The intricate crystal piece felt cold against his fingers, landing with a deaf echo as he patiently moved it across the board. Tadion was lost. Only glancing at the board could confirm that. All the heavenly crafted crystal pieces were in his favor, there was no way in Arda that Tadion could win this game now. The Crown Prince of Mirkwood had to suppress a laugh as his younger brother's narrowed blue eyes scanned the board back and forth for what seemed like the hundredth's time, as if trying to find a way out of the mess he himself had made. His moves were always so predictable.

"Do not throw me that look, Ar" Tadion's voice sounded slightly annoyed, even though his sky blue eyes did not turn up to look at him, still carefully studying every piece on the board sitting in between the two of them.

"What look?" He let out a single low laugh, watching as Tadion's eyes only seemed to narrow more in frustration. Why would simply not move any piece instead of keep analyzing the board? Literally any piece. It would not make a difference now. He had already lost.

"The 'I am Ar and can perfectly predict all of your moves so you already lost the game because I always win' look" Oh yes, Tadion was clearly annoyed now, but he was not angry, his face contorting in a very exaggerated, and bad, impersonation of him, not able to hide his mocking smirk as he spoke. And what was he talking about? He was not throwing him a 'look'.

"Yes you are, now stop it, Ar" He raised both of his eyebrows at Tadion's words, playfully glaring at him before patiently crossing his arms and leaning back comfortably against the back of the cushioned chair. He let his eyes dance over the room for a second, carefully tracing each and every item in the overly large Family Sitting Room he already knew by memory. The welcoming fire crackled softly on the grand fireplace, its flames twirling and dancing languidly across de room. The wall long arched windows had been left closed against the cool night air, the rich silk curtains perfectly tied open to the sides.

And still Tadion did not seem to be able to make a decision of which piece to move.

"You already lost, Tadion." He spoke matter-of-factly, his voice always the same serene steady sound, even though his lips curved up in a teasing smile, watching as it was now him the one to receive a poisonous glare form those ever-readable blue eyes.

" 'You already lost, Tadion' " His younger brother rolled his eyes in a very un-princely manner, face once contorting in a mocking impersonation, resembling much the mockery an elfling would perform of a very disliked tutor. But it was not unusual for Tadion to mock him playfully whenever they were in private settings, especially when he was losing at something. "I have not lost yet. The game is not over."

"Then by Elbereht make any move and let us end it faster." Now he was the one sounding slightly annoyed, even though his face remained as patient as ever, watching as his younger brother casually, not even paying much attention now.

"Fine." A new look crossed Tadion, smile curving up in a mischievous grin Arahaelon knew all too well to never trust, slender fingers suddenly grabbing at his crystal knight and sliding it nearly six spaces across de board, knocking out Arahaelon's Queen.

"Cheater!" The Crown Prince exclaimed, unable now to contained his laughter at the absurdity of the move, bewildered eyes looking at his now smirking younger brother. "The knight does not move in a straight line!"

"Well, I want it to move in a straight line." Tadion argued in return, his words not making any sense at all, only making The Crown Prince laugh more, his mouth slightly agap.

"Very well." If Tadion thought he could outwit him with an improvised move of the game, he could play along as well. Before he could get Tadion any chance to register his words, his fingers were already curling around his own bishop, moving the piece all across de board, over other pieces that were on the way and knocking out Tadion's King.

"There, I won."

"You cannot do that!" Now it was Tadion's turn to protest, his eyes still gleaming with mischief as he shook his head forcefully, stressing his words.

"I did the same thing you did." He defended himself, still patient and calmed, a thing that he could see was only making Tadion protest even more.

"No, it was not! There is a limit to cheating, I just moved it in a different way, but you just broke all the rules of the game! You jumped over everything!" Tadion's words got lost in between his disbelieved giggles, as not even him could believe what was coming out of his mouth.

"There is no such thing as a limit to cheating! It's still cheating! And you cheated first!" Oh, they were bickering like elflings now. His father would be laughing at them both. And yet he always loved these moments with Tadion, where his younger brother always wanted to get his way.

