Jarillion's fortress

Somewhere in the Trackless Waste:

Harry no longer knew what day it was, or even the time. Inside the cell, there were no windows to see out and his watch had stopped working soon after Jarillion had visited them the first time. There was little for them to do in the cell except try and keep each other's spirits up and speculate on whether or not Jarillion would try some harmful magic on them, or if Severus and Sarai had learned of their capture and were searching for them. Both had tried to Summon their wands using wandless magic to no avail. Harry was unsure if it was because there was some ward over the cell that prevented them from using magic or if the wands were out of range of the spell.

"But we won't give up," Draco said determinedly. "We'll keep on trying to figure a way out of this bloody icebox."

"Right," was all Harry said, though right then their chances looked very bleak indeed. He shivered slightly and clutched his skimpy blanket to him. Jarillion had not been to see them in he couldn't figure how long. A day? Two days? So Harry had no opportunity to harangue the Unseelie about giving them better blankets and such. Draco had been given a potion to enable him to endure the cold, and so felt it less, but Harry had nothing and was always this side of frozen. He made himself meditate and he practiced kin-sa-dor with Draco both to keep himself alert and fit and to stave off the cold. Harry swore that he could feel the frost creeping through his blood and down to every bone in his body.

After doing some elementary warm-up stretches, Harry said, "I hope Nesmay is all right. I'm really worried about what that beast is doing to her."

"I know. Me too," Draco said, his gray eyes darkening. "Jarillion reminds me of Lucius. Only worse. Lucius only had one human lifetime to grow cruel and hard. That one's had several."

Harry nodded. Draco was right. Jarillion was positively scary, maybe even more so than Voldemort. Harry suspected the Winter prince had levels of deception and cruelty to him that made Voldemort look like Father Christmas. "If only we had our wands. I hate feeling so . . .powerless."

Draco sighed. "Tell me about it. At least if I had my wand I could hex that smug expression off his face. How long do you think we've been here?"

"Hard to tell. If I had to guess . . .I'd say not more than a full day and night."

"How do you figure that, Harry?"

"We've been fed twice. Once after we woke and again today. So if last night was supper, this morning must be breakfast." Harry assumed.

"It feels like we've been here forever," groaned his brother.

"Yeah. Time creeps by when you're locked up." Harry said knowingly, having been locked up throughout his whole childhood.

"I wonder where old Icicle is?" Draco mused. "Off torturing the servants? Cutting the wings and legs off shimmerlings?"

"Merlin only knows," Harry made a face. "It's too bad we couldn't contact Smidgen."

"Why can't you? Through your link to the manor?"

"Because . . .one, I'm not on the manor grounds, and two, shimmerlings can't trespass on Winter lands. That was an agreement in the Accords between the courts a long time ago."

"How do you know all that?"

Harry shrugged. "I read a lot about the fae culture over the summer, before you came. And Smidgen confirmed it when I asked her."

"Bloody hell! There goes another brilliant idea shot to blazes," Draco grimaced. "Do you think Dad's looking for us already?"

"Of course. But whether or not he can find us is another matter," Harry frowned, looking down at his palms.

"If he has help from Sarai, he'll find us." Draco said confidently, though he sounded more hopeful than he really was. He had a bad feeling that their imprisonment was only going to get worse.

As if his thoughts were a catalyst, the door to their cell unlocked and swung open and Jarillion himself strode in. The handsome fae was dressed in skintight frost blue leggings with knee-high boots of frost serpent scale accented with the fur of a white bugbear. His tunic was of soft deerskin, also bleached white and accented with sparkling crystals along the hem and collar. A silver diadem with a large sapphire set in the center bound his flowing silvery locks. He gave them a parody of a welcoming smile. "A fair morn to you, children. Are you enjoying my hospitality?"

"Yeah, sure. This is the best jail cell I've ever been in," Harry quipped insolently. "Not!"

"What have you done with Nesmay?" Draco demanded.

"Nothing," Jarillion drawled lazily, his eyes half-lidded. He reminded Draco of a cobra deciding whether or not to strike. "Why are you determined to think the worst of me?"

"Umm . . .maybe because you're Unseelie and the sworn enemies of my family?" Harry growled.

"Oh?" Jarillion raised an eyebrow."How so? I have not called out a vendetta against the Prince line, boy. Just because I am of Winter does not mean we cannot get along. Was that not the purpose of Queen Titania's invitation? To promote peace between our realms? Have you not figured out by now that Winter and Summer are two sides of the same coin?"

"I got that, but you're on the wrong side, my lord." Harry sneered, looking very much like his father then. "You kidnapped us and our cousin against our will. Aren't you afraid you've broken the treaty between the courts?"

