How...Unfortunate

6

It was not as though he was unaware that travelling on the road would ensure some rather discomforting situations, it was just...he was not expecting them entirely. That was his own fault. While he was not bothered by said discomfort-goodness knows that he had enough of that to desensitise it to him-it was simply that he had begun to rely on a lack of that exact thing. That, precisely, was where he was fucked over. Not being prepared for things has a way of taking one off guard. He supposed he had allowed his guard, however minute, to slip slightly when it came to Legolas. It was not something he was proud of, and it was not something that would be happening again.

The cause for said discomfort? The reason he was internally cursing himself for his own obtuseness? It was when they made camp, although it was quite a bit later than the norm, and he was given food to eat. It had caused him to freeze, and stare. He had glanced back towards the Prince, but he had already joined his guard, who were a few footfalls away. Draco, uncertain what to do with this substance, had pulled the portion close to him, and just...stared.

It was not as if he was uncertain what was being said. He knew that he could eat. He knew that he was allowed, the surprise on the King's face when he had started to give precise orders with the grapes was telling enough, and then the fiasco with the nighttime meal that Draco simply skipped to avoid, well it was not as if he could merely skip yet another meal. One could be shrugged off, yet another was a harder thing to justify. He was just...insecure. He knew that he was allowed to eat, and he knew that the Elves had no misgivings of him, or they would have flayed him at least once already (and he was still quite surprised that the King had not done so), he could not let go of the hesitance from over a year of uncertainty being drilled into him. Not that what the Dark Lord did was much different to what his father did. The Dark Lord just enjoyed ordering specific steps, while once his Father said to eat, that meant clear your plate. Draco remembered once that he had not managed to do so, and needless to say he had not failed to manage it again. HIs father was quite particular with his orders. It was something he missed, once the Dark Lord came around. The Dark Lord's orders were variable most often, and it caused Draco no end to anxiety thinking about what exactly the Lord wanted. It seemed as if his orders meaning would change as quickly as his mood.

He did not bother hiding the food. He smiply left it on the plate, staring down mournfully. He did not want to even begin to wonder what could happen if the Elf Prince decided that he had disobeyed, and was to be punished, particularly considering thta he had no idea what the common punishments for elves were in the first place. Thranduil did not seem to be like a King that was idle. It seemed as if he were stern, unyielding. A part of Draco was relaxed with that. It reminded him somewhat of his father, though with less constant flaying and more compassion. Just thinking it is leaving me feeling down. He thought to himself, a nail idly tracing the edges of the bowl he had been given to hold his soup. That a King from some Elvish land of no great origin would be kinder than my own father. Than my father's own idol? It is harsh, but perhaps a needed lesson, after all. Father has his reasons, and I am not allowed to question them. Tis simply not my place. Perhaps the Dark Lord had been more than what he was now, in the past. Even then, I can see why Father joined him, if nothing more than the ideology. The Dark Lord is powerful, and Father has always attached himself to those in power.

His thoughts taking a dark turn, Draco shook them from his mind. If he were to continue down that rabbit hole it would not be good. Barring that, the Dark Lord and his father were nowhere to be seen, and he should be enjoying the small moments that he had away from them now. It was just difficult when he knew that moment he returned, or the Dark Lord found him, he would be punished severely for his thoughts, his actions, his everything. It was normal, when it came from his father. The physical, and even the occasional magical torment he was put through was bearable...but the Dark Lord...as with everything else about him it just seemed too much.

Too overwhelming. Too powerful. Too...just too much. The Dark Lord's own magic was cloying and stuck to him like a sticky cloud of misery. Even fa r away he had control over Draco. Control over his thoughts, his worries, his peace. It was almost as if he was not able to enjoy himself anymore. Who knew, perhaps he could not. A precious moment not to be taken foregranted, and yet here I am worrying over what the Dark Lord would think if I were caught. A sigh exited his breath, frustration warring between him. He tried to stay his anxiety over the food, but he simply could not and his fingers hovered over the meal for a long while before he just tossed it slightly, watching as the soup sloshed where he pushed it. He felt tears fill his eyes and silently drip down his cheeks.

I am pathetic. The voice of his father seemed to echo as if reprimanding him as he thought the words. He truly was was he not? Not even able to stomach eating without permission! A truly pathetic vision of an Heir. His father would be vastly disappointed.

"Draconis," He startled, staring up at the blue eyes of the Prince once again. "I do apologize, the guards had some reservations. I have stayed them, but it did take a bit longer than anticipated. I should have attended to you first." Draco just bowed his head, not sure what else to do. The Prince closed his eyes, withholding a reserved sigh. "Eat, you will need your strength, you must finish the bowl." The Prince picked it up and once more pushed it into his hands. Draco felt uneasy, but with the permission guiding his mind and hands he gripped the bowl and spoon, pressing the hot broth into his mouth, and relaxing slightly as it warmed his stomach and eased the weight that had settled against his chest.