Light Eyes; DarK Eyes

Several days after, Aurora wasn’t feeling well. She insisted that she was fine when Aiden asked her if she was alright. More concerned than he let on, he watched her closely that morning. The weather certainly wasn’t helping. It was unseasonably damp and chilly, with a wind that always seemed to be aimed to pierce right through them, for all he put himself in its way when he could. It didn’t do anything but reassure him that she was sickening for something, if she wasn’t already feverish. It was definitely worrying when she didn’t protest not going to the class. She wasn’t sure what to think about his persistence in making her take it easy.
It was kind of odd, really. It felt like cramps, but she didn’t have her monthlies. Lying down relieved it for a bit, but pretty soon even that didn’t help. She went into the sitting room, hoping that she might be able to walk it off. It didn’t help at all, instead making the pain almost twice as bad. She whimpered a bit. It was really bad. Tears started to well up in her eyes.
In the room next door, Aiden was trying very hard to breathe, with very little to show for it. Panting and coughing, he had to hold on to a chair back to remain standing; his first true taste of the contract he’d signed was making his vision swim.

A scream echoed through the rooms.

When the soldiers got there, Aurora was unconscious and Aiden was holding her up, having caught her only seconds before. The captain of the squad, the same man that had originally led Aiden to her rooms in the first place, grabbed him by the shirt collar, shoving him roughly into the wall, knocking what breath remained out of him.
“What did you do?” He demanded in a snarl.
“I didn’t—do anything,” Aiden managed to choke out, the contract still too tight for him to be able to breathe regularly.
The King swept in, having heard the uproar. His jaw tightened when he saw the scene before him. With a single breath; he ordered Aiden to be taken to the dungeon, Aurora to be carried to the bed, and for the healers to be fetched immediately.

