A/N: Well, here you are...upon certain *cough* JaQ!*cough* people's
request, I made sure this chapter was longer. So, hopefully someone reads
it...because reviews make my day :DDD Enjoy!
----------------
The man raised his torch to light my face, and almost immediately I saw who he was- a local guard. I had to talk if I wanted to get off easy; people who gave them trouble were known to appear next in the dungeons. I should know, I've heard them.
"My name is Lisa-" I broke off. Was I trying to get caught? Why didn't I just say, 'Hello there, my name is Lisanne...you know, the Princess? So, do you want to bring me back now or later?'
I shook myself mentally, opening my mouth to give a proper answer, but the guard cut me off.
"Lisa, eh? What business do you have with the royal family?"
'I am the royal family!' would have been the proper answer here. But considering I was going incognito, I had to rely on my clever mind to see me through this one.
"Well sir, I...was just taking a walk."
Unfortunately, my clever mind seemed to be taking a break. As would be expected, the guard looked severely unimpressed. It was a suspicious scene, I must admit- a girl in peasant's clothing, a few feet from the castle wall, looking like she just fell off it due to the dirt on her hands and knees. His eyebrows furrowed together, and for a blissful moment I thought he was going to let me off.
"What have you got in that bag?"
Oh, no. I made to shake my head, as words were beginning to fail me, but he was done fooling around, apparently. He reached for the leather rucksack and pulled it off my shoulder in a manner that could hardly be described as gentle, undoing the strap and rummaging through its contents.
"So." He began. At this point I had began to frantically shake my head, too scared to interrupt, but not being able too even if I wasn't. "So, thought you could steal from the Royal family, did ye?"
I finally found my voice. "N-no sir, I promise." I croaked, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I suppose they just gave these to you then, is that right? Good friend of the family? Why don't we go have a nice talk with them in that case...I'm certain they will be able to explain everything."
He grabbed my arm fiercely, and I could feel everyone one of his fingers digging in my flesh. I flinched slightly, having never been physically mistreated, or even touched, like this by anyone my whole life. Even worse than the pain was his words- he was taking me back to my parents. That was quite possibly the worst punishment he could've dished out. I found myself frantically writhing around, feeling more like a trapped animal than runaway royalty.
"No!" I said, a little more forcefully than intended. "No sir, please! I beg you, do not take me there."
He stopped, turning back to me with his eyebrows raised. His bushy mustache seemed to twitch when he spoke.
"So you admit it then? You're a thief?"
I put my head down, feeling that if I looked at him, he'd see the lie in my eyes. "Yes sir. I am."
----------------
Who knew jail cells would be so dirty? Other, bigger problems were arising, of course- such as how I would escape once thrown in- but my immediate issue with the cells was their filth. The dirtiest I had ever been was playing outside as a child, but I had a feeling this beat those times. The guard (who still hadn't pried off his hand off my arm) led me down a dark, dank corridor lined with cells. Behind the cold bars ragged men eyed me, a look in their eyes I didn't want to recognize as hunger- but not for lack of rations. I ignored the lewd comments that trailed me down the hall, fearfully skittering out of the way of sideswipes made by grubby hands. The guard led me to the very end of the hall before pulling out a set of rusted keys.
"Here you go, miss." He said in mock formality as he swung open the door. Giving him a harsh look, I curtseyed before the door was slammed shut in my face. And I stood there. It took a while for the shock to wear off, for the adrenaline to seep out of my blood. But once it did, once all was said and done, there I was. The Princess of Arias Nehalem in her own jail. Irony at its finest.
----------------
The solution stood before me, one explanation away, and it drove me mad. All I had to do was give in- I could be out in no time. I would explain to the guard that this was all a mistake, reveal my identity, and graciously accept his apologies as he practically kissed my feet in grief. I could make him sorry for every one of those fingerprints now forming a bruise on my arm. I was, after all, still wearing something of great royal significance- my ring. It was a thick silver band of indented metal, antiqued and battered, but it added more to its style than made it look cheap. An oval ruby was encrusted in the middle- a deep, shimmering jewel the color of blood and red wine. I wore it on my thumb, despite the fact that the ring- having been passed down hundreds of generations- would be recognized as a royal object once pointed out. But it was too important to me, I couldn't leave it behind. Nor could I just flash it to the guard. There would be no easy way out this time, and I was far from giving up.
