She knew the day would come too soon. In the life of elves, years passed as minutes but she still didn't let herself believe that it would be so swiftly. She knew when they announced Mithrandir's arrival that everything was going to change. Her bare feet padded softly against the stone halls as she and her younger sister made their way towards the throne room.

When they entered, her brother's look was tense as he listened to Gandalf speak. She and her sister exchanged a look, and then she turned moving towards her twin, who sat on the throne.

"Mithrandir? It has been a while," Alyra said, stepping up the stairs and standing next to her brother. She rested her hand on his arm and glanced at him to reassure him she was there to support whatever news was being delivered.

Gandalf bowed his head to the princess and smiled, but it was solemn and did not reach his eyes. "Alyra, you are still your mother's image." He turned, looking to their younger sister and bowed to her as well. "Syral."

Their brother brought back the conversation, placing his hand on his Alyra's, where it rested on his arm. "Gandalf you must tell her."

Alyra's brow furrowed and glanced at her brother, and then to her sister, Syral.

Gandalf sighed. "I have to go face the unknown Necromancer at Dol Guldor. Something is going on, unseen even to Lady Galadriel. I set Thorin Oakensheild and his company on its way through Mirkwood. I instructed them to stay on the Elven road."

Syral and Alyra shook their heads, knowing where this might be going and let echoed Gandalf's sigh. "They strayed from the path," Syral finished for him.

Gandalf took a deep breath and nodded. "I know you sent Maeman with them, but even she couldn't keep them from straying and she stayed with them. They were captured, and for whatever reason deemed in his fancy that day, Thranduil threw them in the dungeons, including Maeman."

Alyra stiffened and her jaw clenched as her twin took her hand in his as comfort. "What?! He imprisoned Maeman as well? Someone he has known for eons! Someone who has fought with and for him?" She practically snarled and as Gandalf nodded, she took a staggering breath in to try and calm the rage.

"Alyra we have to go," Syral said gently to her sister, trying not to provoke her anymore.

Alyra looked to Syral and nodded. "Yes we do"

Gandalf held up his hand to garner their attention and turned his gaze to Aliyan.

"We think it might be part of the reason he did what he did," Aliyan said, looking to his twin.

Alyra glanced to her brother and Gandalf, pulling her lips in a menacing line. "He wants my attention, he wants answers. Well, he shall have his wish granted. He shall see me again and my troops, and my temper," she seethed.

"Alyra, my dear, can you blame him after what you have done, what has happened between you two?" Gandalf tried to reason with her. "Things that he was not even allowed to know or remember," he added gently.

Syral came to stand by her sister to support her. She might not have understood her reasons, but she respected them after knowing Thranduil so long.

Alyra took her other sibling's hand and her gaze fell to the floor, her rage calming some, knowing that Gandalf was right. "I know. I did what I had to, Mithrandir. The Avari are not like the rest of our kin and I have known Thranduil too long. I knew the outcome, I couldn't risk it with our lineage, anyway." She shook her head.

Gandalf smiled gently. "I have learned well lately that we never truly know the whole outcome. Have some faith, my dear."

Alyra raised her chin, inhaling. "I have always held my hope of what he could be, but the faith in him faltered many years ago," she answered their dear old friend. "I will go help Thorin." She turned to her brother. "Be ready. I will send word if I need more help. Take care of them." Her twin nodded.

Syral stepped forward then, resting her hand on Gandalf's arm. "Will you be safe going to Dol Guldor alone?" she asked, concerned.

Gandalf smiled and patted her hand. "I have someone to call upon, if needed. Worry not, my friend."

The girls nodded at his reply and then began to prepare for their journey, rallying the troops they would take with them. They knew they would have to leave them at the border just in case and hide them so Thranduil would be unaware that they had brought so many. She might be able to get them out without a fight, then shook her head. No Alyra knew better concerning the Elven king.

Night had fallen over the woods once more. He had attended dinner with his son. Legolas was still unhappy over the fact that they had imprisoned Maeman, that they had thrown their own kin into the dungeons. He had reasons; though he only gave one, there were a few. The others he kept to himself. He was suspect to believe that his son knew the others.

Alyra.

Alyra would return; he knew word would reach her, wherever she may be. Whether Aliyan or Syral, maybe Alyra herself had sent Maeman with the Dwarves, they knew of the quest and that they would pass through his realm. They sent Maeman, hoping to gain safe passage—he had gathered that much. Aliyan and Alyra thought of everything in battle tactics, not unlike himself. Warriors did that, and they were commanders and nobility.

He had been there for Alyian and Alyra's crowning when their father had sailed after the battle of the Last Alliance. They were two halves of a whole—twins. Closer than any, and very protective of their younger sibling, Syral, who was only their half-sister.

The Avari or 'the unwilling', the dark elves, were an odd race compared to the rest of their kin. Thranduil had learned that quickly when they met, planning for the war of the Last Alliance. They had poured forth from the woods of Rhun and Fangorn to train and help fight Sauron's forces. They were warriors that rivaled the Woodland realm; his warriors were only as good as they were due to the centuries they spent training with the Avari. They exceeded even Elrond with healing, and they had trained him in that. Those were their strengths. They had drawbacks, though—quite a few. One of them being their need for secrets, to remain a mystery. They spoke in riddles that nearly rivaled Mithrander.

Their need to increase their numbers led to many not marrying but taking many partners and bearing children, except the nobility. Aliyan, Alyra, and Syral did not because their line had to be pure. As with any royal lineage, they could not have bastards everywhere. The king of the Avari had remarried, when the majority of elves did not. With his second wife came Syral. If Alyra and Aliyan had no children or perished, it would fall to Syral to run their realm. If either of the twins did have children, Syral would be out of the running—not that she had seemed to ever mind.

Avari were many things; some things he still did not understand, such as what had brought about their departure from his realm. They had practically just disappeared, yet he knew they had been to other places in Middle Earth since then and shared in things during that time. He had missed Alyra. She had practically raised Legolas after the death of his wife in Angmar, had been with him nearly sixteen hundred years, and then she'd simply vanished. Legolas had been far more understanding than he had. He'd never understood how; she had been like a mother to him. Syral had trained Taurial and she, along with Alyra, had become great friends.

The king of the Woodland Realm looked at his goblet of wine, the Dorwinion he had grown to love too much and sighed, but gave a small strained smile. She would be as angry and fiery as a Balrog if she showed up and he was certain that she would. Yet, it wasn't a fight he hadn't had with her before. Their tempers were too alike sometimes, whereas her brother had the patience of Elrond, Alyra had the same fire and ill temperament that he did. How they became such good friends was astonishing, yet most of the time, it was a love-hate bond. He took a drink from his glass and set it down, looking back out his balcony.