It was two days before anyone bothered with Aiden, aside from cautiously leaving bread and water where he could reach it, after they managed to get him in the cell, which as usual, was far too small for him to pace well in. Oxygen deficiency had slowed him down, but he fought entering the dungeon every step of the way. The constant pressure against his windpipe, which had dulled only a little within the last forty-eight hours, told him that Aurora was still in pain. It hurt him, aside from the contract, to know that she was in pain. Reluctantly, he half allowed the thought that had plagued him a few nights before to have a little more credit than he’d originally given it. Alright, a lot more credit than he’d given it. When the King himself descended to the dungeons; Aiden knew, with the feeling of his heart sinking, that the cause of Aurora’s pain hadn’t been found. Not if they were coming to him. He stopped his pacing for the first time in almost five hours, and went over to the bars of the cell, where the door was.
As he approached, Celadon looked closely at him. His breathing was restricted, yes—but he wasn’t dead, so he truly hadn’t tried to harm Aurora…This concept didn’t bother the King as much as he thought it would.
“I see you’re still alive.” He observed aloud, trying to make his voice sound less strained.
“I didn’t do it.” Aiden stated, the pressure making him hoarse, but without any resentment.
“Then have you any ideas as to what is wrong with my daughter?” The king asked, wondering if the man in front of him would care enough even to think about it.
“What are her symptoms—aside from the pain?” Aiden inquired, his voice quite raspy. Celadon was surprised, albeit pleasantly. He did care, although the King wasn’t sure who he was worried about, himself or Aurora.
“High fever, abdominal pain, diluted pupils…” He shrugged, with a royal sort of helplessness.
“Hallucinations? Conscious, unconscious? Swollen glands?” The Darric pressed. The King saw that his eyes were filled with concern.
“She’s either asleep or unconscious. Quite pale. No hallucinations that we know of…The healers have never seen anything like this before. And she’s starting to cough blood.” He revealed to the younger man, whose eyes flashed as he added up the symptoms. He seemed to have come to a conclusion.
“Let me see her,” he requested. Seeing the uncertainty in Celadon’s face, he continued. “I think I know what’s wrong with her, but I have to check. Please. Let me see her.” He’d utterly astounded the King. A Darric, pleading to have a chance to help the Celestine princess…truly the gods had an ironic sense of humor.
Without warning, Celadon walked away. Aiden watched him go, anger and misery clear on his face, unseen by any living creature. He returned to pacing the tiny cell with an ill-suppressed fury. The king returned a few minutes later, much to his surprise, with the keys to the cell.
“You have quite a reputation down here, boy.” He informed the dark-haired man, opening the door. Aiden grinned darkly as he strode through the door, free again—conditionally.
“I try.” He said, trying to relax some of the nerves that were twanging like a taut bowstring. It had taken four men to get him into the cell in the first place, and only one was fit for duty the next day. The guard with the keys had been very reluctant to give them to Celadon and he jumped about a foot in the air when he saw the living terror stride past him unfettered.
The walk back to Aurora’s room was swift and almost uncomfortably silent. Celadon thought about the little he actually knew about the man beside him. He noticed that Aiden, for all his hurry, was still shortening his stride, allowing him to walk at the same pace as Celadon. For someone with so little respect for nobility in general, he appeared to hold the Celestine king a little higher in his esteem then he had originally. If that was true…and he really only respected those who had earned it in his eyes…then Aiden was a truly formidable opponent, for he didn’t underestimate his enemies (or allies) either. Aurora seemed to be the only one he’d come close to opening up to, though.
They entered the rooms, going straight through to the bedroom. Celadon barely caught the brief look of horror that briefly stole over Aiden’s face. He wasn’t surprised to see it. Aurora was lying still; asleep, or more likely; unconscious again. She was as pale as fine paper, and looked tiny in the large bed. It was like she was made of porcelain.
The healers that surrounded her were tired and discouraged looking. They couldn’t do anything for her, in fear of making her worse. The king motioned them out, receiving some curious looks. He was going to let him near the princess? Wasn’t he a main suspect? But they went without fuss, too disheartened to argue.
Aiden had barely touched Aurora’s forehead to check her temperature, when he pulled his hand back, as though he’d been bitten by a snake. He cursed quite vividly in Darric, a choice phrase that even the King wasn’t entirely clear on the meaning.
“What’s wrong?” Celadon asked, brow wrinkling.
“I was right,” Aiden said, shaking his hand like it was burned. “Iron poisoning.”
“What? But iron doesn’t—”
“Affect your people. It doesn’t—not to this extent, at least.” Aiden agreed. “This is a trap, set for Aurora—and me.”
The King was confused. “Why—” he didn’t seem to know how to word the sentence.
“She dies of iron poisoning, and I’ll be killed, in the name of your justice.” He said grimly.
The last hope of the King flickered and died. “Aurora will die, then?” he asked, devastated.
“Not if I can help it,” Aiden said, lips tightening. “Abdominal pain, you said?”
“Y—yes, that’s right,” Celadon said, a hope against hope rekindling itself. Aiden pulled down the bed covers, and tugged her shirt up a bit, baring about a hands-width of skin.
“I’m going to need magic for this,” he said, wondering if the King would grant it to him. He did, pulling the magic bind from around Aiden’s neck. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “And a distraction, please.” He said, getting right to work. He placed his hand on the bare skin with a wince.
“A distraction?” The king asked, wondering why and what kind.
“Just keep talking, please. It takes very little iron in the bloodstream to kill one of my people,” he grimaced. There was more iron than he’d expected. “It takes much, much more to harm one of yours.” He paused, trying to catch his breath, because the contract was tightening again. “Usually, her body would dispose of the imbalance naturally, but there’s a blocking agent, keeping it in her body. The more iron,” He grimaced again, “the more pain—for her and for me.”
“Where did you learn this?” Celadon asked, rather impressed.
“In my…country, this is a—particularly gruesome—way to kill…an enemy,” Aiden was panting now, still absorbing the iron from her body, taking as much of it into his own as he could. “Contact with it is bad enough. Cuts are often…fatal, but this is…by far the most…effective way, with iron. Our bodies…can’t process it. And it’s uncomfortable—and expensive…having it removed…too.” The Darric’s eyes were starting to glaze over some, and he was as pale as Aurora. The pauses in between his words were getting longer as he fought for breath.
“Why are you doing this, if it’s killing you?” Celadon asked, unsure of the motives behind this suicide mission. Aiden grinned wanly.
“Entirely—selfish—reasons,” He swayed, dismantling the blocking agent so that what little excess iron was still in her could be dealt with. The King took a step forward, to catch him, in case he fell. More iron entered his bloodstream. Aurora thrashed briefly, letting Aiden catch her hand and hold it in his free hand. Slowly—so slowly, Celadon thought—some color crept back into her face. Her breathing, which had been haggard and labored, became easier and deepened. She had drifted from unconsciousness to sleep, a sure sign that she would be fine.
Aiden’s hand slipped from her bare skin, which was cooler already. The relief that the king could see in his face was almost frightening in its intensity. Aiden’s eyelids trembled, before they closed, and he collapsed. Celadon caught him, noticing that he still held Aurora’s hand with a surprisingly gentle grip, taking into consideration that Celadon couldn’t unlatch his strong fingers.
There was no doubting Aiden’s innocence now. A guilty man would not have almost killed himself to save the person he wanted dead. He wondered how much pain the Darric was in. Judging by the pallor of his skin and how tense his jaw and hands were; more than he deserved. Much more. Now…where to put him?… It felt somehow wrong, to the king, to separate them, although the idea of them sleeping in the same bed made him nauseous. But if she—they—were being targeted for assassination again, than they would be safer together…
“Ah, what the hell?” He asked himself, maneuvering Aiden’s long body into the bed next to Aurora. He very nearly changed his mind on the spot when Aurora, still asleep, snuggled up to the unconscious Aiden.
“I’m getting too old for this…” he muttered as he left the room.