Chain Mail and Butterfly Wings

Angeline's Point of View

That night, I made something simple to feed to the prisoners, a simple pot of beef stew. Of course, I had to make a hell of a lot more than usual because the rest of the guards would come sniffing around and want some too. Of course, this was because they either didn't like what the kitchen had or they were to lazy to find something to make on their own.

Before any of them could come around, I served up four bowls with soup and balanced them with precision all the way to the prison wing and brought them to the first four cells on the left side. I filled up the next three bowls and set them aside as I dug out the one prisoner's "present" and dumped it on a plate with a sickened expression and picked up the three bowls and plate and brought them to the first three cells on the right and the plate of shit to the second to last prisoner. I smiled happily as I pushed the plate under the small slot beneath the bars where food and water was transferred to the prisoners. The man scowled and sulked in the corner until I left.

I filled one last bowl and then shuffled off to the storeroom to grab a pillow and blanket. I grabbed the bowl of stew and proceeded to the prison.

The moment I came within earshot of the last cell the prisoner who had "missed" his chamber pot, stopped talking abruptly. No doubt he was talking about how evil I was, and I was happy with that, better to be feared then ridiculed.

I dropped the pillow and blanket on the ground and glanced into the cell. I stiffened slightly, realizing that the young man was just sitting in the middle of his cell...staring at me...

"Uh, here." I held the bowl out for him to grab.

The young man stood up in a way that seemed almost, fluid-like and graceful and approached the bars. He paused, looking from side to side then stated, "The bars are in the way."

...Crap, he was right. I swore inwardly, the rest of the cells had a slot at the bottom of the cells where food and what not could be slid under, his was the only one that didn't! Curse Commander Burman and his cheap-skate genes! I scowled and glanced behind him and then pointed sharply. "Erm, go sit over there."

The boy shrugged and walked over to sit on his cot, and then he stared at me curiously.

I fumbled with the ring of keys I had, finding the one I had engraved "R-5" into, for cell number five on the right side. I thrust the key into the lock, turned it, pulled it back out and pulled open the door. I shuffled into the cell, set the bowl quickly on the floor and scuffled backwards and closed the door again. "There." I nodded toward the young man.

The young man stood up and walked over to the bowl, sitting down directly in front of it, he took several calm bites. I had begun to turn away but he nodded his head in my direction and asked, "Those for me?"

I swung quickly around to see the blanket and pillow I had brought with me...Damn.

"Uh...yeah," I murmured. Today was definitely not my day. I was messing up left and right.

Yet again, I fumbled for the right key, thrust it into the lock, opened the door, and bent down to grab the blanket and pillow.

I only realized my mistake half-way between standing up and when something struck my right shoulder and hip. I rolled a few feet on the floor and quickly regained my footing.

I had turned to see what had hit me only to realize with a bit of embarrassment that it had been the cell door, and standing in the doorway of said cell was the newest prisoner. Swiftly, I pulled my baton from the holster at my side.

An odd expression came onto the young man's face, something between determination and something else I couldn't read. Before I could say anything though, there was a shout from down the hall. The next part seemed to be in slow motion as I realized my mistake, I looked away from the young man, the only threat to me at the moment. Instantly, I felt an arm wrap around my waist and neck, cutting off my air supply. I struggled for a moment, and he managed to shake the baton from my hand while tightening his hold around my neck. "Calm down," he whispered fiercely.

I really wouldn't have cooperated with him if I wasn't losing so much oxygen, but I slowly lost the will to thrash around. He didn't exactly loosen his grip, but he did stop tightening it, which was partially good. It meant he wasn’t going to strangle me to death, but it also meant he was most likely intending on using me for something. Probably leverage. Great.

I looked ahead of me with a scowl when I saw two other guards running toward me and the prisoner. "Don't come any closer," the young man warned in a malicious tone, causing me to flinch slightly.

The other two guards froze at seeing me and glared at the young man, probably cursing me in their minds. The arm around my waist slid away for a brief moment.

I took the moment to try and elbow my captor in the ribs, but he caught my arm and tightened the arm around my neck again, scattering my thoughts when the blood began to rush to my head. My eyes widened when I heard something that caused my stomach to clench and I suddenly felt like I had to pee. The dagger that I had strapped to my arm slid from its sheath just enough to catch the prisoner's attention.

What was worse was that I wasn't supposed to have a dagger, it was one of the many conditions that came with being the only female guard.

I practically felt the prisoner's glee, just before he ripped the sleeve on my shirt. He actually ripped my shirt! How was I going to get that replaced? I wasn't that great of a tailor so I most certainly wasn't going to be the one to fix it.

While I fumed over my ripped shirt, the young man pulled the dagger from its sheath and shifted so that his arm wasn't around my neck anymore, but the dagger was pressed tightly against it, and his free arm wrapped around my waist. Oh. My. God. He was going to use me as a hostage for his escape!

"Run him through!" I ordered briskly, but that was all I got to say before the dagger sliced a portion of my neck and I flinched and ceased talking.

"Are you stupid?" the prisoner demanded in a fierce whisper.

I didn't reply, but stole a glance at the other two guards, who looked like they were considering my request, regardless of whether I'd live or not. Just as I thought one of them might lunge toward us, the door opened again and General Darren stepped into the room, trailed by four other guards.

I groaned involuntarily and the young man glanced down at me in confusion, but locked his eyes on General Darren again, dismissing my strange noises. This had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life and General Darren just had to come and see it, to further escalate my embarrassment.

He assessed the situation quickly and I could only watch as he strode forward and put a hand on each of the guard's shoulders and ordered firmly, "Stand down."

He was going to let the prisoner escape. General Darren was the only one I knew in the entire castle that wouldn't sacrifice me in order to keep a prisoner from escaping. That was probably one part of him that contributed to the crush I had on him, despite how much older than me he was. I wasn't sure if this was exactly a good thing, since I didn't want to be the reason that a seemingly important prisoner would be escaping. If only there was some way that I could escape the young man's grasp and thus prevent him from escaping, my blunder would be overlooked...for the most part anyway.

"Sir! Don't be stupid!" I croaked and cringed as the young man pressed the dagger closer to my skin, drawing a thin line of blood across my neck.

"Silence guard!" General Darren bellowed, a cold look in his eyes. I clenched my teeth, I realized that he didn't want me hurt, or worse dead, but I didn't want to be the reason that a prisoner escaped! I couldn't stress that enough, I had a bad enough reputation as it was, being the only female guard who didn't even fight! Not to mention I had gone against regulation and hidden a dagger on me, which the prisoner just-so-happened get a hold of.

"Let her go Aiden," the General growled, "then maybe I won't kill you once I catch you." There was a strangely acidic tone to the General's voice that I wasn't accustomed to.

"Sorry General, but I don't think that would be a wise choice, since this pretty little guard," he moved the dagger from my throat to my jaw and then back without cutting me, "is my ticket out of here. I know and you know that the moment I let her go you'll be putting me back in that dingy little cell. And I don't think that's what I want to happen." The young man was being sarcastic, and a little too haughty for a man in his position, then again if he noticed that I would have to remain unharmed, then this prisoner wasn't as stupid as some of the others that had come my way.

I had been about to protest again when the young man pulled the dagger away from my throat just long enough to crash the hilt against the pressure point near the back of my head. With a string of colorful language on my part, I was knocked out.