A/N: I know Elves cannot get drunk (in theory, at least), but I thought it would be fun to play with the idea. After all, what can be more entertaining than Thranduil under the influence of alcohol and Tauriel as his very sober companion? ;) That being said, I hope you will have a good time reading it. The story was inspired a little bit by Avril Lavigne's "Give You What You Like", as the song really fits the mood of it, being both playful and quite serious at the same time.
There will be more chapters, of course, but I have no idea how much exactly, since I'm writing this fic as I go. You should expect part 2 by the end of next week though. Feel free to harass me if I'm late with the update ;)
I would also like to remind you that I'm taking Thranduil/Tauriel fanfic requests , so don't hesitate to write me a PM, if you have something in mind for those two!
Please, remember to review and favourite. Your support and feedback mean a lot to me and make me want to write even more! :)

MAYBE SOMEDAY

PART 1

"Please wrap your drunken arms around me
And I'll let you call me yours tonight
'Cause slightly broken is just what I need
And if you give me what I want,
Then I'll give you what you like"
-Avril Lavigne, "Give You What You Like"

In the few centuries of her life, Tauriel had faced many obstacles and challenges on the way to achieving a certain goal. Some were easier than the others, some proved to be quite tedious and some seemed simply pointless, although they all usually helped her in a way, no matter how small and insignificant said help would seem at the very beginning.

However, taking care of a drunk King Thranduil would probably find its place somewhere on top of the list of things she would have liked to never have a questionable pleasure of experiencing. There was absolutely no merit in it whatsoever, no valuable experience to gain, and she could have lived without the knowledge of how much wine her king could consume without passing out. As it was, she had no other choice but to play his glorified babysitter, because Galion, who was supposed to take care of the matter instead of her, was already soundly asleep after drinking himself into a stupor. Normally the duty would fall to Legolas, but the prince was somewhere in the North at the moment, doing Valars-only-knew what, and thus was sadly unable to take the burden off Tauriel's shoulders.

Thranduil could hold his wine remarkably well, even on an empty stomach, but three jugs of Dorwinion was pushing it and it has made him even more of a nuisance than usual. It was Mereth Nuin Giliath, so she understood the need to celebrate, though, in her opinion, there was a huge difference between making merry and trying your very best to empty the wine cellar. There were drunk elves everywhere, since the night was still young, and only the on-duty guards, Tauriel included, were sober. For some reason though it didn't seem right to dump the responsibility of handling the very intoxicated king to someone else, so she had delegated her second-in-command, Faenor, to watch over the feast while she had resigned herself to pursuing Thranduil, who had somehow managed to sneak out of the feast hall at some point during the evening with a jug of wine.

Right now he was sitting on one of the platforms on the lower levels of the fortress and swinging his legs over the edge of it like an elfling of fifty with the goofiest and most ridiculous grin on his face. It was a good thing that he seemed to be a very happy drunk, because she had absolutely no idea what she would have done if she had found him in a less jubilant mood. Thankfully, he had left his sword and crown on his throne, which she counted as a blessing. There would have been hell to pay if he had lost one or the other, and Tauriel had enough things to worry about as it was without having to search for the royal insignia all around the King's Halls. At least she knew he still had some wits about him. Not that it helped her much in any case.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for what boded to be a very long and eventful night, she took a seat next to the king. He turned to look at her and his smile widened, if it was even possible at this point.

"Good evening, Tauriel," he said to her before returning to whatever he had been doing earlier when she had been still busy looking for him. She noted that his cheeks dimpled when he was smiling like that and, to her utter astonishment, found it to be rather charming. Shaking this very disturbing thought away, she focused on the jug of wine that he was holding onto for dear life, making a mental note to take it from him as soon as possible.

"Evening, my lord," she murmured for a lack of a better thing to respond with. "How fare thee?"

"Truly marvellous!" He shifted so he could now see her without turning around. "And how do you fare this fine eve, Tauriel?"

"Slightly less marvellous."

For some reason he seemed deeply troubled by her statement as his brows furrowed and his smile fell a little.

"We cannot have that!" He proclaimed with conviction, pressing the jug of wine into her hands without hesitation. "A drink of fine wine would surely brighten your mood."

She eyed the object in her hands with a mixture of disgust and wonder. The rather unexpected gesture took one of her problems away, since now she didn't need to rip it from the king's fingers, but it also put another obstacle in her way. Thranduil was looking at her expectantly and she knew she needed to take at least a small sip to avoid any potential quarrels, but she wasn't really willing to do it. There were times when she enjoyed a small goblet of wine, though she very rarely did so in the company of others. It was not an easy task for an elf to get drunk as their metabolisms were fast. However, wine got to Tauriel's head awfully fast. It probably had something to do with her slender and small body.

Alas, there was little choice to be made and so she took a solid swing from the jug, cringing at the strong taste and the burning sensation as the brew slid down her throat. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand when she was done, putting the jug out of Thranduil's reach in the process. He didn't seem to pay much attention to it as his eyes seemed to be focused solely on her face, almost set ablaze by some emotion she couldn't quite describe. For a long moment they held each other's gazes, but then he blinked and the burning intensity in his eyes disappeared, dissipated like fog in the face of forceful Northern winds.

