The Colour of Blue and Gold
He would remember the day that she had died for the rest of his long life.
He would remember the sounds created that morning, the shouts and giggles that had woken them both, and her light laugh as he grumbled his thoughts on being awoken.
He would remember the scents as they sat in the dining room, eating their last breakfast together, though neither had known it at that point.
He would remember the sights, of her in her dress with her long hair held loose, and their youngest child perched on her hip, and both smiling happily.
He would remember the touch of her lips against his as she kissed him farewell, and her light touch on his arm, whilst she assured him that they would be safe, and would return swiftly.
But mostly, he would remember the gold of the sun against the blue of the sky as he ran out into the courtyard. Of the shouts and the terrifying silence that followed. Of the stench of blood that immediately assaulted his nose as he approached the frantic group. Of the sight of her in her dress, discoloured with the blood he knew to be hers, of the bloodied and limp child that was being carried by one of the scouts, and of the touch of his fingers upon her frozen cheek.
He pulled himself from the thoughts that he often strayed into - the moments when his bonded had been brought home, still and lifeless - and rose from his throne. The court members bowed at the action and the elf that had asked for his council froze mid-sentence, and looked terrified as Thranduil started down the small series of steps that led to the thrones.
He paid the poor elf no attention as he strode past, and continued until he had left the large throne room. Once free of the confines he allowed himself to breathe, and sent his hands to the end of his hair, releasing it from the braid it had been pulled into and running his fingers through it, calming himself as he breathed deeply. He leant back against the door for a second, suddenly remembering that he had walked from his court, and listened to the sounds of one of his council members speaking to the elf he should have been listening to. A smile crept upon his face, the realisation that they would take care of the court dawned upon him, and that he was free for the rest of the day, and he started to walk through the corridors.
As he walked, ignoring the elves he met on his way that bowed to him as he passed them, his mind strayed once more to that day. He had forcefully pulled himself from his distress and had gently taken his bonded's body into his arms, cradling her still form, speaking softly to her, begging for her to return to him, praying to feel something, anything, from a heart that didn't beat, a body that didn't live. He did not know how long he had stood, clutching her form, tears running down his face to land on her own that was as still and cold as stone, he had barely registered his eldest child coming to stand beside him, but finally took notice when she was pulled from his grasp, and strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist before he had a chance to go after he, and the arms had half-led, half-carried him into the securities of the palace. In his shock he allowed himself to be pulled into a silent, darkened room, and then had gathered enough of his mind to pull away from the arms that had led him there to stumble to the side of a bed, and fell with a silent sob to clutch at the hand of his youngest and unconscious child.
Again he forced himself from the thoughts, releasing a shaky breath and stopping for a moment to still the shaking that had taken a hold of his body. He and his entire family had fallen into a depression they had only just escaped from after her death; he would not allow himself to return to that state due to a memory.
Composed, he brushed out the creases of his robes and continued through the corridor, an elleth exited from a room into the corridor, smiling gently at her King and dropping a small curtsey. Thranduil nodded his head in return, his eyes catching sight of, and staying, on the small wooden horse puppet that rested limply in her hand, and then he continued on his way, a smile playing at his lips.
The young child had healed, though slowly, but had stayed in a silence that had worried the family to no ends, and the depression they themselves had been in had no helped the child in any way. It had been the eldest Thranduilion who had realised that the states they had worked themselves into was tearing the family and kingdom apart, and had started to return the family to their former-selves, it had taken a painstakingly long time, and now only memories and scars remained to remind them of the problems they had faced, and that a member of their family was gone, without hope of returning.
His walk through the corridors finally found him in the gardens of the palace, and he caught the sounds of shouts and laughter on the breeze, and the smile stretched further on his face. He wandered along the path, enjoying the breeze and bright sunlight after his previous confinement within the palace, and finally found himself upon the large area of grass where his sons were playing.
There was a shout, and a small form in forest green shot towards him, golden hair streaming behind like a horse tail, and Thranduil bent to catch the small child before rising again to his full height, and swung the child around, laughing at the light-hearted shrieks his youngest made. He finally stopped, eyes locked onto the laughter-filled blue orbs that stared back as both waited for the world to stop spinning around them, and Thranduil's laughter finally stopped short, seeing the distant glimmer of sadness that still resided in the elflings eyes, reflecting that within all of their hearts.
He pulled the child against his chest, feeling thin arms reach out to wrap around his neck, and he dropped his head so that his cheek rested on the hair of his youngest, and he inhaled the scent of the rosewood essence that was used to clean the child's hair. The laughter around him had died away, and he found himself locked within the comforting embrace of all his sons, and he finally allowed the tears to flow.
He had been afraid for some time after her death. Afraid of what would happen to him, now that she was gone, afraid of what would happen to his realm, which like the family had appeared to fall into the shadow that had taken over them, afraid of what would happen to his family, afraid that they would all forget her.
His tears had stopped now, and he drew his head up from his youngest's hair, finding that they had all dropped to sit on the grass whilst he had cried, and that his children were all still holding him, their heads resting lightly on his back and chest, listening to his heartbeat, following his breathing, and he felt their fear that they could also loose him as they had lost their mother. The child in his arms shifted, and a teary-eyed face rose to meet his.
He had been afraid that he would loose every memory he held of her, that he and his entire family would forget her, but one look at the child he held made him remember that they could not, for the child held every likeness to his mother, and he knew then - within the colour of blue and gold - that they would remember her forever.