Queensmen

Chapter 48

~Breathtaking~

"I once dreamt to be born a queen
had to live life a living puppet."

"I once lived life a common subject
had no time to laugh and preen."

"Oh, joy to be free
free in Death's clutches."

"Oh, glad to be me
warm in Fate's arms."

"Hm," Oris' cellmate commented wordlessly with a rattle of familiar chains as the melodious verses filled the cell.

"What?" Sensing some displeasure, Oris stopped singing and directed her gaze to the dim corner. "You don't like the song?"

"You wrote it yourself, I reckon?"

Oris flushed at the accusation and put her hands on her hips, glad for the cover of the darkness. It hid the mirth in her smile and the warmth in her cheeks. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Only you would be daring enough to dream of being a queen," her cellmate snorted, not even close to being amused. "You are such a daft girl."

"Yes, I am daft. That is why we share this cell together," Oris shook her hair loose, letting it fall down her shoulders in messy waves.

She reached down to pick the strip of cloth she had used to tie it back, having undone the braids Mayree had locked her fiery strands into on her second day of captivity just to have something to do.

Now she made a habit of making a braid each time the guards brought in fresh gruel and emptied the chamber pot.

She had four braids on now, two on either side of her head for the sake of aesthetics. She used them to tie the rest of her hair back when she wanted more variety than what strips of her dress could manage.

The first time she had put her hair in an elaborate do, her cellmate had asked who she had been dressing up for but Oris didn't need to dress up for anybody but herself.

She could not lose herself to the monotonous ways of dungeon life. She couldn't lose hope.

She had a bright future waiting for her and waiting around sulking was not going to propel her towards it.

When the guards brought water, she partitioned it and used a portion to soak the piece of cloth she used to clean herself, so while she had not been allowed to bathe since her arrival she didn't reek like the rest of her dungeon mates.

Her hair was a different matter however. Keeping filth out of it was turning out to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated.

When tying the oily mass of curls up in a bun and sleeping in a meditative position had not done the trick, more of her gown had needed to be sacrificed to be used as a sort of cap for her hair.

At that point, Oris had to admit that prison life was turning her into quite the creative person. Even her cellmate could not deny that fact and had showed some support by doing what Oris assumed had been clapping.

At day three of being a prisoner, Oris had prioritized comfort over modesty and stripped down to her underclothes, making strategic cuts that left her with a top half, a bottom half and a whole lot of fabric—a long strip of which made a very nice belt for her new underwear.

She had done all her cloth ripping with a future use for them in mind. She had not forgotten that the royal family had not provided her with clothes when she and her maids had started the selection.

This dress was one of the plain, almost-white maid uniforms that she had managed to acquire. Its pieces could be dyed and sewn into the gown she had been working on before being arrested.