Light Eyes; DarK Eyes

“Princess!” A voice hailed Princess Aurora Tamoren Tilen from across the crowded courtyard. She looked up, light blue eyes flashing in the bright sunlight. Her silvery hair, currently pulled back into a high pony tail, flicked over her shoulder. A young soldier presented himself to her, saluting proudly. Aurora returned it, giving him permission to speak.

“We’ve taken a captive, Your Highness!” The soldier was obviously green. No professional would be that excited over one prisoner. “What would you like us to do with him, my Lady?” He asked, somehow managing to trip himself on nothing.

“Lead the way. I’ll take a look.” Aurora said, straightening. She had been sharpening her sword, now she sheathed it, and swung the belt it was attached to around her waist with the grace of long practice. Her subject led her to a corner of the courtyard closest to the dungeons. A small squad stood near the prisoner, armed with spears and swords. The man was young, and apparently of high birth, because his eyes were blood red. He was certainly Darric, from the country the Celestine were at war with.

The two countries had been fighting for hundreds of years; the original reason had long since been lost. The Darric people were a race of tall, dark haired people. The commoners usually had brown or black eyes, but royalty had red eyes. There were legends that they could use their eyes to control their enemies’ minds. The Celestine were almost their exact opposite, with lighter hair, they were generally shorter. All Celestine people had light eyes; their royalty had the same light blue eyes that Aurora had. The peoples’ respective magicks' were as different as they were, opposites. Theoretically, one Darric’s powers and one Celestine’s powers could combine into something unseen before, but of course, that would mean they would have to stop fighting first. That was about as likely to happen as the war was to stop.

He looked relaxed, as though he often stood, with his hands tied behind his back no less, in the courtyard of the Celestine Palace. He was tall, of course, and sinewy. His skin was rather pale, but that could have been the light.

A soldier handed Aurora his weapon. Unprepared for the weight, she nearly dropped it. A look of surprise flashed across her face at lightening speed. It was far heavier than any sword she’d ever held before, easily three times her own blade. It was in proportion to his height, making it a bit shorter than her shoulder.

“It’s sharp, too.” The Darric spoke up, watching with interest as she held his weapon. His voice was light, which was even odder than the fact that he’d spoken. Most Darric prisoners of war merely narrowed their eyes and looked angry when their weapons were handled. They didn’t talk either, not even under pressure. He was an odd one, alright.

She pulled the weapon a few inches out of its sheath, to test the blade. The princess had barely touched it when she pulled her hand back, bleeding slightly. She glanced at the Darric. He raised an eyebrow, looking mildly amused.

“I did warn you.” He said, earning a rather painful whack with a spear handle across the back, forcing him to take a step forward. “…I’m not sure I deserved that…” He remarked dryly in his own language. She repressed a smile, thinking it fortunate that her father had made her learn the Darric tongue.

“They could be just a little overenthusiastic, perhaps. But you were being impertinent.” Aurora informed him, using the same language.

“You speak Darric, then.” He commented, losing the pretense of holding a conversation.

She nodded. “’Half the battle is in knowing your enemy’, eh?” he quoted a famous Celestine visionary.

“Apparently, because you speak Celestine very well.” She commented, still speaking Darric. His grin was wry, and he bowed a bit.

“Well, I must thank you, and say the same to you.” He told her, breaking back into Celestine, ignoring the very confused soldiers around him. A messenger came running up. He threw a salute, and she acknowledged him with a nod.

“Princess Aurora.” She sighed in exasperation. What were they teaching in training camp these days? Well, it’s not like the Darric was going to be escaping. She glanced at him, and thought she could even see an empathetic glint in his eye before she turned back to the messenger.

“Your father, the King, would like to see you immediately in his study, highness.” Aurora tilted her head back, and looked to the heavens, as though asking the gods for a gift of patience. She knew five year olds that knew not to address superiors by name in front of enemy soldiers.

“Beautiful.” The Darric appeared to be addressing the messenger, a condescending smile very much in evidence. “Now, not only do I know who she is, and am therefore able to identify her; I also know where she and the King will be for a period of time.” The messenger looked horrified at what he was implying, and a guard raised his spear to knock the prisoner out. He neatly sidestepped, bringing him closer to the messenger and her, and readdressed the boy. Aurora watched with narrowed eyes, and held up a hand to stay the guards. “By rights, you’ve just killed them. And, effectively, yourself and me too. You’re presumably dead because you just betrayed your country. I’m dead because I know where the king and heir to the throne are, and because I’m an enemy soldier.” The messenger went paler and paler with each word. Aurora smothered a smile; the Darric had completely hit the nail on the head, and had summed the potential fates of everyone up, with textbook accuracy.

He stepped back to his original position, next to the guards, moving with the speed and grace of a cat. “And, now; I suppose it’s to the dungeon for me.” he said with mock despair. The guards looked to Aurora. She nodded. Before they disappeared inside, he looked back, over his shoulder.

“I won’t talk, you know.” He added in Darric, apparently addressing the princess.
She stared after him for a minute, and turned to the messenger. He was still quite pale and was trembling a bit. She felt a bit of pity for him. Getting reprimanded was always embarrassing, but an enemy soldier doing it…that had to have been mortifying.

“Have you learned from this?” she inquired. He nodded. “Dismissed, soldier.” He saluted, and ran off, looking a bit odd. She dismissed it from her mind, writing it off as embarrassment, and went back into the palace, to her father’s study.