Chapter 1
Draco screamed, throwing the half-sawed apple across the room. The sound echoed around the place, despite how full of junk it was. The green apple landed somewhere in one of the large piles that were everywhere, all the old crap that students had been storing in this place for...well presumably since the castle was made in the first place so for several centuries. His eyes glared out, seeing nothing, tears flooding them, but by some miracle he was able to hold them back.
Taking a shuddering breath, he let his body drop to sit on the edge of the cupboard. "It is absolutely hopeless." Draco muttered to himself, feeling tears begin to sting as they slowly fell from his eyes. They dripped from his cheeks onto his legs. Draco felt his body shudder at the fear that gripped him, and let his arms drape across his knees, his head falling heavily on his arms. "How...” He murmured to the empty air. “How am I supposed to fix this...this thing in less than five months?" This task that he had been given by the Dark Lord was more than just difficult...and it left him anxious to complete, but at the same time he was having a lot of difficulty. "It has been three months already,” He whispered to himself, finally allowing the fear and frustration to penetrate through. “...and in those three months. I have failed in every bloody conceivable way.” Not that Draco thought he was supposed to succeed. He wagered that the Dark Lord had given him this task expecting him to fail. The Death Eaters would just raid the castle if he could not find a way to let them in secretly. He had heard the Dark Lord speaking to his Aunt Bella about it. Surprisingly, the madwoman had backed him up, saying she knew that Draco was more than capable of figuring a way for them to get in. While Draco was honored by his Aunt’s belief in him, he was almost certain that it was quite misplaced. “He is going to be so angry.” Draco’s very bones shuddered at the thought of the Dark Lord’s wrath. He had seen it enough times against others. He did not want it wielded against him. “I have nothing to report, no positive updates...my mother..." Draco felt himself choke at the words, shaking his head pitifully. The tears fell down his face slowly, not even able to be stopped by the Malfoy will not cry...ever. Then again...sometimes wills break, and he had been under quite the amount of stress lately.
He knew what would happen if he did not get positive feedback in the next couple of weeks. He did not need someone else to tell him, it was obvious enough. The Dark Lord had made it quite cler when he had given Draco the task in the first place. He held not ill-conceived illusions that it would be a pleasant punishment. At best, Draco would get let off with a couple of Crucio’s and that was it. He doubted that he would be given that scenario, it seemed a bit too tame for the Dark Lord’s interests. The man was a sadistic bastard. He was likely relishing the upcoming report that Draco was going to have to make, knowing that he was bound to fail.
The winter festivities were coming in two weeks, and he was supposed to return home...He would want an update, Draco just knew it, and if he had nothing good to say, no positive results...what was he supposed to do? His mother would probably be murdered, he would definitely be severely punished...Father...Father would never be released from Azkaban, and though Draco was not sure that was something he cared about all that much he knew the toll that it took on his mother. Even if he disliked Father...he could not put that before his mother's love for him.
"What..." Draco stopped his aloud musings suddenly, hearing the tale tell sound of something flying towards him. Not even registering that nothing should be flying towards him as nobody should be able to get into the room of requirement in the first place. Draco dropped to the floor...feeling damp water flood the front of his shirt and the sleeves of his robes. With no time to really process the fact that he, one, should not be feeling anything but the cold floor of cement or even stone which lined the floor of the Room of Requirement, and for two, his reflexes to things being thrown at him had gotten surprisingly sharp, he had clenched his eyes from the pain of having something cut his arm slightly. It was just a graze, but he heard a terrible screech from behind him that hand him scrambling up and whipping around, only to have him yelp in surprise, jumping backwards as he saw a gigantic spider with a slew of arrows sticking out of it. He felt his heart begin to race but his breaths came out only slightly faster than normal, his mind racing with calculations. "What in Merlin's name?" That was not normal. Beyond the fact that it was cold, and now he was wet courtesy of the floor, but living spiders? In the room of requirement? He supposed it was possible. If some stupid student had put the eggs in the room, they would eventually hatch. Yet, Draco had been in and out of the room for months. At this rate, the room was more his dorm than his actual dorms. Surely, he would have noticed gigantic spiders crawling around!
"Fall back!" A strong authoritative male voice stated and Draco found himself immediately doing what it said and falling back. Or rather...scrambling back. Inwardly cursing himself for such a natural response to authority, Draco did not manage to dwell on the concerning thought for too long. Just moments later, he saw another huge monstrous spider crawling over the corpse of its kin-from what Draco could tell it looked pissed...eight creepy beady eyes staring directly at Draco, leaving him stiff, but not unmovable. "Drop down!" Draco did as, presumably, he was ordered and fell to his knees, fingers laced over the back of his neck and head facing down to the ground as he heard a string of arrows fly over his head. He felt his breath catch. Why...in the name of merlin are there people with ARROWS! And why are there spiders? Draco did not have much time to think further about the strange circumstances, though he was certain that his mind would try and figure it all out later. as he felt himself yanked by a hand grabbing his elbow and dragging him forwards. Too stunned to speak Draco struggled, trying to pull his arm back but it proved rather difficult. Whoever had snatched him was quit estrong, and Draco found himself unable to yank his arm back. Dread began to curl through his body. This did not bode well at all. While he was no stranger to being yanked about lately, he did not find it amusing or enjoyable.
"Will you let me go!" He hissed the words coming out venomously. Fear shot through him just as quickly as he said that. What the hell is wrong with me? I am not in the Room; I could have been teleported anywhere. That stupid cabinet, I do not even know how it bloody works. I could very well be dragged along by one of His people. It was a concerning possibility and one that had come just a tad too late in Draco’s mind. He knew the Dark Marks had the ability to call Death Eaters, but he was not entirely sure how it worked. Draco had thought that it required apparation, hence why Severus had been able to return to the Dark Lord later than the others, but since Draco was underage, there was the chance that the Dark Lord did something different for him. Concerning his situation, he could very well be fucked given the fact that he had just basically ordered the other. He had no clue who it was. He had not even manage to turn to see who it was that was dragging him, awkwardly stumbling backwards trying to keep pace with the mystery person, because they held too tight a grip on his elbow, which was currently wrenched behind his back on top of being dragged, the mystery body right next to him. He could not just swing his own body around to be in line with him because this strange body was blocking it.
"Halt..." It was the same authoritative voice that had ordered Draco to fall back and duck. Draco dug his heels into the dirt, forcing the mystery person to grunt and finally release Draco's arm. He cradled it slightly, rubbing his shoulder, and then his elbow. Wincing slightly as he pressed his fingers into the flesh trying to massage the numbness away. Draco knew full well that there was going to be some rather major bruises. He had gotten quite good at figuring out at just what pressure bruises would mar his skin thanks to his father’s rather awful penchant for dragging him about like a ragdoll in the earlier years. That had only seemed to get worse with the Dark Lord’s return, though his cane had been more prevalent than his fingers.
