A/N – All Twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer.
Nessie POV
He looked so different to how I'd imagined. I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not this.
Drago looked to be about in his late twenties, with piercing dark eyes, smooth tanned skin and strong aquiline features. He stood about 6 foot 4 and his body was strong and muscled. He had broad powerful shoulders. And he was ridiculously handsome. Since when does the bad guy get to be hot?
He was studying me with a strange mix of curiosity, delight and satisfaction. I stood completely still, staring silently at the patterns in the stone floor. He circled around me, examining his new acquisition. I flinched when he touched my hair. My fear was momentarily overtaken by a surge of indignation, and I slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me," I snapped.
He smirked at me, obviously amused. I wondered whether it was the same kind of amusement that a cat has when it's toying with a mouse. And I was suddenly reminded how very precarious my position was, and how very much my life was right now at the mercy of this man and his whims.
"Ah, so the hybrid speaks," his voice was a deep rumble.
"I have a name, you know," I retorted. The indignation simmering away still obviously had a stronger hold on me than common sense. "I don't appreciate being referred to as 'the hybrid'. It's demeaning."
"I'm sorry," he responded kindly. Excuse me, what? I stared at him in disbelief. Did he just apologise to me?
"Please forgive me," Drago continued, "You do have a name, and it was remiss of me to objectify you. I understand your companion calls you Nessie. May I call you Nessie? Or do you prefer," he stumbled over the pronunciation, "Ruh-nez-may..?"
I was taken aback by his politeness. After my treatment at the hands of his henchmen, I was expecting to be beaten, flogged, shouted at, slapped – not asked civilly which form of my name I'd prefer being called.
"Did I not pronounce it correctly?" he asked when I didn't answer.
"Um, no, that's the right pronunciation," I heard my voice answering. "And I'd prefer it if you called me Renesmee." Nessie was too personal, and I didn't like anyone else except Jake calling me that.
Jake, oh god, my poor Jake. My thoughts flew to him. I desperately hoped that he was okay. We hadn't been too far from the village, it was getting late, and the tribespeople would have noticed that we hadn't returned. They would have come looking for us, right? And then they would have found him. And they would have taken him back to the village, and patched him all up. I so desperately hoped that was what had happened. Please, let my Jake be okay. But he'd been beaten and stabbed, and was lying on the ground bleeding and unconscious last time I saw him. I felt the hot tears begin to well up in my eyes.
"Then I shall call you Renesmee." Drago continued, paying no attention to my distress.
He continued circling me, examining me from as many angles as possible.
"Amazing," he breathed. "Truly amazing. The spitting image of that which was prophesied in the Scrolls." He ran his finger down my cheek. I recoiled at his touch. If he was offended, he didn't show it.
"Now, Renesmee," he said, "You will be escorted to your quarters where you will rest and bathe, and make yourself presentable. Katerina will attend to your needs." Drago snapped his fingers and an elderly woman came forward. She curtsied low to the ground.
"My lord," she answered in acknowledgement.
"Take the lady Renesmee to her quarters, and see that she is bathed, rested and looked after. I will see her again this evening, at the banquet."
Banquet? What banquet? I wasn't going to any banquet, and least of some banquet thrown by this psycho kidnapper. I needed to see my Jake.
"I need to see Jake…" I began, but Drago silenced me with his hand. There was an arrogance and finality to the gesture that ticked me off.
"He is of no consequence," Drago stated dismissively. "You would do best to forget about him, and everything outside of this castle. Your place is here now." I began to protest, but his eyes flashed cruelly as he added, "And whether you make that place at my side, or in my dungeon, will be entirely up to you."
Drago gestured towards the large metal doors, and I found myself being bundled out of the hall.
... ~ ooo00O00ooo ~ ...
I followed Katerina up a large stone staircase and past a series of rooms on either side of a long corridor. The two soldiers flanking either side of me did a pretty good job of discouraging any notions I might have had of escape.