I gave the iron cylinders one last squeeze of anger before letting my hands slide down their length and drop to my sides. With a frown I backed myself away from the door, all dreams of heroic adventures and distant lands slipping rapidly from my mind, dissolving into the gray walls that had recently become my world. It was almost enough to make a girl cry, had I been the crying type.
"You might as well make yourself comfortable. They don't come back 'til mealtimes, if you were planning on debating s'more."
I jumped and spun on my heel, eyes immediately landing on a figure slouched in the corner of the cell. He had his arms crossed and leaned his head back on the slabs of rocky wall, eyes closed as though he was trying to sleep. Taking a few timid steps toward him, his eyes snapped open, focusing on me with an intense green stare. I stopped immediately, afraid that I was offending the boy by some "personal jail space" law I had yet to learn. Boy...no, at this distance I could clearly see he was no boy. In fact, despite the mud smudged in slashes on his face and his unkempt brown hair, it was quite apparent he was even a few years older than me.
There as a silence in which I stood, to unable to speak, and this stranger seemingly sized me up.
"What're you in for?" he said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again. I seemed to pass his inspection.
"I beg your pardon?"
He grinned; it was a lazy, sly grin that reminded of a cat. He opened an eye to examine me. "I hardly think good looks are a crime. So why are you here?"
For a moment I didn't know what to say. In the castle, when people complimented me, they would say something along the lines of, 'Oh Princess, you look simply radiant this evening.' or 'Beautiful, milady.' I had grown up being fawned over and praised so much that I didn't usually think about it anymore. But I wasn't used to being talked to like this, like a commoner. It occurred to me then just how absurd my proper talk would sound in a place like this.
"I didn't do anything. I was accused of stealing." I put emphasis on the word 'accused', hoping this person wouldn't have me confused with common thieves like the ones now surrounding me now.
He gave a small nod, and I could almost see him deciding not to push the matter, even though he hardly believed this. He sat up and sauntered over to the hard beds on the far wall, sitting himself down and looking at his hands in a preoccupied manner.
"You have a name?"
I stiffened. He glanced up after a moment and then back down, smiling to himself. "That's alright, you don't have to tell me. Just wanted to know the name of my cellmate, is all. I daresay we'll be spending a lot of time together."
"I am not staying here!"
My voice rang through the stone corridor; my own words taunted me as they echoed back. The young man only raised an eyebrow at me, his patient behavior causing me to feel embarrassed, feeling more like a child having a tantrum than an upstanding princess. His eyes seemed to say what his mouth wouldn't- 'You done?'
I felt my lower lip quiver slightly and quickly looked down to the floor. Long, wavy tendrils of gold hair fell before me like a veil, shielding me from his questioning gaze. I didn't want to be studied. I didn't want to be upset. I wanted to be out of there.
----------------
I was sitting back against the wall, hugging my knees and resting my chin on them. One hand played absentmindedly with the fraying threads along the bottom of my breeches as I listened.
"So, your fathers just didn't get along? I hardly find that a good excuse for hating you, let alone framing you." I gave a small frown.
Aidan laughed softly. "Not everything has to be rational. Sometimes people just...are what they are. There's no reason for it. And anyway, I don't think I gave them much of a reason not to like me, I was just as bitter as they were. Ever since we were little, and even after our fathers had both passed away, we were constantly fighting." He paused. "I suppose you're right, we could've stopped the feud right then and there. But it was so much easier to just keep hating than to put the effort in to stop. So I guess I'm just as much to blame as they are."
"Yes, maybe...but they aren't behind bars, are they?"
"No, they aren't. But believe me; if I had thought of it, I wouldn't have given landing them here a second thought either."
I glanced away and looked back to the tattered hem. It had been twelve days; I had long ago given up on my silent treatment, which is a miracle really, because things were much more enjoyable with Aidan to talk to. Well, maybe not enjoyable so much as bearable. But I had to admit he had proved me wrong. I came in here thinking he was a dirty peasant, guilty of crime as everyone else here. But I had come to realize he was just as innocent as me.
