Light Eyes; DarK Eyes

“Ah, Your highnesses.” They were greeted by Prince Mathias. He was an image of Aiden, four years older, with shorter hair, and rather less lanky. Aurora could already see why Aiden would respect this man. Mathias was gracious, polite, and, above all, he looked like someone who valued honesty and fairness. His handshake was firm, and he looked them both straight in the eye. He was definitely someone that could be trusted…at least by those with the same values. “Welcome to Darria. This is the first time at the Palace, is it not?” They both nodded. “How was your trip?” He asked, leading them to a drawing room where refreshments had been laid out.
“Not too onerous. Thank you for asking,” Celadon said politely. “May I inquire as to the fate of our gracious host?” he asked, wondering where he was, if he wasn’t here. A chilling smile appeared on Mathias’s face, one that left them in no doubt as to the current activities of the Darric monarch, which his next words merely enforced. He was trying to get Aiden to talk, to have some sort of advantage over them.
“I’m afraid he’s currently occupied with undoubtedly unpleasant investigational duties.” They both caught the slight emphasis on ‘unpleasant’. Aurora repressed a shiver, knowing that they were being watched. A maid bustled in, taking plates away. Not one of them had eaten any refreshments, although they had all taken at least one. The potted plant nearby had had three cups of tea slipped into it. The leaves were already starting to yellow.
This visit wasn’t going to be particularly pleasant.

“Aiden. Aiden,” Mathias hissed, making him stir. Red eyes flickered open, before being clamped shut again. The light Mathias held wasn’t particularly bright, but the dungeons were pitch black at night and light was not exactly encouraged there. Aiden opened one eye, and then the other, letting them get used to the light. The tiny oil lamp flickered in the draught that constantly flowed though the dank place. Its glow revealed Mathias’s cousin, leaning exhaustedly against the wall of the cell he’d recently been thrown into, again. Lash abrasions laced over him; layered over half healed others of the same ilk; not stopping at his chest, they extended to his arms and legs as well. Dried blood had crusted itself over the newly broken skin, but a few knife-inflicted wounds still bled. His face had suffered a few cuts as well, along with several painful-looking bruises.
With a muffled snarl, the heir pulled out a set of keys, ignoring the protests that were coming from the man within.
“Don’t be a fool! Mathias, don’t get yourself killed—” The door swung open, and Mathias came through it, making the protests pointless.
“I come bearing news,” Mathias said, ripping a strip of cloth from Aiden’s shirt to bandage his arm with. They had long-since learned not to use actual bandages—which Aiden alone would have no access to. Aiden waited for him to continue, desperate for word of the outside world.
“Well?” he asked several minutes later, finally impatient, as Mathias maneuvered another strip of shirt around his thin waist.
“The princess and her father are here. We’re getting you out, in five days.”
“What?!” Aiden asked, flabbergasted. “The plan was for the war to end, not for some harebrained rescue attempt! Especially not for someone who has no political standing whatsoever!” he snarled in a low voice. Mathias jerked the bandage tighter, making him wince.
“You deserved that. Why do you think I asked you to write on the bottom of that parchment?” he asked, not looking at his cousin, while he wrapped another cloth strip around his waist. There was a sardonic silence.
“I can see you’re well prepared to become king,” Aiden muttered, rather impressed, despite himself. Mathias grinned, and stood.
“Time for me to go. Try to stay alive for five more days, alright?” he asked, slipping out of the cell and relocking it. Aiden raised a hand, signaling that he’d heard. His eyes were closed again, and he still looked bone weary.