Heart Over Sword

The morning light shone through the bars of the cell. Evanna was still asleep, sitting on the ground with her legs sprawled out in front of her and her back and head leaning against the wall. After a horrible night's sleep, Evanna was surprised when her mind suddenly snapped into place, alert, ready for the new day. However, she was disoriented and forgot where she was, automatically reaching out for her swords.

Her hands grabbed the air, and she looked to the side only to see the hay and thin blanket atop it. Her eyes glanced around the room, and she sighed. With a frown forming on her face, she recalled yesterday's events and what led her to sit on the cold floor of an elven dungeon. 

She shook her head then hissed. Her whole body ached from the position she slept in; her back, bum, and neck took the centre of attention. She stretched her neck one way and then the other, only to hear it crack.

Evanna sighed again and decided to get up, it seemed her body hated her for sleeping that way, but she was not going to sleep on the hay. She didn't know what else slept inside of it, let alone using the disgusting blanket that others had used before. She had her mask and cloak to keep her warm, which was good enough for her.

A man's cry suddenly made her halt her steps. She looked around, shocked after hearing another cry. She raised a shaky hand to her mouth. There were other prisoners, and they were being tortured. Evanna pulled her cloak closer to herself after suddenly feeling cold, and the thought of being next occurred to her.

She looked at all corners of the cell for any means of escape, but like the previous night before, she found none. It was useless. But unlike the night before, she now had a guard. He was at the furthest end of the cell, to the point that Evanna nearly couldn't see him, but her sense told her he was there. It was odd, but although she was in the worst possible place right now, her senses were not acting chaotically.

No cold feeling or shiver ran through her. Was this because she was in no immediate danger? After all, she was merely pacing in a cell, waiting for her impending doom. Evanna sighed, she wasn't even 18 yet, and soon she would be dead.

**

At the other end of the palace, prince Arawn sat in the dining room with his father. The king sat at the head of the long dining table made of white marble, with the prince seated at his right side. The king glanced across the beauty that was his table.

The white marble surface met the gold legs joining the top that then flourished across the smooth surface, leaving engraved patterns of gold. Almost as though the gold had been dripped and splashed across artistically. The table itself could fit up to 24 people, but the only elves in the room, was the king and crown prince, along with the number of servants standing near the walls at their beck and call.

This was one of the three smaller dining rooms they possessed. It was also their favourite out of the many. One of the reasons is that the sun shone magnificently into the room in the morning and early evening, sending beams of multicoloured light across the floors. For above their table, instead of chandeliers, there were light catchers, and above them, the roof was open, revealing whatever the weather was outside.

It was their private dining room and only ever used for familial functions. Which, after the years, turned into just for the pair of them to eat there.

They ate their breakfast quietly; the sound of cutlery clinking on the plates echoed in the bright room. Arawn paused for a moment as he thought back to Evanna, and the way, even to the end, she tried to fight. He watched her eyes calculate the next move to get her sword, even with his sword pointed at her neck. 

"* What is wrong with you?*" 

Arawn looked at his father from the corner of his eye before taking another bite from his meal. The servants looked at one another, confused, the prince had not said or done anything, and his facial expression was as cold as usual. He merely blinked.

They could not tell what caused the king to speak out; it was unusual. The king and prince never talk to each other in the mornings. So this was something for the servants to at least be entertained by, without, of course, being noticed.

Arawn placed his cutlery down and spoke quietly, "* I do not know what you mean? *" He straightened his back even further as he looked into his father's blade-like eyes.

The king placed his own cutlery down now and scrutinised his son before asking quietly, so the servants could not hear, "* What are your plans for the thief? *"

Arawn shook his head once.

"* I see.*" 

Prince Arawn stood up and placed his handkerchief on his plate, and turned his back on the king without another word said. He hastily walked through the hallways before coming to an abrupt stop. Garrett turned the corner and stood in his way, his massive arms crossed against his chest.

"*Most people run or apologise before standing in my way..*" The prince began.

"*I am not most people, your highness. *" Garrett replied drily.

Arawn sighed, relaxing his stiff posture, "* Then I suppose you're right.*" 

Garrett moved to the side, so they walked together; he checked their surroundings, verifying that it was just the pair of them. He gave the prince a nod to confirm it was okay to talk freely.

"*We are keeping what happened last night from the locals and, of course, the Lyvarians. This cannot get out that a group of HUMANS," He said the word with such disdain, Garrett felt the hallway becoming colder, "were capable of getting into the palace AND stealing from us. Our reputation is on the line, and I am in no mood to get my hands dirty for a while. What is the update on the men that escaped? *"

Garrett held his hands behind his back, an action he was unaware that he did, every time the prince would be told something he did not wish to hear. Arawn immediately picked up on the small action, and his face hardened even more.