"But I cheated decently, you just went all over the place"

"How, pray tell does anyone cheat decently?!"

"Why are my two, of age, sons, the first and second in line to the crown, fully educated Princes, arguing like elflings?" His father's voice echoed suddenly around spacious room, just as his ears caught the deaf sound of the large wooden doors clicking closed, long rich robes trailing behind the lightest of footsteps. And yet, he did not need to turn around to hear the faint smile ghosting behind his father's words, the words far from being chastising.

"Because Ar cheated, Ada." Tadion spoke quickly, his infinite blue eyes still carrying that mischievous sparkle as they turned up to look at the King, his voice dripping with an innocence that only the foolest of fools would believe to be truthful. And their father was no fool. Not that Tadion had even half expected his words to be believed in any case.

"Or was it because you, my son, were losing, again?" One thick eyebrow rose high on the King's brow as he spoke, his face the same perfectly composed expression. But Arahaelon knew his father way too well to detect the joyful, equally playful gleam concealed in his ice blue eyes, the mighty King dissolving right before their eyes as the father appeared.

"Arahaelon, come here." His father's soft, yet authoritative voice called behind him as he made his way to the elegant oak desk on the far end of the room, rich deep blue robes trailing silently behind him. And the Crown Prince did not need to be told twice, immediately following his father to the desk. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Tadion proceeding to carefully put away all of the crystal chess pieces back where they belonged, leaving the board clean and ready for whoever wished to play next.

"May I leave, Ada?" He heard Tadion asking politely from the small table by the fire, and even though he knew that neither him nor Tadion really needed permission to leave the piece, it was more out of customary respect, as their father had barely just arrived.

"Of course, Tadion." Came the King's gentle reply, offering his son a peaceful smile before indicating with an elegant movement of the hand for the Crown Prince to take the seat directly across from him. Without questioning it, Arahaelon sat down, having done this same move so many countless times before, patiently waiting for his father to speak.

This time, however, instead of speaking, his father merely gracefully slid a piece of parchment in his direction, not even turning to look at his son grabbing it before already taking his exquisite quill in his hand, starting to scribble in his slanted calligraphy on the piles of papers left on the desk.

"What is this?" Even as his face remained as calm and impassive, the Crown Prince was sure he was not able to conceal his sudden confusion from showing in his voice as he carefully hold the piece of parchment up in his fingers. And yet, his father did not look up from his work, his hand still dancing graciously with the quill.

"I do not know." Was the only reply he got, as if his father was not really interested in the question. "Read it and then tell me."

What? More confused that before, but never one to argue without real cause, Arahaelon let his emerald eyes carefully travel down the neat calligraphy of the parchment, quickly skimming through it from start to finish.

"It is a request for a trading agreement." He commented finally, forest green eyes turning to look at his father once more, searching for the ice blue eyes that never met his, the King still concentrated on whatever it was he was writing.

"So it seems." Was the only reply he got, and suddenly he knew his father had already been aware of the contents of said parchment.

"What are you going to do with this?" He questioned, the thing yellowish page still held carefully between his fingers, once again searching for his father to look up, but the older elf remained immersed in his task of writing, as it not too interested in the topic.

"I do not know." His father's voice was as calmed as before, not really cooperating with any answer. "What am I going to with it?"

"Are you not going to sign it?" He asked, understanding where this conversation was headed but not really wanting it to be the case.

"Should I sign it?" For the first time his father's eyes turned up to look at him, always gentle, yet for once not giving a single clue as to what he was expecting as an answer. He was expecting him to give the answer.

"Well….yes." He said, not really meaning it, but for once just wanting to hear his father's thoughts on the matter instead of simply being questioned. And yet, to his utter surprise and unlike anything the King had done before when discussing real dealings with Arahaelon, his father absentmindedly took the parchment in his own hands, silently moving the quill to the bottom of the page, where it yet awaited to be signed.

"Wait." Arahaelon spoke quickly, forest green eyes now more confused, questioning his father. "Were you really going to sing it only because I said to?"