He cut a dark glare towards the person who had drug him, some...overgrown...man? Goblin? No...dwarf or something. Draco had never seen them but he had read about them during the Wizarding History lessons. They existed, but just...rare. Full dwarves were rare, at least. From what he could remember they liked waging wars...or at the very least always seemed to be in one for some reason or another.
"Interesting." The voice stated, much softer this time, though the lace of command still flew through it. Draco cut his eyes away from glaring at the rock of a dwarf, and instead turned to the throng of people littering around the group of dwarves and... himself. He stiffened as he felt the authoritative voiced person level his blade at the base of his neck. Almost automatically, he lifted his head to bare it, and avoid getting cut by a sharp bit of steel. The scene was uncomfortably reminding him of his lessons with his Aunt Bella. That was not a memory lane he wanted to go down. Taking this chance, Draco turned his eyes to him, unable to stop himself from admiring his features.
The...teenager...maybe a bit older than a teenager, but no more than a young adult at best, had long blonde hair, though not the same shade of platinum blonde as his own or his father's, and startling blue eyes that seemed to pierce through his own shade of alarming gray. Draco felt his head lifted further by the flat end of the sword. What a sight I must look, watery gray eyes, strange robes, and...ugh. I am sodding wet. Draco supposed he doubted that they descriminated based off clothing given the state of the male and the glance of the clothes that the dwarf had been wearing. Though the male was better dressed than the Dwarf like man. He had forest green clothing, and brown trims around the shirt and tights, though his arm braces and boots were brown with gold tassels. It was quite fetching on him, not that Draco would ever admit such a thing aloud.
"A group of confounded dwarves, and a human boy." The humanoid stated. Or at least, Draco figured he probably was not human, not with the way he had stated human boy. If that was not an indication of not being human...Draco was not sure what exactly was. "You are Human...right?" Draco stiffened slightly, his eyes going just a tad bit wider. He did not speak, at least, tried not to. The moment the blade dug deeper into the sensitive flesh of his throat he caved. He had never claimed to be anything but weak and cowardly when it came to his own wellbeing, after all. Otherwise he would not be in this mess with the Dark Lord in the first place.
"Last I checked, I was...Human...that is." Draco admitted, internally wincing. Great job, Draco, what a wonderful job you did...sure convincing you were.
"Yes," The blue eyed humanoid stated, staring him down. "You are, but not entirely." Draco forcibly drew down his shoulders as he locked eyes with the other, neither quite breaking. "Search them. Remove all weapons from their person." Draco flinched slightly as another tawny haired...humanoid pat him down before sharing a confused look with what Draco assumed to be the leader. The person said...something, but Draco could not understand the words. They were uttered too quietly for him to make out. Blue-Eyes nodded once and the tawny elf backed down, whilst blue eyes lowered his weapon to Draco's sternum. At least it isn't pointed at your throat anymore, Draco, small victories. His father would be livid if he saw his precious heir reduced to such a standing. Though his mother...his mother would be grateful. Draco felt his throat catch and his eyes sting at the thought of his mother. He had no idea if this was some hallucination doused dream, but if it wasn't? His mother was doomed.
"What is a Dwarf, doing with elven swords?" The other's eyes were taken off him, instead drawn to one of the Dwarves, leaving Draco to sigh out almost imperceptibly.
"They were a gift." Came a gruff voice. A glance to the side left Draco knowing that it was a dark-haired, rather grungy-looking Dwarf. Not someone Draco would fare to be seen with in any capacity... though he thought it was too late for that. Not that he could be blamed, he had no idea that the person who yanked him about was with a group so...so...poverty stricken. His father would have a heart attack if he was here right now, and Draco would get a thorough lashing as well.
"Oh, I highly doubt that." The other said. "We’re going." He turned leaving Draco to utter a slight gasp as he was shoved forwards from behind. He almost tripped, but managed to get his feet under him in the last moment. Still, the rudeness was something that left him on edge. Despite how far his family had fallen, people tended to keep a cautious eye on him. He was a Malfoy and a Black after all, dangerous, as most would say.
This...was not going to end well...he could tell that already.
The group, barring Draco for some reason, was bound up tightly, and then they were lined up-something Draco was a part of-and were soon walking swiftly through the densely laden forest. Draco’s feelings of unease did not stop, merely getting worse and worse the longer they walked on. T
hey had been walking for a while, how long Dracowas not sure, but at least an hour or so if the glimpses of sun were any indication (he wished he could just cast a tempus but that was not going to be happening) and the entire time so far the overweight Dwarf tried to talk with him, but Draco leveled a dark glare towards him, which seemed to finally shut the other up quite suitably, only for another one of his stupid friends to start up.
He could not believe he was stuck in this bloody situation, and he did not even know what this situation was. It was an awful mix of some...stupid...dream. It had to be a dream. Draco did not know what he would do if it was not. He had no idea what was going on. A part of him just wished that he would wake up from some coma or something...whatever the muggles called that thing where your body was prone and unresponsive but your brain was still active. It was possible. Draco had overheard some muggleborns talking about how you could dream up entire lives that never happened when in coma. Apparently it was something the brain did to remain active or whatever, so it did not die or something. He was not aware of the details, and there had been no way Draco would speak to a muggle born about such things...not in a million years. Still, it would be better than that damn cabinet actually having transported him merlin only knows where. Perhaps a bit more believable too, though he had gotten a few small successes with the Cabinet, there had been nothing living walking through, the bird had merely died. Not to mention, even if that did work, he should have gone to Borgin and Burkes. Draco may not be entirely aware of where he was, but he knew for certain It was no Borgin and Burkes.
He went willingly enough when he got shoved into the rather...well...defined...cells. Honestly, they were a lot nicer than the Malfoy dungeons...and looking down a bit he could see how high they still were in this tree thing. He got the feeling these were some sort of wild veela or fae or something. Their living in the trees gave hints to what most of the wild veela tended to do, though Draco was not entirely sure they crafted platforms and such out of the branches. He had no idea how they had even managed to carve the stairs and rails into the tree. From what Draco had seen, they were alive, and still part of the tree. It was beautiful, but such a huge bit of magic left him shuddering inwardly.
They claimed themselves to be elves, or at least, that is what these idiotic dwarves called them. He still could not believe that some moronic dwarves really tried to venture into another kingdom without clearing it with the King first. He hardhead that brash bull-headed dwarf complaining about the king of this land. He personally thought that was a rather stupid thing to do, considering they were being taken to his dungeons, in his land, by his people. Still, he had not warned the other Dwarf off. It was bad enough he had them trying to talk to him, he definitely did not need to try and encourage conversation. Granted, he supposed he was kind...also at fault...but in his case he had not willingly or knowingly done so. He did not pay much attention, but apparently the others were a bit upset over this Thorin guy being dragged to speak with this elven king. Draco did not know, did not want to know, and he sure as hell was not going to play peacemaker between two feuding peoples. No way. He merely did his best to tune out the calls of the dwarves, and the ever so often question to himself.