Now that I was out of earshot and eyeshot of Drago, I started noticing my surroundings. The whole place reminded me of a medieval castle, but lighter and more airy. The furnishings were old and obviously timeworn, but still very beautiful. I probably would have thought it was all actually quite lovely if I wasn't being herded around like some prize pig.
We came to a pair of large ornate doors. They swung open, and I was led past them into a large airy bedroom. One wall of the room was almost taken up completely by a row of windows, their light curtains billowing gently in the breeze. The mist had now lifted, and the morning sunlight was streaming through the large open windows. Katerina gestured to the soldiers to leave, and they heaved the heavy doors closed as they left the room, taking their places, I assumed, at either side outside of the doorway.
The room was – there was no other word for it – luxurious. From the sheer size of it, down to the rich furnishings and lavish décor, it was the epitome of opulence. But despite all this, all I wanted was to be back with my Jake. I felt a pull from beyond the mountains, where Drago's men had snatched me from. And I knew that pull – the pull of the imprint – meant that Jake was still alive. Jake was still alive I thought through the empty ache in my chest. And as the realisation of that truth rushed over me, I sighed in relief.
"These are your quarters, Lady Renesmee," said Katerina, drawing me out of my thoughts. "The washroom is to your right," she gestured to a large clawfooted bathtub partially hidden behind a decorative screen, "and a selection of garments has been laid out for you to choose from." She gestured towards a large wardrobe where some clothing had been laid out on a chaise lounge in front of it. On a nearby table was laid a small platter of bread and fruit, along with a jug of what I assumed was juice of some sort.
"How do you know my language?" It occurred to me that, unlike when I had first met Merlin and the tribespeople, I could understand everything that Drago and Katerina were saying.
"I have served Lord Drago all of my life, my lady, and did my parents before me, and theirs before them."
"That still doesn't explain how you know my language," I pointed out. I was starting to get annoyed at how my questions were being answered with only the bare minimum of information - information which didn't even really answer what I wanted to know.
"My ancestors have served Lord Drago from the time of the Sword in the Stone," Katerina answered. "The language of the ancients has been passed down through the generations of my family." Great, I thought, I've been kidnapped by an immortal psycho who enslaves generations of people, and who brainwashes them into thinking that any of that is acceptable.
My mind began to wander to the myriad of contradictions I'd experienced in Drago in the short time I'd been here. On the one hand, he had civilly apologised for 'objectifying' me, and then in practically the same breath he had dismissed my distress and issued a not-so-thinly veiled threat. And now I was being put up in these luxurious quarters, rather than chained in a dungeon as I had originally thought I would be.
"Lord Drago is a very powerful man, my lady," the older woman said, as if sensing my unease. "And powerful men can be kind as they can be cruel." She added matter-of-factly, "You are the prize upon which the Prophecy rests, and he will have you."
The statement hung in the air. I thought about responding, but until I had a better grasp of who I was dealing with, I thought it wiser to keep my mouth shut. What I knew for certain now though, was that this woman was no ordinary maidservant. Her family had been in Drago's service for generations, and he had assigned her to oversee my needs. If I was smart, I would watch myself with her.
"But you have travelled far, my lady," the older woman spoke again, changing the subject, "and you must be weary. There is hot water in the tub for you to bathe in. Once you have washed the sweat and grime of your travels away, I would suggest you have a bite to eat," she gestured to the tray of bread and fruit on the table, "and then rest. I will return in the late afternoon to wake and dress you for the banquet."
"I don't want to go to any banque…" I began to protest, but was silenced by a flash of annoyance from the older woman's eyes.
"Lady Renesmee," Katerina said firmly, "You would do well to remember your place. Lord Drago has shown you much kindness, and I would suggest you not forget that." She straightened her dress and repeated in a tone that made it clear she was a woman who would not stand for any nonsense, "I will return in the late afternoon to wake and dress you for the banquet."
And then she added, as if by way of an afterthought, "I assume that I do not have to remind you, my lady, that any attempts to escape would be futile."
And with that, Katerina left the room, as I stared after her at the firmly closed door.