A/N: Minor spoilers for BotFA. This is a short one-shot I thought of. I went AU and disregarded the unused Thranduil/Legolas scene from "Desolation of Smaug". Also, I tried my best explaining Gundabad. I have never written a story for LotR or Hobbit, so feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

There were times, fleeting and painful in their intensity, when Thranduil looked upon his son and was reminded of her. She was present in their son's features—in the hue of his golden hair, and in the softness of his rare smile, but most of all, Thranduil saw her in Legolas' good heart and sincerity.

"Why did you do that? You promised to set him free," his son had asked while he held the head of the orc Thranduil had decapitated in anger.

"Why are you so harsh with him, meleth nin? He is still a child and he is your son."

Thranduil closed his eyes in despair. Legolas' words mirrored the sweet words of his mother and the gentle nature of her soul... She had fallen in love with the beauty of the world, had believed there was goodness in all things. Never had she thought promises could be broken and words twisted. She had been innocent and carefree, and if she had made a promise, she had kept her word. She had not used deceit in order to get what she wanted. Not like Thranduil had done minutes ago before his throne.

"Why did you do that? You promised to set him free."

They were the very words she would have spoken to chastise Thranduil for his deception and violence. She would have been horrified by his actions. And the very image of her shocked face caused Thranduil to feel a stab of remorse. He did not wish to think of her. The memories were too painful to recall, even so long after her death. But his mind did not listen and past memories flashed before his eyes.

Here, in his own chambers—in the very sitting room he stood in now, he had found her nearly a thousand years before.

She was reclining on her favorite divan when he entered their chambers. Her golden hair gleamed in the candlelight and she looked ethereal in the glow. A book was in her slender hands but her grey eyes were not reading its pages. Instead, her eyes were distant, and Thranduil knew her thoughts wandered. She did not hear him approach as he quietly shut the door behind him and moved on silent feet to her side.

"Luthiel," he spoke softly, and he caressed her cheek to draw her attention.

It was not until she heard her name spoken that she became aware of her surroundings. She looked to him and met his gaze. "Thranduil," she said, sitting up and closing her long-forgotten book.

He sat beside her on the edge of the divan and lifted a hand to stroke her hair back from her face. She looked weary. "It is late. You should not have waited for me," he murmured. He urged her to rise so that they might go to bed and sleep, but she grabbed his hands and halted him.

"I wished to speak with you."

Her eyes were serious, and Thranduil recognized the determination in them. She was upset.

He sighed deeply. "What is it you wish to speak of?" he asked as he reclaimed his seat beside her. He kept his tone soft and cautious.

"Legolas was inconsolable when you returned from the training fields with him. He would not say what happened when I asked him, but I heard from others."

Thranduil bristled. "And what have you heard?"

"You severely reprimanded him in front of the wardens."

Her words caused Thranduil to rise from his perch beside her, and he turned his back on her. "He disobeyed me. He lifted a sword too heavy and dangerous for him handle and nearly harmed himself with the blade," he said, anger rising in his voice.

Luthiel stood. "You took hold of his arm and shouted at him. He was frightened."

Thranduil whirled to face her and his robes whispered along the ground at his momentum. "You would rather I had allowed him to injure himself?" he wondered, his tone a dark murmur.

His wife folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. "No. I simply wish you had handled the situation better. Shouting at him will never achieve the results you seek."

"You are too soft," Thranduil answered harshly. She flinched at his tone and he instantly regretted his words. "Luthiel..."

"Why are you so harsh with him, meleth nin? He is still a child and he is your son. He wishes to be like you."

Thranduil felt remorse rise within him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him before he could. "And perhaps you are right," she whispered, turning away from his gaze. "Perhaps I am too soft."

There were many things Thranduil loved about her. She was sweet-hearted, kind, and passionate, and her hands soothed his hurts and calmed his anger. Yet the thing he cherished most was her gentle nature and her soft words. He never wanted her to feel ashamed of her nature and change because of it.

Alarmed, he stepped forward and drew her directly into his arms. She did not fight him as he tucked her head beneath his chin. "I did not mean it, meleth. You are right... I am sorry."

With a long sigh, Luthiel relaxed into his hold. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly. "I love our son more than life itself," she said against his chest. "I never want to see fear in his eyes again. Please, Thranduil..."

Thranduil sighed but nodded. He lifted a hand to stroke her hair. "I will speak with him in the morning," he said.

He held her for a few moments longer before releasing her. Kissing the crown of her head, he murmured, "Come. Let us retire for the evening. You leave in two days and require rest for your journey." She was traveling with an envoy north toward the western edges of the Grey Mountains near the Greylin River.

She took his hand and he led the way to their bedchamber.

Thranduil closed his eyes once more. He could not bear to look at the divan Luthiel had loved to recline on. The image was too painful, for it reminded him of one the last memorable moments he had had with her. Two days after that night, she had gone north for diplomatic reasons and, instead, had met with torture and death in Gundabad. He had arrived too late to save her...

Thinking of her screams, Thranduil fled from the room. He swung open the doors to leave his chambers but was suddenly faced with one of the ellyn in his guard.

"What is it, Elros?" he asked sharply.

The guard stammered and cleared his throat. He looked alarmed. "It is the Prince, my King. He followed after Tauriel, who left the gates before we could bar them."

Thranduil frowned. Legolas was blinded by his affection for Tauriel; however, he was skilled and very capable. He would bring her back to Mirkwood.

'Legolas, you are soft like your mother,' he thought, but this time the pain of her memory was soothed by the affection he felt for his son.

He walked past Elros, through the palace, and returned to his throne, glad to see that the head and body of the orc scum had been disposed of.