It was going along fine enough until the leader of these morons got shoved into his cell. He rolled his eyes, pulling himself further into the corner and turning away from the dark haired moron. Truly, it was just his luck to get saddled with the man for the foreseeable future. The dwarf stared at him for a bit, but then turned his gaze out of the window. He glanced up, seeing that Elf on the other side of the place. The stairway that led to the dungeon was practically a hug espiral, and he was up towards the top, heading down. Draco doubted that meant anything good. As far as he could tell, this person was the one in charge of that little group. This Thorin narrowed his gaze darkly towards the Elf. He had no idea why, but there was something...distinctly familiar about him.
"How'd you get caught up here laddie?" Thorin asked, directing the question towards the companion in the cell, still not looking at him. Draco bristled slightly at the lack of respect afforded his person. The least this guy could do was be respectful.
"Don't call me 'laddie'." Draco stated simply. Thorin startled, finally turning to look at him. The accent was not from anywhere he knew. "For one, and for two, it is your lumbering bimbo of a companion that landed me in this mess by yanking me along with them." Draco stood, towering over the Dwarf, his gray eyes storm filled. Thorin felt himself go icy as he looked into unnatural eyes. "I want nothing to do with this mess. Nothing at all." Draco could not help but curse himself as he felt tears begin to fill his eyes once more. He turned away from the Dwarf once more, ignoring the startled sound that they gave him. It was bad enough he was crying, he certainly did not need anyone to see his shame. Malfoy’s do not cry. He reminded himself, though it did little to stop his tears. Yet I seem to be crying more and more as of late, it is embarrassing.
"Thorin...Thorin what happened with the King?" The other dwarves finally began to jump in, causing Draco to groan. Truly, what harm would it do for them to shut up for any moment whatsoever. The incessant chatter was making his head hurt.
"Bastard...as always. Won't let us go." Draco scoffed. Thorin turned his gaze back onto the strange half human. "Funny is that?" He questioned, his tone dark and filled with a sense of malice. Typically, Draco would back off. If this was his father, his aunt, his mother, or merlin forbid, the Dark Lord himself, he would have. Severus would not even have to speak; his eyes spoke a thousand words. This half creature was nothing like any of them, and so despite the trepidation that curved about his fingertips, Draco found himself speaking before he truly registered the words.
"No, I just find it rather stupid that you think you all can go traipsing through someone's territory with no prior warning, fully armed, when you obviously don't get along with them and somehow just expect them to let you go free. With no consequences." Draco stated stiffly. He turned to level another dark look at this dwarf. "Sort of stupid...don't you think?" Draco found himself not regretting the words, despite thinking that he would.
"We just want to get to the Mountain...that's all!" One of the nicer, cleaner swept dwarves hollered out.
"Perhaps, but that is not what it seems to King who, in the middle of sending a brigade out to presumably hunt those disgusting spiders that we saw, you know the ones the size of a bloody house, those to kill them, and destroy them, coming across a small band of non-allied dwarves, whom dislike their King, and were completely armed in elvish steel." Draco gave a hysterical laugh at that. The sound echoed across the dungeons, leaving several of the dwarves twisting uncomfortably. The sound was so similar to his Aunt Bella he cut it off quickly...unease flooding him. Am I truly going insane already? Or am I already crazy? "You really think they are going to think you come in peace? When you obviously have some sort of mutual hatred going on, and you just happen to be armed with elvish weapons, from elves, and think that they just...what...believe you are not going to try and infiltrate or something? Sounds to me this King clearly is thinking straight, whereas you all were idiots."
"On their side are you laddie?" Thorin questioned. Draco felt the shadow of the dwarf cascade over him. Despite knowing that he was most likely safe, and that the worst the other could do was probably beat him, which he doubted would be a more painful experience than the beatings he had already gotten from his father before, or the cruciatus curse that the Dark Lord often employed, he could not help himself from shrinking back against the wall of the cell. Something about the threatening demeanor left Draco feeling uneased. Particularly since he did not have his wand, and he was particularly shite at hand-to-hand combat. Still, hiding his head in his knees he was unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes, hugging his knees to his chest. Gryffindors, I bet. The lot of them, they certainly have a gryffindor standard run of the mill stupidity going on. I would say they are almost on par with Potter for stupidity. "No. I don't even know what side either one of you has to do with anything. I do not know why you hate each other so much, what I do know is having a small band of armed enemies deep in your own territory, who just so happen to be armed with weapons from fallen soldiers of another elvish clan, probably didn't really give the whole 'I come in peace' vibes. I would have locked you up to. My father would have tortured the information out of you and my grandfather would have just murdered on sight, so really, I think this king, whoever he is, is going awfully light on you."
"He wants the jewels. Hidden in the palace." Thorin said simply, turning his gaze away from him. A somber atmosphere seemed to echo through the dwarves before Draco could not help but break it with his next words.
"Right...Okay...You really think he can't just...get them himself? I mean...Come on now."
"The door can only be opened by someone of Durin's bloodline." Draco blinked at that information; he could not see who it was that gave it but nodded merely once.
"Understandable. Even still...I doubt he merely wants them for no reason. What...did you or someone agree to give it to them, and then refuse or something?" Thorin's silence said enough. Draco rolled his eyes. Greedy bastards. Just like Goblins. No wonder, they are from similar blood anyway. Cousins maybe. Not quite sure.
“He does not deserve them,” Thorin growled, his posture even more threatening at his words. Draco just gave the other man a placating smile.
“Sure, sure,” He said lifting his hands to try and ease the sudden anger. He did not want to deal with broken bones, especially left to heal the muggle way.
"King Thraduil wishes to speak with you." Draco jolted up as the authoritarian voice returned. He stared at them and pointed towards himself. A slight nod gave him what he wanted.
"Great, wonderful." He shoved his way past the dwarf, trying to get away as soon as possible. Sure, he was going to be put back into the cell soon enough, and deal with the fallout of his behavior later, but he could handle that when the time came. As of now, the time had not come.
"Hey...put in a good word for us...if you would." Thorin spoke up, and Draco could not help but stop and stare at the audacity of this person. Surely, he jests?
"No. No, I will not put in a good word for you. I don't even know you. Furthermore, you are brash, impulsive, and idiotic. What sort of moron leads his people into the middle of the lands of someone else, someone they know they don't have a good relationship with, and just expects the king of that land to let them go out of what...goodness of their heart? You are stupid. Not to mention half the time I have known you all you do is threaten me or goad me into giving you what you want to hear, unwilling to even contemplate the other side of things. Arrogant, self-centered, maybe, I don't know but what I do know is that will get you killed...soon enough, or...it will kill those who care for you...think on that and do with it what you will." Draco hissed, tears beginning to fill his eyes once more. Like father.
