"How's your sister doing?"
"She's all right. Little Arabelle's been keeping her up all night though."
The two guards chuckled quietly, but both soon fell silent. There was hardly a sound in the simple white hallway. With only one way in or out, it was quite the ideal prison for the thirteenth Prince of the Southern Isles. Not even windows had been installed in this deep underground wing of the castle's dungeon, with the only light being cast by four small torches.
The guards had been stationed outside the door that led into the prisoner's cell for nearly an hour now, and something ominous seemed to hang heavy in the air. One of the men tugged his white gloves a bit higher, casting a glance at his companion. The flickering torchlight set half of his fellow guardsman's face in shadow, emphasizing the rough angles and edges of the other side. "Kind of lonely down here, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Silence settled over the pair once more. The guard scratched the back of his neck, then ran a hand through his thick black hair. His companion turned to face the prisoner's door suddenly.
"What are you doing?" the black-haired guard asked incredulously. The other man didn't answer. He pulled three keys from his coat pocket, quickly unlocking all seven locks on the massive metal door. His raven-haired partner stiffened, reaching for his sword. "Stop this at once! Have you gone mad?" The other guard threw his weight into the door, gritting his teeth, tuning out the voice of the man beside him. There was a creak, then the door swung open to reveal a dark cell.
A figure rose from its position on the bed. The details of the person's face became more visible with each step. The black-haired guard began to tremble a bit, jabbing his sword towards the approaching man. The other man patted him roughly on the back. "Don't worry, he doesn't have any weapons. Yet." The black-haired guard opened his mouth, prepared to yell for help, but a heavy fist collided with his temple before he could make a sound. He collapsed onto the ground, his sword clattering loudly beside him. It was then that the prisoner stepped out of the shadows, although a hint of their dark grasp seemed to still be held in his green eyes. "Three years of waiting have finally paid off," the Prince stated, his voice hoarse from disuse. He held out his hands, and the guard unlocked the manacles that held his wrists in place. Together, the two men dragged the black-haired guard into the cell. Once he was in, the other guard locked up the door.
"You're a mess," he said, sounding almost disgusted as he eyed his superior. The escapee only laughed. "Hey, I haven't shaved in three years. Cut me some slack." He picked up the sword off the ground, then smirked over at the guard. "I guess I owe you for helping me." The other man only grunted. "I serve the royal family. The entire royal family, that is. Anyway, we should get going, Prince Hans." Hans nodded, rolling his shoulders. "I'm going to need a boat and a map to Arendelle."