Foul invectives and curse were spewed on the kindly crone and her strapping grandson. And suffering through the needs of nature did little to improve her mood – a sailor would blush at the muffled insults that came from the prim and beautiful princess trapped in her chest.
Only when exhaustion eventually claimed the banshee did the young man dare stop the carriage and dismount. After reluctantly unlatching the chest’s lock he instinctively flinched and closed his eyes. Several heartbeats of nothing except for the steady sounds of sleep finally convinced him it was safe. Already skittish around the princess, he could well understand the abuse her servant folk must’ve have endured on a daily basis. That also made this easier. The young man accepted a second set of grafts his grandmother retrieved, incredibly glad chamberlain hadn’t used his little sister as the model.
‘Bec–Princess Arianna, had promised to apprentice him to the aging Master of Hunt after all of this was over. A fine life of tending to the animals and a steady supply of fresh food on the table for his future family. Before he disappeared to far into the daydream of his grandmother married to the Master of the Hunt and he and his blacksmith spouse caring for them and their five children in a little cottage, he placed the first set of molds over her cheekbones to raise them higher.
Any initial hesitation that the far darker skin of the grafts would make the deception immediately obvious disappeared when Arianna’s pale skin rippled and shifted into a rich ebony complexion that absorbed and shone underneath the moon's light. The chamberlain paranoid about any hint of recognition was clearly not satisfied with minor adjustments. Again, the young man sympathized for their plight.
Men and women of the Southern Isles were a rare sight outside of the trade caravans far in the northern inland of his home, but the exotic entertainment and goods were always welcome. Their last run he bought a pair of jaguar fangs, one kept around his neck and the other always close at hand. The merchant insisted that the paired necklaces brought luck in marriage. The young man did not know anything about arcane matters, but he found the gesture and story sweet. Could always hope.
Then a surprised yelp escaped his lips as his fingers received a shock of static electricity while fitting the sharper jawline into place. The Court Magician’s spells to immortalize Arianna’s beauty, spun under duress of gelding, did not play nice with the invasive magic of the facial grafts. Nothing a sturdy pair of leather gloves couldn’t sort, even if it made the process slower. The commoner proceeded with care despite his lessened dexterity. Professional pride and an instinctual sense of a future being flayed alive by the Princess should she wake drove him.
“Leftovers from the stew I’ve prepared, for the harlot. I hope you didn’t listen, can’t have my sweet boy pick up habits of such nasty language.” Looking up from his work, he moved aside to let his grandmother place a slice of salted meat, vegetables, and bread inside the chest. “Now, let me see the wretched girlie. Mmhm, you know I used to the prettiest woman in the village in my day but even trapped in a chest on a bumpy road I did not look half as good as she.” Her cackle was low. “Beauty can be curse if that’s all you have. Finish up and after we eat we’ll pitch tent. Far away, but in sight.”
With the evening plan set and his grandmother shuffling away to the pot, the young commoner returned to his task. Arianna increasingly reminded him of the stylized depictions of the female warrior nobility in the art as her thinner nose and razor-sharp eyebrows fitted into place. Absolutely gorgeous.
And as entrancing like any sleeping predator, he reminded himself and dearly hoped that Arianna’s ‘twin’ would never see her visage so distorted with spite as the haughty Princess was capable of. If the Chamberlain had any sense he’d have taken molds from multiple women to avoid any potential for a mistaken identity. He did seem the keen minded sort, nothing like himself so if he had thought of then he must be worrying about nothing.