"Yes." His father's voice was as gentle as before, speaking as it was the most obvious answer in Arda. "Should I not sign it then?"

So that was it. He did not needed to be told to understand exactly what it was that his father was expecting of him this time. The decision was his.

"Have you read it yourself?" Was the only thing he asked, hoping that his father would at least say yes.

"No. I have not read the terms of the agreement" Valar, why? Was he expected then to do this decision entirely by himself? "You read them, think about it and tell me whether or not I should sign. Whatever you say, I will do."

"Will you at least read it after I make a decision and verify if you agree or not?" His father always did that. The few times that he had asked Arahaelon to make a decision like this one, he had at least guided him through it. However, he already felt this case would be different.

"No." Once again his father's voice was as calmed as before, as if once again his answer was the most obvious one. "You decide and tell me what to do."

"And if I do not wish to?" His voice was not daring, not once impolite or disrespectful, and yet he knew his father could easily read behind his perfectly composed expression, read the sudden anger he felt at the request. He was not yet King. He did not want the burden of these decisions thrown upon him yet. But it was not up to him, was it? Just like it had not been up to his father to become King.

And yet his father's gaze remained equally as gentle, not once reacting to his son's sudden change in mood, as if not even him ever wished this burden upon his own son. Arahaelon knew his father was merely teaching him, but he did not want to be taught this way!

"Do not second guess yourself. Simply read it, think, and make a decision. This is mall to what you have already done. You have already taken full control over the realm, twice before, my son." His father's words were encouraging, voice still soft, and yet they did nothing to calm his rising anger, anger that although it never showed on his face was sure his father could very easily pick on.

He had indeed ruled the realm twice before, and it was an experience he did not wish to repeat, for in both cases he had not had a choice, in both occasion his father had been unable to rule. It had been years since then, and he still remembered them all too vividly, all the succession paperwork the advisors questioning about everything, the panic in the air at the possibility that his father would not survive the loss of his wife. The possibility of his father dying had been so likely, so horrible, so painful that the Council had even had everything prepared in case he needed to take over the Crown, everything. It had been like living through a torturous nightmare. And even through everything, he had not once been allowed to loose his temper, his self control, always expected to act gracious, to never show hesitation before making any decision, even as he had had to just in case sign the papers of his own succession to the throne.

And the first time he had taken over….no that time he did not even wish to remember. It had been after that night….

"That I have done it in the past does not mean I wish to do it ever again." His words were colder than usual, this time not giving his father a chance to reply before he snatched the parchment from the elegant oaken desk, his feet already hurrying towards the door. He would apologize later.

The King did not call out after him as he made his way to the door, barely acknowledging the guards with a nod of his head as he exited the piece. And yet he knew no one would be able to tell he was angry, no one would be able to read the boiling ire that he felt rushing through his veins, his face always serene, eyes ever impenetrable. A Prince.

He let his feet elegantly guide him through the maze of majestic hallways in long strides, the formal olive green robes he had needed to wear that day for the morning Council Meeting silently brushing the polished marble floor behind him. And suddenly the elegant silver circlet resting over his head felt heavier than it ever had before. The decision was a trivial one, either ryes or no, and he knew he would be able to make it easily once he fully read the terms of agreement, but it was not that what bothered him at the moment. It was everything.

But what bothered him the most, more than that, more than any decision the King could have possibly ask him make, was the gentle song of trees outside. He could hear it clearer and clearer as he approached the large terraces of the Royal Wing, the sound like a sweet lulling melody, a chorus of voices more beautiful than any other in Arda, it was the sound of starlight. It was a sound he knew all too well, and yet a sound that for years now had stopped being the one he longed to hear, the one he longed to reach. It could no longer touch it, it would no longer whisper secrets to him, unable to trespass the now overly evident distance.

He absently dropped himself in once of the comfortable chaises by the edge of the terraces, closing his eyes as he focused on listening to the enchanting song outside. And only years before he could have done much more than merely hear it. He could have responded….but there was no point in thinking about the past now. He would not be able to respond ever again, and he had come to terms with that. That part of him was lost, and the mark of tiny fingerprints left burned over his left arm was the constant reminder of it. It had been nobody's fault, but by the Valar he wished it had never happened.