Draco strode himself stiffly through the halls, right behind the Elf. Who graciously did not call him out on his outburst moments ago, nor the tears that stung his eyes which Draco had spent the better part of a minute trying to dry. He was not bound, nor was there guard accompanying this Elf in taking him to this King. Either these people were horribly stupid, or they were more than confident in this Elf's ability to keep him secure. He would bet the latter given how things had gone so far. He doubted that the Elves were that under cautious. Not with how this King seemed to be, though Draco still felt he was being a tad bit too lenient for a group of known enemies flouncing in with Elvish made weapons deep within Elvish territory. Honestly, Draco had no idea what these idiotic Dwarves were thinking. It was a bad plan at the best of times, and with two kingdoms' not pissed off at each other.
"Stop," Draco felt his body halt before his brain quite registered the command. This was getting bad...quite bad. Have I spent too much time in close quarters with Him? My mind seems to be following orders so quickly, and it is rather startling. He must have something to do with it, of that I am certain. Draco did not have enough time to react to his thoughts as he was jolted out of them by the Elf continuing forwards.
Wait, is this some sort of test? Draco thought his eyes getting wide as he noted the Elf did not stop. Am I supposed to follow him? Or remain true to the Order to stay still? If I do, will I be punished for disobeying such an order? Sure, this Elf is someone of an infiltration brigade, but he was obviously very well thought of, and highly respected. Especially since he was the one who has been handling prisoners. At that moment, the Elf stopped and turned to look at him, a slight furrow to his brows conveying the confusion that he was feeling. "Come along now," Draco rushed forwards, as though the words were some sort of counter to the previous curse. I need to do a full body assessment. Particularly on my magic. It gave him no comfort, but he also knew that his responses to these commands were concerning. He was not sure if they were using some sort of enthrallment charm on him. Veela were known to have such things, and the mystical Fae were believed to-but no one could get close enough to actually confirm if it was so. The sooner he figured out what was going on, the better. Perhaps it was some residual magic from the Mark? Draco did not feel it burn, but he had not felt it burn when he got teleported somehow either.
They began a sharp ascent upwards, leaving Draco stumbling slightly, but managing to catch his feet just barely. What would Father think of me should he see me like this? Drabbed in shabby, soaking wet robes, long unkempt hair, dull eyes, and bruises everywhere? Stumbling? I would sooner be whipped. Draco knew that the thought would bring him no comfort, no thoughts of his father ever did, but as per the norm when thinking of what his father would do should he hear or notice some of the things that Draco did, it aided him a bit. His stumbling became next to nonexistent, and though there was little that he could do about his appearance, Draco could find some comfort in the fact that it would be one less thing he would have to worry about being beaten for. Not that Father would believe me, but who knows what either he or Him will do if I manage to return. He will read my mind. Father may try, but who knows, and I suppose no chances should be taken.
"Stop," The voice called, as though through some sort of long tunnel. Draco stopped but had to shake his head slightly to clear the light daze that he felt. It was like that lately when he got lost in his own thoughts. He had always done such, but it had gotten worse in the last couple of years with the Dark Lord's return. He looked up at the Elf, who was watching him carefully. "Beyond here, the King awaits to question you." Draco grit his teeth, barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "I would highly suggest," He felt himself tense up as the Elf got extremely close to him, fingers trailing from his hairline, down the side of his temple, resting slightly on where his cheekbones rested just under his eye sockets, and then continuing further down the side of his cheek, the length of his jaw, before resting lightly on his neck. "You try desperately not to anger him." The Elf tilted his head sharply, blue eyes gleaming. "He has quite the temper," Was all he said, hand snatching back to grab him by the arm and pull him forwards. He does? Looks like someone has got something in common with their King. He was not shoved to his knees, but it was a near thing once they ascending to the raised platform. Upon which, there was yet another raised platform which held an expertly crafted wooden throne. Draco let his eyes trail from the hem of the glittering silver robes up to the delicate design of maple leaves crafted in what looked to be ebony veins and up further hitting the King's startling blue eyes, leaving Draco to inhale sharply, though silently, and up further to the crest of leaves and berries that made what Draco assumed was an autumn's crown. It was clearly of expensive craft, and Draco was no stranger to well spun garments. Then again, only the best for the King, right?
"And this is the half human boy that you found with that group...was it?" The King's voice was surprisingly gentle with the Guard. It almost made Draco jealous of the classically cold tone his Father always took with him.
"Yes," The word was simple, lilted out with care but polite respect. The King stood, slowly descending his throne leaving Draco stiff and tense, but unable to quite move.He knew btetter than to try such a thing. It would be seen as a challenge, which was not something he needed to accidently provoke.
"I see, quite interesting, to find a hybrid among these lands." Draco did not respond. It was goading, he knew, though the voice remained soft in volume. "And what exactly, pray tell, was such an interesting creature as you doing with such a drab group?" The words turned frosty once he began to speak of those dwarves. Draco stared at the King with minute amounts of disbelief. They think I went willingly with...oh...oh wait. A plan started to emerge from Draco's mind. He could use this. He could definitely use this. If they think I was not willingly aiding them...I may manage to escape punishment, whatever that may be. They do not think I went with them entirely willingly already; else they would not have separated me from them. Or at least, Draco was hoping that was the case. It was a risky endeavor but one that he had that he could use. Of course, it would mean condemning those dwarves...but it was in his best interest. He had not asked them to try and come to his rescue, and it was because of them dragging him along that he was thought to be part of their stupid group anyway. He was a Slytherin after all, and one with no ties to those idiots. As such, he did not much care what happened to them if it kept him from death.
He kept his head bowed, and said nothing, he should not just come crying about being kidnapped after all, that was a bad idea. He was not stupid. Gryffindors may have done that, but Draco was not a Gryffindor, and the Malfoy specialty was spy work and subtle manipulation with a dash of acting, as with most high and noble houses among Slytherin. He knew the dos and don't and had seen his Father work a room of people enough times to know claims said nothing, in the grand scheme of things.
So, he said nothing, made no claims, merely let his fingers dig into his palms as he stared towards the floor, averting his eyes from the King, and, slightly, baring the side of his neck. Amongst most magical folk, ancient magic folk that was, though they would not be able to explain why, the baring of the neck was always, or well, almost always that is, considered subservient submissiveness. It calmed angry individuals, typically, and pleased nobles and kings. It still worked, and Draco was known to use such tactics to calm his Father when he got particularly volatile. The trick, however, rarely worked with full humans, though Pureblood Humans tended to still react towards it. Perhaps some research should be done as to why, though Draco doubted most were consciously aware of it.