He had spent the day telling me his story; how his father, Louis, and Malcolm Guerre (who had three sons all near Aidan's age) had been friends until early adulthood, when Malcolm betrayed Aidan's father's trust. Malcolm went behind Louis's back and stole from him over time, from the man who he called his best friend, before attempting to steal something so near and dear to him, Louis finally noticed- his wife. The whole fiasco ended in a harsh exchange of words and bloody battle, where both men received scars to their faces. Neither of them forgot- due to the unfixable scars- and neither forgave the other man. Their hatred passed on to their sons, who had been born bitter rivals and remained that way. Aidan, who was an apprentice as a goldsmith, fell most regrettably into the Guerre son's plan, and had landed himself in jail. Two of the Guerre sons stole pieces of gold, silver, and pewter from the shop while the other caused a distraction, then quickly planted the evidence in Aidan's bag. When Aidan's boss was tipped off that he had stolen, the guards came and threw him in jail, without so much as an explanation, where he had been for two months.
Despite Aidan's claims that he felt nothing for those boys, I had a feeling he could never do what they did to him. After he let down his guard, he turned out to be much gentler a person than first expected.
"I was accused of stealing too."
Aidan's green eyes immediately met mine again, surprised, no doubt, that I brought this up on my own.
"My rucksack...I was over by the castle walls, and the guard spotted me. He thought I had stolen it all from the castle. So here I am."
"And here I thought you were making that up." He looked thoughtful. "But you never did look like the deviant type."
I raised my eyebrows. "Are you saying I'd be too scared to do anything like that?"
"No, just that you seem like...a good girl."
The way he said 'good' made me feel offended. I gave him a slight scowl; what did he know? I just ran away from home, from my claim to the throne. I would hardly classify myself as the good girl sort. With a small "Hmph!" of annoyance I turned slightly, so I almost had my back to him. I could almost feel him grinning.
"It's not funny, you know." I snapped.
Footsteps. "But it is rather amusing. You're getting offended; I must be right."
"Typical man, always thinks he's right. I'll show you."
Aidan was now standing before me, despite my attempts to turn away. He slowly knelt on the cell's rough stone floor, and I found myself at eye level. His intense stare always made me nervous, and I soon found myself squirming from those green eyes.
"Well, you'll have plenty of chances to prove me wrong," he paused, his face breaking into a sly grin as he stood up, "once we get out of this place."
----------------
The man raised his torch to light my face, and almost immediately I saw who he was- a local guard. I had to talk if I wanted to get off easy; people who gave them trouble were known to appear next in the dungeons. I should know, I've heard them.
"My name is Lisa-" I broke off. Was I trying to get caught? Why didn't I just say, 'Hello there, my name is Lisanne...you know, the Princess? So, do you want to bring me back now or later?'
I shook myself mentally, opening my mouth to give a proper answer, but the guard cut me off.
"Lisa, eh? What business do you have with the royal family?"
'I am the royal family!' would have been the proper answer here. But considering I was going incognito, I had to rely on my clever mind to see me through this one.
"Well sir, I...was just taking a walk."
Unfortunately, my clever mind seemed to be taking a break. As would be expected, the guard looked severely unimpressed. It was a suspicious scene, I must admit- a girl in peasant's clothing, a few feet from the castle wall, looking like she just fell off it due to the dirt on her hands and knees. His eyebrows furrowed together, and for a blissful moment I thought he was going to let me off.
"What have you got in that bag?"
Oh, no. I made to shake my head, as words were beginning to fail me, but he was done fooling around, apparently. He reached for the leather rucksack and pulled it off my shoulder in a manner that could hardly be described as gentle, undoing the strap and rummaging through its contents.
"So." He began. At this point I had began to frantically shake my head, too scared to interrupt, but not being able too even if I wasn't. "So, thought you could steal from the Royal family, did ye?"
I finally found my voice. "N-no sir, I promise." I croaked, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I suppose they just gave these to you then, is that right? Good friend of the family? Why don't we go have a nice talk with them in that case...I'm certain they will be able to explain everything."
He grabbed my arm fiercely, and I could feel everyone one of his fingers digging in my flesh. I flinched slightly, having never been physically mistreated, or even touched, like this by anyone my whole life. Even worse than the pain was his words- he was taking me back to my parents. That was quite possibly the worst punishment he could've dished out. I found myself frantically writhing around, feeling more like a trapped animal than runaway royalty.
