dragons » d.m [1]

xvii

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
U N D Y I N G

GAZING DOWN AT THE GARDENS, SHE LET THE NOCTURNAL BREEZE blow stroke her face. The ball was still going on, yet here there she stood in the balcony, with a drink in her hand.

She heard the sliding doors slowly open, hence she ignored it.

"A lovely night, isn't it?" Someone spoke up, an unfamiliar voice with an odd accent.

She turned around to face the man. Seeing his appearance surprised her: his slender figure was similar to a skeleton; his skin had a purple tint resembling the flesh of a corpse and his eyes were dull, as if all the life had been drained from them.

"It is indeed," she politely replied, placing her cup on the table.

"Pyat Pree," he bowed, "you must be (Y/n) Targaryen," he added, with a smile creeping on his face.

"Nice to meet you..." She told herself she should go now.

"Would you care to walk your poor old man to the gardens?" He asked. "You seem more familiarised with the surroundings than me."

The girl hesitated, looking back at the dark scenery before her. She chuckled to herself, smiling at the old man before. She was just being paranoid as always; she had to forget, have fun.

"Yes, Pyat, let's g–"

(Y/n) frowned when the mysterious man vanished. Taking her cup from the table, she drank the spirit; the sweet distinct flavour of wine suddenly mixed with a sour taste. Grimacing, the cup slipped through her fingers, emitting a dry sound as it collided with the floor.

(Y/n) rubbed her eye as she leaned on the balcony, wiping her forehead.

"Shall we go, my lady?"

(Y/n) nodded, slightly surprised by the reappearance of the man. He extended his hand for her to hold, and it felt like a block of ice. Before leaving, her and Malfoy made eye contact.

Once again, she put her faith on him, hoping he'd do something to save her.

However, she had to stop depending on him. He himself said that he won't be able to save her anymore.

"Where are you from, dear?"

"N- not from here," she replied, slurring her words.

The sky was pitch black; the only thing illuminating our path were the stars that shone miles away from them. Pyat's pace sped up moderately, leading them to the maze.

"A- and you? Whe- where are you from?" She asked, trying to break the silence.

"Ah... I'm not from here either. I'm from Qarth," his voice sounded like a hushed whisper silenced by wickedness as his dull eyes stared down at her.