The King was watching him closely, as was this Guard of his. "Not going to answer? Perhaps..." Draco flinched as he felt fingers descend on his shoulder, curling his body up and letting his tears flood his eyes. Typically, he would force them back, and make his shoulders relax so quickly that others would second guess his reaction and merely assume he did not like people touching him-preferring to extend the contact himself as he would usually hold his hand for a shake moments later, but this was a different situation from normal. He waited a moment or two, before forcibly relaxing his shoulders, exhaling softly, but shakily.
Yes, this was his own plan, but this King was still horrifically dangerous and as such, it made it a bit more difficult to control himself, therefore his instinctual reactions were a bit too...raw. Like with Him. Like with Father. Draco could feel the magic from the other thrumming under his skin, could practically taste it when the King touched his shoulder. It was overwhelming, and though the magic was not dark and cloying as with the Dark Lord, nor was it sly and all-consuming like his Father's, it was still quite a bit for him.
"Interesting," The words were spoken softly, gently, and with no malice this time, which rather surprised Draco. He huffed a breath of relief when the King released his shoulder, unable to quite steady his breathing as quickly as he would prefer. He knew that the Elf behind him noticed. Noticed his weakness, and difficulty-he moved to stand closer behind Draco, likely to catch him should he fall. "Tell me," Draco kept his gaze trained on the floor, but his body straightened slightly, noting the King's words. "What were you doing with them?" Draco continued to keep his mouth closed, not wanting to speak now, and not even sure he could if he did want to. The magic had left his head slightly dizzy, and his throat horribly dry.
He felt the commotion, before he saw it, readying himself as he felt his feet kicked from under him, slamming down on his knees. He prepared for impact that did not come, glancing unsteadily at first towards the Elvin Guard and then towards the King. The Guard stood hovering above and beside him but did not do anything more; the King stood in front of him, head tilted slightly. It reminded him distantly of what the Guard had done previously. "I shall repeat my question once more, what were you doing with the Dwarves?" Draco felt his nerves break slightly as the Guard placed his own hand on his shoulder.
Draco felt his body react, his face twisting in a slightly painful grimace outside of his control, but he returned to neutral quickly, feeling himself stiffen. It was too late, as it were, considering the King had already seen, and moved forwards, gesturing to the Guard to take his hand off. While he was grateful for the brief reprieve, he was not sure he was going to like what was going to come afterwards.
"You can talk...correct?" The King questioned; his head still tilted slightly before narrowing his eyes at him. He bent down and practically loomed over him, causing Draco to panic almost immediately and scramble backwards into the Guard's legs, which had been braced on his sides. His body was shaking as he refused to let his eyes leave contact with the King's. His own were wide and terrified, with a mix of worry, whilst the King's merely conveyed expectation, and curiosity, perhaps just a hint of amusement as well. It was lucky they were a cold and icy blue; not brown, else Draco would be far worse off considering they would be the same color as His.
"He can, yes, I heard him speak whilst in the cells." The King slowly took his eyes off Draco to meet what Draco presumed were the eyes of the Guard. Draco, whilst thankful for the interference, almost wished, for the Guard's sake, that he had not said anything. This King was obviously quite dangerous, and it was clear that he was not pleased at being interrupted. Reminds me of someone. Draco thought to himself. Neither his Father nor the Dark Lord cared for being cut off or being spoken to by others that they had not allowed. It was dangerous to do so, and as a general rule, it was best to simply obey before questioning. Else wise...well, Draco would know as he had both witnessed, and been a part of those punished. Luckily, the Dark Lord had never needed to punish him for such things. The other had a dark penchant for the Cruciatus curse, and Draco had already felt the effects of such a thing and wished to avoid them as much as possible.
"I do not believe that I was speaking to you, was I?" The King questioned, to Draco’s surprise his voice was still soft, almost gentle, though there was a hint of scolding underneath.
"No," The words were slightly clipped, but still subdued. Draco tensed slightly. Two people with dominant personalities going at each other? Not a good thing, especially considering Draco was quite literally caught between the two. He knew that he was going to have to do something if he wished to avoid the inevitable fallout of these two. He did not want to, but a part of him also shivered in worry for the Guard. Going up against your King? That was...that was dangerous. Extremely dangerous, and Draco was having a challenging time understanding just why or how this person dared.
"I..." Draco's one word managed to get their attention, as he expected, and he began coughing vigorously, fingers pressing against his throat as he tilted to the side, away from both the King and the Prince and curling his head into his knees, as he had planned. Sure. The guard had heard him speak in the cell, but from a lack of food, lack of water, the strange magic that the King had trapped beneath his flesh, and his emotions fraying at the seams, it was understandable that he would be thirsty. Which would, of course, lead to the question of whether he was drinking or eating enough...the answer to both was no.
He was not...it was dangerous, he knew, but even still. He had been so stressed and so preoccupied with His task that trying to do anything else when he had the choice not to seemed like wasting time. So, Draco was dangerously underweight, he knew but would not stop it. Severus had even intervened at some point. Not that it had worked. Draco had far more things to worry about than making sure he ate every day, or even kept up appearances. He knew that it had drawn Potter’s suspicions, but the annoying Gryffindor would find fault with anything he did.
"Guard!" The King ordered, and Draco heard a set of light footfalls entering the area. He was surprised that the Guard behind him was not doing.... anything. He had not even stiffened slightly, which left Draco to wonder if he was considered something else, like Captain or something.
"Yes, your Majesty?" an unfamiliar voice questioned. It was coming from behind the Elf that he was still leaning against. He made no motion to move, and the Elf did not try and remove him either.
"Get me some water, and perhaps some grapes, if you would, and bring them to me." The Guard, after what Draco presumed was a bow, left to do just that. Bowing was custom to royalty, after all.
None of them spoke during this time. Draco merely allowed his breathing to stay heavy, knowing it would aid him in his act. Typically, around others he would force his breathing to adjust to smaller breaths so that it was not noticeable how difficult it was to breathe. This was not normal though, and Draco felt he was going to have to continue to remind himself of that.
"Here you are, My Lord," the King stood, Draco noticed from the rustling of fabric, before kneeling once more. He felt a hand in his hair, and Draco could not help but let out an exceedingly small, almost inaudible, whimper, before gnashing on his lip violently to silence himself. The hand, which had entwined their fingers around the back of his head, his hair falling between their fingers effortlessly, gently pulled his head back and Draco closed his eyes tightly. Nothing happened, however. Nothing was curled around his throat, his breathing was not restricted, and he was not slapped, beat, or kicked. What happened was a metal sting hit his lips, and after an understandable flinch, he felt water tip into his mouth.
It broke all his restraint. He opened his mouth to hastily drink the water provided, and when the metal was brought away from him, his eyes flew open, terror and sadness toying with each other as his fingers desperately grabbed the metal cup. The King willingly allowed him to pull his hand back to his lips as he desperately drank everything in the cup within moments. It was after he was done that his decorum came back to him and he gasped, jerking his arms away from the King and back into his body, a stuttered apology on his lips.