Jarillion looked supremely indifferent. "Abduction is an accepted form of courtship among the fae, young Prince. Just ask Captain Valinek and she'll tell you some fool ballad about her parents, and how her father stole away her mother from her mortal betrothed."

"But Sarai's mum never loved the man she was supposed to marry," Harry interjected. "Nesmay sure as hell doesn't love you."

"Love is mortal twaddle," Jarillion snorted. "A royal marriage is always done for advantage, not foolish emotions. Nesmayallindra knows this. She will soon grow to accept her fate."

"That's what you think," Draco laughed. "Keep dreaming, prince."

Jarillion scowled. "I expect better of one who was raised as highborn, Draco Malfoy. Oh yes, I know who you are, boy. I made it my business to learn about you and your mortal family. I know that your father was a follower of the dark path and taught you as well."

"That was a long time ago, Jarillion," Draco said, deliberately omitting any kind of honorific. "I don't use those spells any more. And Lucius is not my father, he disowned me. Severus Snape is my father."

Jarillion waved a hand at the blond wizard dismissively and focused upon Harry next. "As for you, Lord Snape, I hear you used to be a . . .shall we say . . .receptacle for the spirit of an infamous dark wizard named Voldemort. The same one that sired darling Nesmayallindra."

Harry felt something twist inside his stomach. "I'm not any more. And he's dead. What do you care, anyway?"

"Why, cousin, I care because it means we have something in common. We are both touched by darkness, and have felt the night's seductive call. What is it they say among mortals? You can take the wizard away from dark magic, but never remove the dark magic from the wizard." Jarillion suddenly laughed.

"What are you saying?" Harry whispered in horror. "You're lying!"

"Me, lie?" Jarillion looked stricken. "Now you've insulted me. You know perfectly well that the fae cannot lie."

"But you can bend the truth," Draco spat. "What do you call that then?"

"Necessity." He gave them a chiding look. "Why make this hard on yourselves? You are my guests and I dislike treating you this way."

"Then let us go home." Harry snapped.

"I cannot do that. Not until Nesmay and I are married."

"You can't keep us locked up here forever," Draco half-shouted, struggling to keep from strangling the smug bastard.

"Can't I?" purred the Unseelie prince.

"No. Not if you want us to still be alive as a hostage," Harry said shrewdly. "We need blankets and other things to keep warm."

"Done." Jarillion snapped his fingers and their straw pallets were suddenly transformed into huge four poster feather beds with rich velvet comforters and acres of fluffy pillows. Their bare stone floor was covered with a thick furry rug and a table appeared in the middle of the floor laden with food. "There, you see? I am not quite such a monster. The blue vials contain a potion that shall enable you to tolerate the cold here."

Draco's eyes narrowed. He knew that someone of Jarillion's ilk never gave anything for free to anyone. "Real nice? What do you want from us?"

Jarillion smiled oily. "Do you like these things? All I ask of you is this—let your dark side roam free for an hour. And convince Nesmay that it is in her best interest and that of the Seelie court that she marry me. Do that and this room shall be yours."

Harry had been scanning the room with his Sorcerer's Sight. Then he blinked and rubbed his eyes. "You haven't given us anything real, Jarillion. That's nothing but Glamour."

"Now. Do what I want and I shall make it permanent." Jarillion persuaded.

"Never again," Draco vowed.

"Go to hell," Harry muttered, glaring at him. "We're not becoming your slaves."

Jarillion clucked at him the way he would a misbehaving dire wolf. "Ungrateful brat! This is why mortal and fae should never mix. Because the result is brain damaged children like yourselves, unable to recognize an opportunity when you see one." He snapped his fingers again and the Glamour vanished, returning the cell to its former appearance. "Very well. If this is what you choose . . ."

"I'd rather freeze than join you," Harry cried. "Let us see Nesmay."

"No," sniggered Jarillion. "Naughty defiant children don't get their wishes granted. All they get is locked in their room." He shook a finger at them chidingly.

"Why won't you let us see her?" Draco argued. "What have you done to her?"

"If you've hurt her—" Harry began, his Snape temper sparking.

Jarillion smirked. "You'll what? You impotent whelp, do you think your pitiful threats frighten me? I am the lord and master of this estate, and my every whim is law here. You exist here because I wish it so, little Prince. Remember that, boy. Nesmay is my bride-to-be . . .and how I treat her is no business of yours. Perhaps if you consider my offer and accept it . . .I shall permit you to speak with her. If not . . .you shall be very sorry." He gave them a shark's smile, all teeth and menace. "Watch your step, little wizard. I am losing my patience."