"* Our men are yet to find them, *" Garrett replied gravely.

"* They better not disappoint me, Garrett,*" His ice-cold gaze flickered to his friend and back to the hallway in front of them. They were walking towards Hal Morock, one of two of their dungeons. The prince quickened his pace but was stopped by Garrett, who grabbed him by the arm, Arawn looked down at where his hand was, and Garrett immediately removed it and stepped back. 

"* Speak what is on your mind and be done with it, *" Arawn waved his hand impatiently. He already predicted Garrett's following words, but he wanted to see Evanna. 

"*What are your plans for that girl?*" He asked.

Arawn smiled a devilish smile, "* I do not know yet.*" Garrett looked at his facial expression and held back from sighing or frowning. The prince knew precisely what he wanted to do but did not want to reveal it to him yet.

"*But I do need to interrogate her, so, if you are done.. I would like to get to that. Instead of acting as my guard, I want you to lead training today,*" Arawn turned around and continued making his way to the dungeon.

Once he made it to the top of the tower, he looked in at the cell Evanna was placed in. He watched her for a few seconds before making his presence known.

Evanna finally looked up from the position on the ground and was not surprised when she saw Arawn staring down at her with his frosty blue eyes. She grimaced, taking in his clean and tidy appearance compared to hers; she was jealous at how straight and intact his hair was. Which was pulled back in his half-up hairstyle.

He looked more the part of a prince today. Not wearing his dirty clothes or boots. No, he wore high-quality garments, all in black. The black shirt he wore was buttoned up, leaving the last two open, revealing a part of his muscular chest. His black jacket went down to his knees and had the lightest of black and silver patterns etched into the thick material.

Evanna had to look away, afraid that she was gawking.

He tilted his head to the side, "No, good morning, your highness?"

Evanna tried and failed at forcing herself not to narrow her eyes at him and repeated what he said anyway, dripping with sarcasm, "Good morning, your highness."

Arawn ignored her tone of voice and turned to look at her weaponry on the table. He picked her swords up and examined them, his hand stroked the blade, admiring the patterns on the steel, "Lyvarian", he murmured and held back a smile when he looked at her from the corner of his eye to see her near the bars now, eying her swords.

Evanna watched as the prince inspected her things, starting with her weapons before grabbing her bag looking through them. The first thing he found was the bag of gold coins; he placed it in his hand as though he weighed it before opening it and checking the contents. Evanna looked down as she gripped the bars tightly.

"Did you steal all this money?" He asked quietly.

Evanna looked up at him, insulted by his question, and was about to deny it. Yet, the slight smirk on his features made her purse her lips with the denial and gulp down her pride.

"Yes," She looked away from him and decided the cell was much better to look at. But honestly, who was she kidding? The prince was a much nicer sight to see, not that she would ever tell him that. The man knew he was good looking. 

"So, you have always been a thief?" He queried as he placed the bag of gold down and rummaged through her bag again.

"No," She replied, again still sticking to the bare minimum words necessary.

Arawn clicked his tongue in agitation, "Explain more, RAVEN."

Evanna looked up and saw his fiery blue eyes on her. She sighed, sticking to half-truths, "I haven't been a thief for very long."

Arawn turned around, holding her book in his hand, but his eyes were on her, "You know, if you keep twisting your words like that, I will think you a council man." He took a step towards her. The only thing between them now was the bars as he looked down at her.

"Why did you steal the gem?" He asked again. Evanna snapped her lips shut, and she could see a flicker of anger burning in his eyes at her action, but she could not tell if she imagined it because he instantly changed the subject,

"This book. Where did you get it?" He flicked through the pages.

Evanna sighed and replied casually, "It was my mothers."

Arawn snapped his eyes back at hers, "Was?"

"I took it," Was all she replied with. 

Arawn gritted his teeth together, and he slammed the book shut. He was getting nowhere with her. He thought by letting her stay in the cell for the remainder of the night, she might want to open up a little, but he was wrong. He miscalculated her. But the moment he saw her hands, when she touched her face in the early morning, he knew she was of noble birth.

To confirm it, he needed to touch her and assess them further by grabbing them, feeling the smoothness of her skin and how well looked after they were. It seemed, only the dirt on her face and bruises she was covered in made her look like the bandit she dressed as. So, by leaving her in the cell, he expected her to nearly be begging to leave; it seemed he was wrong. 

This made her all the more interesting.