I was so stupid, touching the King like that. He would put me under for at least several seconds for daring...and that was if I were lucky. Draco was, surprisingly enough, not punished, not beaten, at least not yet, but he worried. Such things did not always happen right away. Presuming what I told to this Thorin fellow was heard by the Guard, I could chalk it up to lashing out, finally, a feeling of ridiculous safety, knowing that Thorin would not dare to do anything untoward until he was allowed freedom. It should not be hard to make them think that.
"I... I apologize, my...my..." Draco shook his head. "I should not have dared to be so bold, I s-swear that I am not, normally, I do not know w-what came over me for such actions, I did not intend...That is..." Draco was allowed to slightly stutter over himself until then, before the King placed a finger to his lips and silently hushed him, leaving Draco to fall silent immediately. His fingers gripped one of the grapes that had been brought to them, before holding it out for Draco. Draco's eyes widened. The King wants to...feed me? Is this another test? What should happen if I do, or if I do not... He stared at the King, and then glanced at the Guard behind him, his mouth opening before he remembered the command to stay silent and his shoulders dropping in despair that he could not even ask. He stared at the King, helplessly lost. He did not want to potentially anger them more. Draco could still feel their magic curling under their skin, just below the surface. They were powerful...enormously powerful.
"I believe he requires more...specific instruction for that..." The Guard stated softly, Thranduil glancing up at them before humming softly to himself.
"Allow me," The King ordered simply, and Draco sighed softly, and let the King place the grape in his mouth, though he did not eat it, worry still curling in him. The Dark Lord had done something like this once when he had caught Draco, and they were by themselves. He had gotten viciously punished for not obeying directions after he swallowed the fruit before being told to do so, and as such, Draco did not intend to make the same mistake this time. It would seem that the King noted this and nodded once. "You may eat it immediately after I give it to you." The words left the King's mouth, relief flooding him in a rush of gratefulness. He bit down and swallowed; his eyes drifting shut briefly as he did so.
The King did not hesitate to place more after Draco swallowed the first, and continued to do so until the plate was cleared of grapes. Calling the Guard back in to take the empty wares before dismissing them once more, the King pressed himself upwards.
"T-Thank you," Draco said simply, his head bowed softly. "F-For your kindness. I appreciate it."
"I presumed that you would." The King stated simply, as though he had already known. Draco would not hesitate to believe that. "You seemed quite parched, and you are obviously not eating well." Draco winced slightly at that. The reprimand reminded him of his mother's own form of them. It stung less than it would have had she been the one to say it, but stung, nonetheless.
"What did you hear him tell the Dwarf, Legolas," The King questioned. Draco perked up slightly. The Guard's name was Legolas. It was...an interesting name. Not one that Draco had ever heard before, but pretty.
"It was right before I told him to come to me," They dutifully replied almost immediately. "I was standing across from the door, when this one stated that it had been stupid of them to venture into another's Kingdom without informing the King of said Kingdom and armed with our weapons and that he had known his family to do far worse...in more or less words. The...Mountain's Dwarf, then asked if it was possible for him to put a good word in, after I called for him to come with me. He stated that he would in no such terms do a thing like that, and that he felt the other was an idiot for asking him to do so and felt as though the situation that the Dwarves found themselves in to be justified."
Draco... He did say that, and that is what he was feeling and meant, but those were not his exact words. Although, he had no idea how much the other had overheard, and even then, did not think that the other was missing anything important. He also did not really think that they wanted his exact words. The King wanted a quick oversight of what was at least a good ten-minute-long situation with all the key details of the interaction. In which case, this Legolas did admirably.
"I see," Thranduil stated, his eyes boring into Draco's own. "Stand him up." The Guard did as asked, much more carefully this time. Though his grip had always been harsh, it had not been hard enough to bruise him, not like that stupid dwarf. The Guard kept a light hold on his arms, this time, though, and Draco found himself able to remain steady on his feet far easier now than before. Thranduil moved before him once more, his eyes continuing to stare at him. "What happened to you, I wonder." it was not a question, and therefore Draco did not answer, merely allowed his teeth to dig into his tongue until he tasted salty iron in his mouth. The guard returned, and Thranduil went over to him again, the words spoken hushed, but Draco could not make them out, and he was not sure if he wanted to anyways. "Legolas," The word was sharp on the King's tongue. "Remove his...travelling cloak and shirt. I wish to see what injuries mar his flesh."
If it were not the conclusion that Draco had fully intended for the King to come to, he would have been quite angry with himself for letting the King notice his pain. As it were, it was still terrifying to think that the King managed to notice his subtle ticks so effortlessly. It would have been difficult to catch them all anyways, let alone how easily it was that the King managed to do so. Draco had wondered briefly if he was being just a little bit too subtle, but for some reason Draco had the feeling that the King had known that he had some injuries upon their first few minutes of meeting. It was...disconcerting to him. His feelings of being in control spiraled, but he had no time or the ability to dwell on his emotions. There were other more important things to concern himself with, there usually were. This time, it was the assessing gaze that the King was giving his school crest on his robes. Next time it would be something different, but there was always something that Draco had to focus on in the immediate time, rather than allowed things to go off track. He tried not to let his emotions get the better of him the majority of the time.
The King pressed his fingers to the crest, nails scratching the grip of the fabric. Pale blue eyes were watching him, the Guard, or whatever he was, and the King both, but the King was more pressed with the crest that he had on his robes and had even paused his orders to Legolas so that he was able to assess the crest properly. Draco was not sure what was so fascinating about it, but then again, Slytherin had always been quite the house, and Draco had always been proud to be a Slytherin, and always would be no matter what damage his house did nor the shots to reputation that they received. Not to mention half of the unfair reputation was shoved on them by bigots like Potter, Weasley, and Dumbledore. This was before the whole first war, so the war merely worsened an already damaging reputation.
"What is this?" Draco was questioned by the King, the voice of the latter soft in nature in his inquiry to him. Draco was surprised by the gentleness of the tone, as though the King noted that the crest was important in some way. Then again, considering Draco wore it on the outside of his robes, it was clearly important to him. Though it was a school uniform, and Draco had no say in the matter, something the King did not know then, and it did not matter at the end of the day anyway. "Some sort of familial crest?" Draco shook his head hastily. I need to specify quickly; it would not do to have the King look for some sort of family with this crest. Especially since I have no information on the people of this place. If there is a family with this crest, I do not know what their reputation would be, and I have no history of either. Furthermore, his family crest was a dragon. A serpentine dragon, and it was something Draco was quite proud of.