"No!" I said, a little more forcefully than intended. "No sir, please! I beg you, do not take me there."
He stopped, turning back to me with his eyebrows raised. His bushy mustache seemed to twitch when he spoke.
"So you admit it then? You're a thief?"
I put my head down, feeling that if I looked at him, he'd see the lie in my eyes. "Yes sir. I am."
----------------
Who knew jail cells would be so dirty? Other, bigger problems were arising, of course- such as how I would escape once thrown in- but my immediate issue with the cells was their filth. The dirtiest I had ever been was playing outside as a child, but I had a feeling this beat those times. The guard (who still hadn't pried off his hand off my arm) led me down a dark, dank corridor lined with cells. Behind the cold bars ragged men eyed me, a look in their eyes I didn't want to recognize as hunger- but not for lack of rations. I ignored the lewd comments that trailed me down the hall, fearfully skittering out of the way of sideswipes made by grubby hands. The guard led me to the very end of the hall before pulling out a set of rusted keys.
"Here you go, miss." He said in mock formality as he swung open the door. Giving him a harsh look, I curtseyed before the door was slammed shut in my face. And I stood there. It took a while for the shock to wear off, for the adrenaline to seep out of my blood. But once it did, once all was said and done, there I was. The Princess of Arias Nehalem in her own jail. Irony at its finest.
----------------
The solution stood before me, one explanation away, and it drove me mad. All I had to do was give in- I could be out in no time. I would explain to the guard that this was all a mistake, reveal my identity, and graciously accept his apologies as he practically kissed my feet in grief. I could make him sorry for every one of those fingerprints now forming a bruise on my arm. I was, after all, still wearing something of great royal significance- my ring. It was a thick silver band of indented metal, antiqued and battered, but it added more to its style than made it look cheap. An oval ruby was encrusted in the middle- a deep, shimmering jewel the color of blood and red wine. I wore it on my thumb, despite the fact that the ring- having been passed down hundreds of generations- would be recognized as a royal object once pointed out. But it was too important to me, I couldn't leave it behind. Nor could I just flash it to the guard. There would be no easy way out this time, and I was far from giving up.
I gave the iron cylinders one last squeeze of anger before letting my hands slide down their length and drop to my sides. With a frown I backed myself away from the door, all dreams of heroic adventures and distant lands slipping rapidly from my mind, dissolving into the gray walls that had recently become my world. It was almost enough to make a girl cry, had I been the crying type.
"You might as well make yourself comfortable. They don't come back 'til mealtimes, if you were planning on debating s'more."
I jumped and spun on my heel, eyes immediately landing on a figure slouched in the corner of the cell. He had his arms crossed and leaned his head back on the slabs of rocky wall, eyes closed as though he was trying to sleep. Taking a few timid steps toward him, his eyes snapped open, focusing on me with an intense green stare. I stopped immediately, afraid that I was offending the boy by some "personal jail space" law I had yet to learn. Boy...no, at this distance I could clearly see he was no boy. In fact, despite the mud smudged in slashes on his face and his unkempt brown hair, it was quite apparent he was even a few years older than me.
There as a silence in which I stood, to unable to speak, and this stranger seemingly sized me up.
"What're you in for?" he said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again. I seemed to pass his inspection.
"I beg your pardon?"
He grinned; it was a lazy, sly grin that reminded of a cat. He opened an eye to examine me. "I hardly think good looks are a crime. So why are you here?"
For a moment I didn't know what to say. In the castle, when people complimented me, they would say something along the lines of, 'Oh Princess, you look simply radiant this evening.' or 'Beautiful, milady.' I had grown up being fawned over and praised so much that I didn't usually think about it anymore. But I wasn't used to being talked to like this, like a commoner. It occurred to me then just how absurd my proper talk would sound in a place like this.
"I didn't do anything. I was accused of stealing." I put emphasis on the word 'accused', hoping this person wouldn't have me confused with common thieves like the ones now surrounding me now.
He gave a small nod, and I could almost see him deciding not to push the matter, even though he hardly believed this. He sat up and sauntered over to the hard beds on the far wall, sitting himself down and looking at his hands in a preoccupied manner.
"You have a name?"
