The Mirkwood prisons were cruel, rough and damp, and so, so cold. Damian and the rest of Thorin's company had been confined to these cells, stripped of weapons and armour and crammed three to a cell… except Damian It seemed the disdain elves had for dwarves was only surpassed by the disdain they had for orcs… and teiflings.

As his Son..Alucard had been isolated to a cell far below the rest of Damian's party, his hands confined by thick iron gauntlets that tethered him to the wall, a crude iron gag confining his tongue. A stupid centuries-old myth about teiflings breathing fire.

Alucard heard a commotion in the cells above you. At first, he thought it was simply the guards coming to mock the dwarf party and their feeble attempts at besting the elven king, only to realize… it was Bilbo– master Baggins– as Alucard Call called him, your trusty burglar coming to break you all out. A smile broke across his face until he realized…

They had left Alucard Damian's Son

Bilbo had broken the rest of the dwarves out of Mirkwood, leaving Alucard in his cell, calling for them through the metal gag clamped around his Tongue. Straining against the iron cuffs around his hands. They didn’t hear Alucard Had they even noticed his absence? Would they care? Did he mean so little to them? These thoughts rattled in husmind, the walls of your cell closing in around him like an iron claw. He fell back against the walls of his cell, trying desperately to drown out the voices in your head, your hands desperately trying to claw through the gauntlets to cover His ears. His body curled unconsciously, trying to protect himself from the dangers in his.mind, tears burning like lava on your cheeks.

They were gone.

It was hours later –having cried himself to sleep– that Alucard woke to the sound of someone approaching his cell… but not a guard, no, these steps were lighter and sharper, like the sound of a fine pointed heel on stone, the sound of fabric trailing behind hissing like a snake. Alucard cracked an eye open, still moist with tears. The elven king, that's who greeted Him at His cell. His back to him, only allowing you to see the fine embroidery of his robe and the starlight blond of his hair.

“I take no joy in seeing you abandoned hellion,” he said, his back leaning against the door to your cell. Looking across the valley towards the now-empty cells. “I wouldn’t wish abandonment on anyone, no matter their lineage.” There was almost pity in his voice as he turned his head, not quite facing him but looking nonetheless. “An unfortunate fate for an unfortunate creature.”