"No, it is my school faction." Draco said in way of an answer. The King glanced up towards him before humming softly, a curious glint in his eyes now as he gazed through him. It was unnerving. Draco wondered if this was how people felt when he gave the same stare, or when it was his father who did so.
"School faction? How many factions are within this school of yours?" The question was innocent enough, but Draco felt as though there was more to this line of questioning, though for whatever reason he could not figure out what it was that the King would want with this information. It was not as though it was important, or even valuable. It would not get him anywhere, and beyond that, Draco doubted that these people even heard of his school, let alone knew anything about its politics.
"Four, total." The answer was innocent enough and Draco did not see a reason not to answer, particularly when not answering would incur the wrath of not only the Guard that was still standing beside him, but also the King himself, either of which would be a rather dangerous situation that Draco would prefer to avoid if possible. He could not tell what the King would do if Draco angered him, and as such it would be best to avoid angering him at all. In that way, he would not have to worry about dealing with fallout. At least, not one that would put him in severe danger.
"I see, and this one is called..." The King’s voice trailed off, giving Draco the chance to answer, one which Draco was not foolish enough to ignore.
"Slytherin," The words were effortless on Draco's tongue, though he knew that the King was not asking just for his own house. The letters were printed beneath the mascot in elegant scrawl. It would be easy enough to figure out what his own school faction was called, and Draco could tell well enough that this King and the Guard-in the least-were curious in nature. "The other three would be Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and... Gryffindor." Draco tried but could not stop the hiss at the last house he listed. His dislike of Gryffindors was infectious in nature and breathed through his being. He did not approve of many things Gryffindors did, and although he could not say that his own house was much better-much less himself-he had traits that he valued far more than most. Gryffindors, in his head, were stupid and brash and mostly, had their priorities all skewed.
"And how exactly does one get chosen for a specific faction?" The King questioned; his head tilted slightly. Draco felt a fissure of unease at the sight. He had to say that the interest that the King took in this made him uneasy. He was not sure why, but it was something he also could not shove off. Then again, he suspected anything that this King did would make him feel uneasy. The power that he held was no joke.
"Mostly by assessing our core values and determining which would be best suited for each other. Does this have any bearing on anything?" Draco dared to question, ensuring to keep his tone light and curious. The King, seeming to come back to himself, merely gave him a smirk and shook his head.
"No, I was just...curious." Draco gave a tense smile, but the King did not ask more questions regarding it, merely tilting his head towards Legolas in what Draco assumed to be the order to remove his outer robes. He tensed as it was done but did not fight or question it. What more could he do? He had no idea what he was up against, and until he knew that it was highly unwise to try and fight anything these people did.
Draco felt fingers around his left arm and gasped in pain, ripping it away from the King and holding it close to his chest, tears still stinging his eyes. His body began to shake as he did so, fear flooding him. Does it even work here? What if He comes and finds that I have been failing in my duty, what will happen to mother? To me? Whose side would these people take, and would they even care? It does not matter. Should the Dark Lord come I know how things will go, and it will not be pretty. I just...I do not want...
"What is that?" The gentle tone was gone, now, and the King’s voice was sharp and questioning. Draco shook his head, not wanting to answer; honestly, he was not even sure he could answer. The King, however, and Draco knew that it would happen, did not like his lack of an answer. Rather than asking again he merely grabbed Draco's arm roughly and yanked it towards him, ripping up the cloth that covered his arm, displaying the marking. "Who gave this to you?" Draco felt tears begin to fall down his eyes.
He hissed, anger, hate and fear all brought together in one. He was upset, understandable, and he was scared, even more so than anything else he was simply...scared. He had no idea who he was with, where he was, and though he had a suspicion about how he got here it was so far-fetched Draco really did not know what to do.
"It looks painful," The King muttered under his breath, and Draco whined unbidden when the other pressed his fingers against it. "Fresh, too," He muttered under his breath. Draco knew what he was thinking and did nothing to stop the thought process from occurring, merely shutting his mouth and trembling as the King finally released his arm, leaving Draco to tuck it protectively close to his chest. He yelped softly when he felt the buttons of his shirt slowly being undone, the Guard had moved, and Draco had spaced out long enough that he had not even noticed it. The pause that the King had ordered had finally ended, and Draco felt his heart jackrabbit in his chest.
"Stay calm," Came the soft voice from behind him, much different from the strong and authoritative voice that he had held earlier. The tone was leading Draco into a sort of...almost false sense of security. He was not sure where he had gotten so weak, but it was not surprising considering how weak he had been as of late.
Still, try as he might to calm and to listen to the Guard, Legolas, he was not able to ignore the fingers releasing his shirt from his body. It was more difficult than he remembered it being with...with him. It was because he had already been traumatized and now, he was suffering the effects of that. Maybe it was something else, he was not entirely sure. It was bound to be difficult anyway. Surely something like this was normally difficult? At least, that was what he hoped. Elsewise he was far more broken than he had thought he would be. Though perhaps that was just...part of the inevitability. He found he was not the most eager to find out.
Once the shirt was finally taken off and Legolas having folded it and placed it over his arm as he had with his cloak, Draco shivered slightly. It was not that he was cold, per say, but more due to the sheer discomfort that he currently felt. He knew that it was simply something more that he would endure, as he was more than aware of his ability to handle such things, it was just highly frustrating. He felt so...horribly exposed. Vulnerable. Not that such a feeling was new, at least not anymore. He had always felt like that around his father, but upon His return, Draco had found himself feeling increasingly helpless at everything.
He shuddered as he felt the King's fingers trace the bruises marring his wrists, and then the lacerations that Draco had yet to heal over his collarbones. He could have healed them easily enough, had been able to for the last few weeks, but Draco also was aware that it was dangerous to do things that the Dark Lord could find out, and would be displeased with. Furthermore, he really did not have time. He had been so focused on the cabinet. It was hard enough trying to figure out how to do anything, and he really found it difficult to...express his frustrations. Everything slowly had been closing in around and so simple things like healing wounds had not really occurred to him.
"Here," The King handed Legolas a slot of emerald fabric, a cloak, which the guard dutifully placed on him. Draco was quite grateful for the respite the King was giving him but found himself wary of it. Why not just return my robes? He thought to himself. He hoped that they would let him keep them. He was quite fond of his school robes, and his father had spent no expense to ensure the quality.
Still, he made no word of his unease that he had not been returned his own garments, and hurriedly pulled the clasps of the cloak he had been given shut, fingers continuing to clutch it closed, his body trembling. He stared up at Legolas and the King, not sure what else was going to be asked of him, or demanded, before he was placed back in the cells. The King stared at him, leaving Draco to cinch the fabric he had been given from just how tightly that he was entwining it between his fingers. The discomfort he felt was real, and he had no idea what to do with it, only that the most he could do was wait. "Legolas, take him to the healers, stay with him, and send a messenger once the report is finished."