A scream almost tore its way out of her mouth when the king promptly dropped onto his back to the ground a split second later, his legs still dangling over the edge of the platform. She moved to his side immediately, her hands hovering over him and yet not touching. There were boundaries she had never crossed with the Elvenking, though there were times in the past when she had yearned to slap him. She had never dared to raise her hand against him though, not until the Battle of the Five Armies at least, when she had not only raised her hand, but also her bow. The memory made her cringe to this day, especially considering the fact that he had lifted her banishment and allowed her to return to the Halls as if nothing had happened. Still, it somehow seemed improper to touch the king in any manner at all, even to check if he was still breathing. His eyes were closed, his expression still brightened by a smile, but he was motionless, as if made out of stone, and she couldn't help but fear for his wellbeing.

"I might have overindulged myself tonight."

His voice was quiet and somewhat pained, as if speaking wasn't exactly the easiest thing for him to do at the moment.

"I can see that." There was sarcasm somewhere in her voice, but he probably didn't even notice. "You have drank three jugs of wine and ate close to nothing, Sire."

He opened one eye a fraction to look at her before closing it again.

"You are worse than my son," he said after a moment of silence and the sheer ridiculousness of that statement made her chuckle.

"Why am I worse exactly?" She decided to ask as she laid down next to him, deciding that there was no harm in it. Her head was starting to spin, since she was not used to drinking Dorwinion, and the cold stone floor looked very inviting at the moment.

"He simply follows me in silence until I tire enough to go with him," he disclosed to her as he turned his head in her direction and opened his eyes so he could look at her. The light blue of his irises looked incredibly bright even when his lids were lowered. "You, on the other hand, are very annoying and… districting." He stressed the last word in such a way that it sounded as if he was mildly annoyed by its mere existence. "And you have also approached me instead of hiding away in the shadows."

It was hard to say what he meant, but Tauriel got a feeling both statement s about her were compliments, if two very different ones. She rose on her elbow so she could see him better and he turned his head as she moved, the strange glint from before returning to his eyes at once.

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"Is it true…" She hesitated for a moment. "Is it true that there will be war upon us soon?"

It had been bothering her greatly as of late. Many travellers and merchants she had encountered in the last few years talked about a shadow which grew in the South. She had long known about the darkness of Dol Guldur, but she doubted they were talking about the old fortress or what evil resided there. Their hearts were filled to the brim with fear, as if they were certain that death was almost upon them. Men were breakable beings, she knew, but she had seen the same fright in the hardened eyes of Dwarves and it was enough to worry her.

Waiting patiently for his response, she slowly run the tips of her fingers over his white-golden hair as it was pooled around him like a halo of sunlight. It was cool and silken to the touch and, after a moment of internal debate, she dared to simply run her fingers through it. The king didn't seem to be bothered by it in the slightest, which made her bolder and, soon enough, her fingertips were brushing against his temple ever so often as she smoothed his fair hair away from his face. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes, apparently quite content with her ministrations.

"It is a possibility," he finally said, his voice a low murmur. "Elrond's pity is the cause of this, though he will never admit it. The One Ring should have been destroyed that day, but he let Isildur walk away with it as if it was any other piece of jewellery… But dwelling on it will not change what had happened that day, I suppose. It is all in the past now."

She nodded in understanding even though he couldn't see it.

"Tauriel, sweet Tauriel…" She heard him whisper softly as he pulled her hand away from his temple and brought it to his lips, laying a brief kiss on her open palm.

Startled by the intimacy behind the gesture, she withdrew from his abruptly and stood up, taking a few steps to put some distance between them. She flexed her fingers, her body rigid with tension, as she observed him. He did not move for a while, but then he was up and in front of her in a blink of an eye, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his imposing frame.

"M-my lord," she stuttered, taking a few more steps backwards, only to halt when her back hit one of the pillars surrounding the platform a moment later. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she realized she was trapped.

He advanced on her slowly, taking his time and seemingly unbothered by her fearfulness. When he was once again a hair's breadth away from her, he gently cradled her head in his large hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her body shook like a leaf in either anticipation or fear, but she hardly knew which one anymore.

"Look at me," he commanded, but she refused to yield. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones in a gentle caress and she realized that the gesture was not purposeless as hot tears were running down her face, a sure sign of her distress. "Open your eyes, sweet one, and look at me."

There was something in the lilt of his voice, something soft and yet desperate at the same time, and so she obeyed him without much thought, her eyes fluttering open. Her vision was blurry with tears for a moment, but when she blinked them away, she could see him clearly and the sight of him took her breath away.

