table, which was already set with a small amount of breakfast dishes. Camilla sat directly to his right. "Come sit, eat. You must be starving."

Yes, she was — even now, her stomach was snarling fiercely, the corset doing nothing to temper the pangs. Still, she hated the look of conceit in his eye — stubbornly, she said, "I'm fine."

"Suit yourself." She heard a the barest hint of amusement in his voice — looking up, she saw the edge of his mouth twitching and knew that he knew exactly what she was doing, enjoying her own twisted kind of rebellion. She turned red at the contempt in his smile.

"How are the prisoners?" she asked.

"The prisoners are fine. Don't worry about them." Xander dipped a piece of bread in his jug of wine — now that Katonah looked, she saw that this morning's meal was sparse compared to the bounty of last night's supper: just their regular trenchers, a smartly cut loaf of bread, and jugs of wine. Still, her stomach rumbled at the sight of Xander eating, and she looked away, stifling the urge to block her nose from the yeasty scent of freshly baked bread.