"Anything else you request?" The Guard asked.
"Yes, send someone to bring me those dwarves one by one, I have questions."
“Yes, my Lord,” The Guard said respectfully, inclining his head slightly towards the King. Draco watched everything from his position under his lashes. Interestingly enough, the Guard did not bow as deeply, though perhaps that was because he held a higher station than Draco knew...To be honest, he was only suspecting what was normal here. He could be entirely off base too.
The Guard held his shoulder as he steered him out of the throne platform. Draco was still shaking slightly from the situation. It had been quite intense. He had no clue what else could be done about that and was too nervous to hold anything but hold the robe closed tightly with his fists. For some reason, his emotions were all over the place. He did not know if that was a good thing, but he doubted it would remain that way. Emotions were unpredictable, and the last thing he needed was that.
He followed Legolas, not wanting to disregard a Guard in charge of his care. It was clear enough considering how the King had dismissed them. Furthermore, if this were anything like at home-though things had already proved to be significantly different, Draco knew he could not allow himself to be lured into ease-that meant that releasing his care to Legolas meant the same as releasing punishments as well. Draco did not want to find out how the other would punish him and would prefer to merely mitigate that factor if possible.
Draco felt his body pushed sharply to the left suddenly, before they began making another long descent down sketchy stairwells, though it was a good thing that Draco was well acquainted with unnerving stairwells. The Manor alone had enough of those. Hogwarts had even more, and those stairwells moved consistently. Draco would say the Manor contended for the sketchiest after the Dark Lord entered his home, though.
"Madam, I have brought a... patient, which the King requests be seen to immediately." The Elf Guard stated immediately after they entered a quaint little room. Well, Draco says little, if he had to assess it, he thinks it would be in comparable size to perhaps Hogwart's infirmary ward, or even his family's dining room. It was large, and spacious, though he had to say as far as infirmaries went, this was one of the better ones that he had seen outside of St. Mungos. The beds were neatly pulled to the edges of both walls, with a small table on one side that had several drawers under it, though Draco would hesitate to call it a dresser. It was bathed in rich mahogany and oak hues, which left Draco grateful. He hated the harsh sights of bright white lights hitting his eyes. It hurt far more than anything else and was quite annoying to wake up to.
"This one, the King wants assessed?" She questioned, tilting her head at the Guard. Draco wondered why. Perhaps the King did not readily ask for people to be assessed. He had no reason to believe otherwise, and the disbelief was clear enough to him. Not that it mattered. One way or another he was going to be poked and prodded. Besides being invasive physically, nurses always tended to ask the worst possible questions, and bordered on indecent in the way that they asked them.
"Yes, as soon as possible, preferably, and you may as well get Rimedur to see to him, as I will need you to please send fetch me a guard." The she-elf bowed to the Guard before scampering by the two of them and out the door. Draco felt himself nervously twitch his fingertips as he was left alone with the intimidating elf. He licked his lips nervously, but elsewise remained silent. Silence was always better when one was not entirely certain what to say, or to do.
"Sit," The Guard ordered, moving him forwards and pressing down on his shoulders to push him into sitting down on one of the beds. Draco sat listlessly and stared at his knees. This whole situation had gone better than what he had presumed, but it was spiraling out of his control quickly, something which unnerved him. He knew that his control in this situation would be tentative at best, but it still made him nervous.
The Guard stared at him. Draco felt this uncomfortable shiver roll up his spine and averted his gaze quickly, fingers gripping the robes closed more tightly as his nerves got the best of him. The Guard seemed to sigh softly, as though understanding and sympathizing with his worries and anxieties. Do not let it get to your head Draco! the Slytherin reprimanded himself. It meant he was placing emotions towards a being that he had no knowledge of understanding, so it would be a mistake to presume that he felt sympathy or worry for him. Particularly when it could just as easily be some sort of hoax. "You are nervous of me?" The Guard questioned. Draco swallowed, but did not answer, which he knew was an answer enough for the Guard who merely sighed once more, seemingly put upon. "I am not going to harm you, if that is your fear." Draco narrowed his eyes slightly but did not contradict that he did worry of such a thing.
He knew that he could take care of himself, his family was not remiss in his sword fighting capabilities, but that had also been a long time, and he was quite out of practice by at least a year and a half going on two years now. Furthermore, his magic, which he could feel lingering under his skin still (small mercies at least) was more than likely not able to aid him this time. He knew wandless magic, and nonverbal magic, at least to some extent, but he was not exactly the most adept at it. Severus was far more able to handle his magic as such, so was Him. Even his father had some knowledge beyond Draco of nonverbal and wandless spells. Perhaps he was being harsh on himself, considering all had far more time to practice it, but even still...the point remained that his magic was unlikely to be of much use to him now, given his lack luster capabilities in both nonverbal and wandless magic. He did not want to risk relying on it, which left him far more vulnerable than anything else.
He was basically useless and practically completely defenseless. Not that it was going to change anything, he knew. He was simply not going to roll over and allow himself to be so...horridly defenseless. He would have something, if nothing else, and that was his words and his mind, which was more than others would have in the same situation, so he should count himself rather lucky. Still, it was not enough to make him at ease in the complicated scenario he found himself in. At the very least, he was not dead. Which is something that could have easily happened, if not by the Dwarves, then by these Elves, specifically that King, and if not by them than by the arrows that the Elves had used to fend off those spiders, and if not by those, then by the spiders themselves. He had only been in this strange area for not even a day yet, and it seemed like the place was determined to try and kill him. At least something I am used to. He thought with a wry sounding tone.
"How long were you with the Dwarven company?" Legolas questioned; Draco shook his head. Great.
"I don't know," Which was true, just not the...entire truth. He truly had no idea how long he had been forced to suffer in their company. He knew that it had been less than a day, more than like, but he was not sure of the specifics.
"You needn't speak further," The Guard stated once more hastily. "I fear I have caused you some distress. That was not my intention," Draco pressed his lips together tightly but did not say anything. He highly doubted that was not the reason he asked, but it was irrelevant he supposed. He had no way to know that, and he figured it would be best to simply let the subject go. "Know this, the King does have your best thought at heart, and I know that it may seem otherwise at times, but I do not believe he is going to allow you to simply continue in the company of those Dwarves." Draco just gave the other a tight smile, not really knowing what else to do, or to say.
"Legolas?" The word was phrased as a question and they both turned to see a long brown-haired elf standing in the doorway.
"Rimedur," the guard stated, no small amount of relief in his voice. Draco supposed he was not used to speaking conversationally with people...or maybe Draco was making him nervous, though he could not understand why. It was not as though he was much of a threat. If he had ease of use of his magic, this would be a different situation. As it were, Draco was left quite defenseless.
"My Prince," The other hastily bowed on one knee, and left Draco's eyes widening and his body shifting backwards hastily. Prince? Prince???