Draco and Legolas

Curses

Draco clenched his fists tightly. The edges of his nails cut deeply into his palms, cutting through the skin, leaving what would probably be red marks, or even blood if he clenched his fists tightly enough. He was sure. His body was trembling with annoyance, annoyance, and anger. At whom? That was somewhat difficult. Angry at Legolas, angry at the King, angry at himself. It was probably more towards himself than towards anything else. He was angry that he had allowed himself to slip into emotions so suddenly. It angered him. He did not like it. 

Safe within the confines of a guest room which the King had so graciously bestowed upon him, Draco paced up and down, keeping his fists tight and the nerves jutting out from just how tightly that he clenched them together. It was just something about the King. Something which drove him to anger so easily. Something about King Thranduil which seemed to cut through his natural defenses. despite the many teachings of his father which rumbled around and tossed and turned in his head, there was little that he really could do. The King struck his way deep into his mind, easily cutting through the barriers which he had long since erected. It unnerved him, the only other one who had such an ability to do such things...

Draco inhaled deeply as he heard the tale-tale knock on the door. It was time, for dinner. Something which, for Draco at least, he was definitely not looking forwards to. He had to remember, however. While he was obligated to defer to Legolas, he held no such obligations towards Thranduil. For sake of respect, he had to at least hear the other out, but when it really came down to it, he did not technically have to. 

Draco unclenched his palms, hissing slightly at the pain. Glancing at his skin, he realized that he had managed to dig through the skin. Blood was pooling in his hands. He rolled his eyes at the undignified sight. Still, there was nothing that he could do about it now. The best he can do would be to hide the injuries, and hope that the Prince and King would not realize (Something which Draco was sure to be done in vain as the two were incredibly competent at observing their quarry) that he had somewhat harmed himself on accident. 

Draco cursed himself for even thinking that this was even remotely a good idea. He just knew that this was going to literally be the death of him. (Okay maybe he was being just a little bit dramatic, but the King was a bit unnerving. He really did not like this seemingly unfounded ability that the King had to rip through his defenses as though it were nothing but mere water or paper, it was annoying) 

Draco carefully opened the door, to see who it was. It would be untoward to make the two wait. If anything that would cause more problems than anything good, and Draco would prefer to get through this evening with as little drama as possible. Though he doubted that there would be no drama, and he would even bet that there may be a little yelling or displeasure on the ends of someone, most likely the King at him, or him at himself.

Legolas was at his door. 

"My Prince," Draco said, slightly shocked, rushing to bow his head lightly. His surprise was real. He had not expected the other to come and get him from his temporary residence. He knew that he was going to be sent a guide, but he had not expected Legolas to come himself.

"Draco," The warmth in the Prince's voice soothed him. He was worried that perhaps the other would be colder with him at this point. After all, his father had literally questioned him and was likely going to be engaged in a shouting match in the near future, and yet the other's warmth towards him was unchanged. "Let us not keep my father waiting." 

Draco nodded, understanding the wisdom in that. He knew that it was not the best idea to keep anyone waiting, let alone a King and even less so a King of Thranduil's seemingly patience level. Which was next to zero. Draco doubted that Thranduil would take well to being kept waiting for too long. 

"Of course, my Prince." He said in a soft voice. He closed the door behind him, and Legolas led him towards the room that he, Draco, and the King would be dining in. 

"My father has taken an interest in you. That is not exactly common." 

"Should I be flattered, my Prince?" Draco asked, raising a brow. 

"Perhaps, at this point, it is hard to say whether my Father's uncommon interest towards you is a good thing or a bad thing."

Draco swallowed carefully. He knew that this dinner was going to be many things. One of those would be cementing the King's opinion of him. An opinion which, once formed, he would be hard-pressed to change. Legolas stopped them, just shy of the room.

"You are nervous?" Legolas asked, not really sure. It was not common that he had difficulty reading a person's emotions, but...really Draco tended to be the exception to the rule in many things, not just this one. 

"Just a little, I cannot deny it," Draco said quietly. He was a bit more timid, now that he was about to face HIM.

"You handled yourself well in front of my father earlier. I am sure that you will do it again. Just...do not raise your voice, and do not disrespect him." Legolas warned. Draco already knew these things, though. He most certainly did not need a reminder of them. The rules which his father had embedded upon his soul would forever remain etched there, permanently part of him. Sometimes, the physical proof of those weighed upon his form. 

But he would be fine. Perfectly fine. 

He jolted, slightly, when Legolas touched his shoulder tentatively, the touch light, barely a brush of contact. 

"Do not worry, I am here with you." Draco gave a small smile. 

He would be fine.