He still had that blazing look in his eyes, but now it was even more potent, making his irises glow even when his face was hidden in shadows, partially obscured by his long golden hair. His entire frame seemed to emit light as well. He was a star on the night sky, but somehow brighter and more dangerous, eternally beautiful in the most alluring of ways. She had known him to be gorgeous before, of course, though she had never imagined he could be just so fierce and glorious in his grace. Her eyes strayed from his intense gaze, settling on his parted lips for a few seconds before she looked back up, positively mortified by her reactions to his touch.

"I have thought about you," he said as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. His breath smelled of sweet wine, which reminded her that he was still under the influence of alcohol and probably only partially aware of what he was saying and doing. Yet his words still made her heart beat wildly in her chest, something akin to excitement almost threatening to overwhelm her. "I think about you still. I cannot stop. You are in my mind, in my soul, and in my heart, Tauriel. Always. Like a flame that cannot be extinguished. I have tried… Valars only know, I have tried to free myself from you, sweet one, but it is all but impossible."

"My lord, I…" Tauriel whispered, her voice almost too quiet to be heard. She had no words to say at this point, no thoughts to share. Her mind was an entanglement of utter confusion. What she felt for her king – what she had always felt for him in secret, in the safety of her soul and heart – was not proper. It was a sinful emotion, born out of admiration and many lonely loveless nights. There was naught she could offer him, for she was, as he had told her time and time again, just a lowly Silvan elf.

"You do not want to pledge yourself to me," she finally said. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I have nothing to offer you, nothing to give…"

"It is just you, Tauriel, as you stand here before me, that I want," was his response. She could see the corners of his mouth lift into a soft smile. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"You are out of your wits."

"I'm not."

"You must be," she said brokenly, almost pleadingly, unable or unwilling to believe that he was honest in his declaration. "Otherwise…"

"Otherwise my words would be true and the truth in them terrifies you. Why?"

Of course it terrified her! How could it not? He had never even hinted that he felt anything for her, besides respect for her skill and dedication to her work. Then again, his unexpected pardon after her betrayal had raised a few eyebrows among the elves of Mirkwood's court and a countless amount of questions inside Tauriel's head. Thranduil was not a king prone to giving second chances left and right, and yet he didn't hesitate to give it to her, even after she had all but threatened to take his life. Was it because of his feelings? Was there truly something in his ice cold heart that was still alive and warm? Was she the cause of it?

"Because you cannot possibly love me, my lord."

"And yet I do," he said firmly. "Most adoringly and passionately."

He kissed her then, hungrily and hard, as if he was starving and she was the only thing that could quench his hunger, and he tasted like every dark thought she has ever had. The sweetness of wine was still strong on his tongue as he tasted her, abandoning any pretence at decorum. It was not a kiss of a shy lover, not a press of lips against lips that was innocent in its simplicity. This was an inferno of suppressed lust and raging love, the very essence of Thranduil's being delivered to her in the most intense manner possible. He did not hesitate to push her harder against the pillar, letting go of her face and hooking her legs over his hips in one smooth motion. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. One of her hands fisted in the material of his outer robe right between his shoulder blades while the other was buried in his hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers entwined in the silken strands and tugging at them every so often.

They changed the angle, gasping for breath when they parted for a brief moment. Then, after another bruising kiss, his lips left hers, moving swiftly along the line of her jaw and, from there on, further down, until they found their new purpose at the base of her throat. She gasped when he bit the sensitive skin there, softening the terse pain with his warm lips but a second later.

The sound made her startle and she realized with a start that they were still on the platform in plain view. With much difficulty, she pulled Thranduil's head away from her neck.

"We should go somewhere else," she said, her eyes darting around as if expecting someone to appear suddenly from around the corner. She didn't miss the amused look he send her, though he seemed to agree with her at least to some degree, because he let her go.

Her legs quivered under her weight. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, vaguely aware that the king was laughing softly at her predicament. When she was finally able to move without risking an impromptu meeting with the stone floor, Thranduil took her hand and lead her up one of the staircases. She followed him quietly, knowing quite well that he was taking her to his private rooms, because she had walked this path many times before in the previous centuries, though never for this particular purpose.

On one occasion they have almost crossed paths with a group of four guards that were escorting a few drunk members of the court to their quarters. It was solely due to Thranduil's surprisingly fast reflex that they weren't seen, as he had somehow managed to pull them into a dark alcove a split second before the group rounded the corner. As they waited for them to pass by, she was acutely aware of their close proximity. Pressed against his body in the tight space with little to no room between them made her very aware of the fact that he was very much anticipating what was to come once they reached his rooms. She felt the hard evidence of his desire pressed against her lower abdomen and her cheeks flushed, when he looked at her, a devious smile stretching across his face when he took notice her slight discomfort. He bend down as much as he could, sealing their lips in a brief, but searing kiss.

After they were sure the guards and their charges were far enough, which took some time, considering the inebriated state of the later, they pressed on and managed to arrive at the doorstep of Thranduil's quarters within minutes. Drunk on both wine and her newly awaken feelings for the Elvenking, she followed after him into his rooms without much thought, shivering despite herself at the prospect of spending the night in his arms.

Translations:
Mereth Nuin Giliath - The Feast of Starlight