"I already told you, you bloody damn—oof!" Harry gasped for breath when Draco elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"What do we get in return if we consider your offer?" Draco interrupted before Harry could make the Unseelie angry.

"Smart boy. If you agree to become my apprentice in the Dark Arts, I shall allow you free run of my castle. I shall not need to lock you up here," Jarillion purred. "And you can study with sweet Nesmay as well."

Draco frowned hard. "We'll think on it. In the meantime, could we have some decent food, Your Highness? Pig slop doesn't agree with us."

"Orc pudding is not to your taste?" laughed the prince. "Very well. A truce. Here." He clapped his hands and bowls of steaming chicken and dumplings appeared, as well as hot crusty rolls dripping in butter and honey and tall glasses of merlinna juice. "Just remember . . .what I give can also be taken away." He pointed a finger at Harry, who was just about to bite into a roll, and the roll became infested with maggots.

Harry dropped the roll with a cry, gagging.

As soon as he had done so, the maggoty roll vanished.

Jarillion tisked. "Wasteful. Have you no appreciation for my largesse, little Snape?"

Harry glared daggers at him.

Draco nudged him again. Harry managed a thank you, but he refused to apologize.

"Very well. Think carefully about my offer. It shall not come again. I believe you both have great potential . . .to become masters of the Dark. All you have to do is quit fighting against it and accept it."

With that, Jarillion turned and exited the cell. The door slammed shut with a snap.

As soon as the sound of his footsteps had died, Harry rounded on Draco. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled, his green eyes blazing.

Draco returned his glower. "I could ask the same of you, little brother!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're letting your emotions cloud your thinking," returned the Slytherin. "If we go along with him . . .or pretend to . . .we might have a chance at getting out of here with Nesmay."

"Go along with him?" sputtered Harry. "Draco, he wants us to become dark wizards! I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can. Just like you pretended to be your relatives' slave all those years."

"That wasn't pretend! It was real!"

"What you did was real, but you never surrendered to them. Not in your heart, where it counted. Just like I never became a true follower of Voldemort. Harry, we have to agree. It's our only chance to get out of this prison."

"He'll never buy it. And I don't know if I can stomach him."

"You can and you will, Harry Albus Snape. Shove that Gryffindor pride up your arse, brother, and act like a Slytherin. Like Dad did all those years as a spy. How do you think he survived? By pretending to be a Death Eater. If he did it, so can we."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. As long as we need to, I guess."

"Let me think about it," Harry conceded. Though Draco's plan made plenty of sense, he hated to knuckle under to that slimy scum's demands. He cast a wary eye at the food and picked up the glass of merlinna juice cautiously and sipped it. When it didn't turn to piss or vinegar on his tongue he swallowed. "Hope this isn't poisoned."

"Ha! At least we'd die with a full stomach," chuckled Draco. "He wouldn't waste his precious magic on poisoning us. He needs us alive . . .to ransom and subvert."

"For now." Harry said darkly. He slowly ate a spoonful of chicken and dumplings. To his shock, it actually tasted wonderful. "Huh. This is good."

Draco nodded, having his mouth full. "Yes. This is one thing he didn't lie about to us. Then again, like I said, why bother? I don't trust him as far as I can spit, but if he wanted us dead we'd be six feet under already." He ate a roll and licked his fingers.

Harry ate mechanically, because he was hungry, though he had to admit the food was really good. Who would have guessed the Unseelie could cook? Finally he set down his fork and said, "Draco, I'm afraid. What if . . .we start to lose ourselves in the dark magic?"

"We won't. I'll make sure of it," Draco promised. "Just follow my lead, okay?"

Harry nodded. "All right. I really hope Nesmay is okay, that he didn't hex her or beat her or something."

Draco did not answer, but he silently agreed with Harry. Please, Nesmay, don't lose your temper. Not till we can pay Jarillion back, that is.

High above him, in an elegant opulent suite of rooms, a fae princess paced like a caged leopard, her purple spiked hair bristling like a hedgehog's. If Jarillion thought she would meekly surrender and become his bride and sex slave, he needed to have his brains bashed out. Every time the Winter prince came to her, she felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. She managed to restrain herself by the slimmest of margins. But she still wished she could tell him that the sight of him made her puke.

He was like a lurker, all serenity and pretty flowers to lure you in and then . . . SNAP! You were lunch. Nesmay was not fooled by the prince's sudden desire to give her things, she knew what he was about. He was playing with her, like a shimmerling did to a sparrow. Only this time, the sparrow wouldn't go meekly to her death, but fight every inch of the way. Jarillion, you're a viper. Better watch out though, because I'm a mongoose.