I stiffened. He glanced up after a moment and then back down, smiling to himself. "That's alright, you don't have to tell me. Just wanted to know the name of my cellmate, is all. I daresay we'll be spending a lot of time together."
"I am not staying here!"
My voice rang through the stone corridor; my own words taunted me as they echoed back. The young man only raised an eyebrow at me, his patient behavior causing me to feel embarrassed, feeling more like a child having a tantrum than an upstanding princess. His eyes seemed to say what his mouth wouldn't- 'You done?'
I felt my lower lip quiver slightly and quickly looked down to the floor. Long, wavy tendrils of gold hair fell before me like a veil, shielding me from his questioning gaze. I didn't want to be studied. I didn't want to be upset. I wanted to be out of there.
----------------
I was sitting back against the wall, hugging my knees and resting my chin on them. One hand played absentmindedly with the fraying threads along the bottom of my breeches as I listened.
"So, your fathers just didn't get along? I hardly find that a good excuse for hating you, let alone framing you." I gave a small frown.
Aidan laughed softly. "Not everything has to be rational. Sometimes people just...are what they are. There's no reason for it. And anyway, I don't think I gave them much of a reason not to like me, I was just as bitter as they were. Ever since we were little, and even after our fathers had both passed away, we were constantly fighting." He paused. "I suppose you're right, we could've stopped the feud right then and there. But it was so much easier to just keep hating than to put the effort in to stop. So I guess I'm just as much to blame as they are."
"Yes, maybe...but they aren't behind bars, are they?"
"No, they aren't. But believe me; if I had thought of it, I wouldn't have given landing them here a second thought either."
I glanced away and looked back to the tattered hem. It had been twelve days; I had long ago given up on my silent treatment, which is a miracle really, because things were much more enjoyable with Aidan to talk to. Well, maybe not enjoyable so much as bearable. But I had to admit he had proved me wrong. I came in here thinking he was a dirty peasant, guilty of crime as everyone else here. But I had come to realize he was just as innocent as me.
He had spent the day telling me his story; how his father, Louis, and Malcolm Guerre (who had three sons all near Aidan's age) had been friends until early adulthood, when Malcolm betrayed Aidan's father's trust. Malcolm went behind Louis's back and stole from him over time, from the man who he called his best friend, before attempting to steal something so near and dear to him, Louis finally noticed- his wife. The whole fiasco ended in a harsh exchange of words and bloody battle, where both men received scars to their faces. Neither of them forgot- due to the unfixable scars- and neither forgave the other man. Their hatred passed on to their sons, who had been born bitter rivals and remained that way. Aidan, who was an apprentice as a goldsmith, fell most regrettably into the Guerre son's plan, and had landed himself in jail. Two of the Guerre sons stole pieces of gold, silver, and pewter from the shop while the other caused a distraction, then quickly planted the evidence in Aidan's bag. When Aidan's boss was tipped off that he had stolen, the guards came and threw him in jail, without so much as an explanation, where he had been for two months.
Despite Aidan's claims that he felt nothing for those boys, I had a feeling he could never do what they did to him. After he let down his guard, he turned out to be much gentler a person than first expected.
"I was accused of stealing too."
Aidan's green eyes immediately met mine again, surprised, no doubt, that I brought this up on my own.
"My rucksack...I was over by the castle walls, and the guard spotted me. He thought I had stolen it all from the castle. So here I am."
"And here I thought you were making that up." He looked thoughtful. "But you never did look like the deviant type."
I raised my eyebrows. "Are you saying I'd be too scared to do anything like that?"
"No, just that you seem like...a good girl."
The way he said 'good' made me feel offended. I gave him a slight scowl; what did he know? I just ran away from home, from my claim to the throne. I would hardly classify myself as the good girl sort. With a small "Hmph!" of annoyance I turned slightly, so I almost had my back to him. I could almost feel him grinning.
"It's not funny, you know." I snapped.
Footsteps. "But it is rather amusing. You're getting offended; I must be right."
"Typical man, always thinks he's right. I'll show you."
Aidan was now standing before me, despite my attempts to turn away. He slowly knelt on the cell's rough stone floor, and I found myself at eye level. His intense stare always made me nervous, and I soon found myself squirming from those green eyes.
"Well, you'll have plenty of chances to prove me wrong," he paused, his face breaking into a sly grin as he stood up, "once we get out of this place."