The Marble Tower

-1-

The term "albino" is used to describe people or animals with unusually pale skin or fur.  And though it may be incorrect, it was the only word that was coming to mind to describe her.  Her pale hair fell long and might have been flat had it not been tossed around from the bed.  Her eyes were closed with peaceful sleep even though most would just be coming home from work today, or making dinner.  Just another thing to add to the pile of reasons why they would be better off without this palace and all of the people in it.  But what stuck out the most was her skin, pale as the white marble that made up the tower.  It was almost sickly.

He heard the heavy footsteps of the guards behind him between his heavy breaths.  He quick leapt into action.  Grabbing her by the shoulder he pulled her out of bed.  His knife at her throat.  The strong gesture opened her eyes and he found that they to were a pale shade, blue, gray, white, or even silver.

It was harder than he thought.  Keeping her on her feet.  Her legs were quivering, shivering and would barely held her up.  And it was annoyingly hard to keep her on those unsteady feet while he was pinning one of her arms behind her and holding a knife to her throat.  All while she desperately clawed at his arm with her spare hand in an attempt to free herself.

The iron boots of the armed guards came closer.  The door burst open and they came running in.  Stopping instantly.

He allowed a small grin to tug at his lips.  If her placement, her surroundings, the special treatment that she has so obviously been given, their reaction was enough.  She was important.

He had won.

Dead silence.

Not even his prisoner dared let out a whimper.

A soldier stepped forward.

She bristled more.

The guard removed his helmet and dropped it on the floor.   It landed with a loud clunk.  He carried no sword.

"Give her here." was all he said.

He had to stop himself from scoffing.  Like he would do that.  Though he had to give him props for staying calm.  Despite the tension in his jaw.

"Give her here and we'll let you go."

He was taller than most, and older, but not to a point.  He had a few gray hairs and a bit of studded facial hair, to short to really turn into anything.

He twisted her arm a little bit more.  Though her discomfort was obvious, she was still silent.

He backed up, his gray eyes pleading, "Please, just give her to us."

He was sincere.  He would let him go.  But the twenty or so armed soldiers behind him would be less generous.

"No.  How about you get out of my way now, all of you, or she's the first to go."

Eye contact.  If he was in charge- he would be the first to back down. 

A moment passed.  Then two.  But finally he turned and stepped out of the doorway. 

And one by one, the others followed.