The delicate sound of footsteps woke him from his thoughts, his head immediately turning in the direction of the sound, eyes easily landing on the approaching figure. Indilene seemed to stop her march the minute that she saw him, as if suddenly realizing that her place of destination was already occupied. For a second he was about to ask what she was doing in the Private Terraces, but he quickly remember that some high-ranking families –hers included- had permission to these terraces, although never the interior chambers. She nodded her head shortly, respectfully, her long ashen hair brushing the ample sleeves of her silvery blue dress in the process. And then, silently, as if she could read his mood, she started to turn away, as if deciding to head to a different place.

"Have you come to give a second attempt at your horrible drawing?" He found himself speaking, not really knowing why was he doing it, but suddenly feeling that her company would be better than being completely alone here. She was not any of his siblings who would easily be able to read his anger, and she was not a servant who would merely comply to everything he said. And yet, even though they sounded distant, his words were not harsh, and he hoped they had not sounded offending. It was so unlike him to blurt out at a stranger like this, no matter how composed and serene his voice sounded. It had been nearly three weeks since he had last seen her, when he ran over her in the gardens, and he did not know why that was the only thing he could think of saying.

"No." Her voice was casual, and for a second he was not able to read whether or not she had been offended by his words, seeming not to have cared at all. Her previously open and welcoming hazel eyes suddenly impossible to read, still so gentle and warm, but a mystery. "I gave up on that."

She stood there, awkwardly by the entrance of the terrace, as if not really wanting to turn away but somehow being able to tell that he himself did not know whether or not he wanted company. She was beautiful, but in her own delicately plain way, her features not stunning but soft. He silently turned to face at the forest again, deciding not to pay her much attention.

"Should the Crown Prince not be at the dinner table with the rest of the Royals at the moment?" Her easy voice broke the silence, floating casually in the still air as he heard her footsteps silently walking into the terrace, not to where he sat but to lean against the delicate railing some distance away, close yet far enough. And yet her words, even though they carried no malice in the slightest, did nothing to improve his mood.

"I decide where I should be." He replied, his eyes once again impenetrable, not turning to look at her as his voice remained the calmed tone of a Prince, kind yet guarded. And for a long second silence settled once more in the night-lit terrace. Once again she did not seem bothered by his words, and he let his eyes spare one more glance in her direction. Her back was to him, her attention seeming to be drawn to the forest outside as she leaned casually over the intricate silver railing, the long strands of her ash colored hair looking silver under the sparse light.

Long moments passed in silence until he saw her move again, slowly turning around to face him, yet not moving closer, this time leaning back against the railing instead of forward. And for a second he found her green-stroked eyes looking at him intently, patient, welcoming like infinite seas that were at the same time so unreachable, and he let her look, knowing that his own eyes remained as impenetrable as before, she would not find whatever she looked in them.

"Are you always so distant, my Lord?" Her words surprised him, but he did not show it, her eyes not even seeming to react to what she said, but he did not look away from her studying gaze, daring her to be the one to look away first. And yet once again there was no malice in her words, no accusation whatsoever, simply curiosity, as if it was a question that she was really trying to find an answer for.

"You do not know me." He said shortly, still daring her to look away, leaving no space for argument, yet never once being rude or impolite, merely regal, tall.

"Does anyone?" The question hung hollowly in the air for a while, definitely not the words he had expecting to hear, and yet the more it registered in his head, the more that he himself wanted to find an answer for it. Did anyone? Apart from his siblings and his father, perhaps Lossenel the most, but other than that…..

"No." And he smiled faintly as he spoke, not really able to point out what he was feeling exactly, but knowing that it was the truth. And why was he telling her this? She seemed friendly enough….

She did not say anything else, as if once again being easily able to pick on his mood, turning around to once more face the forest outside, still remaining in the terrace, yet far enough from him not be obviously called company. And he did not speak in return, just sitting there in silence, once again inside his own thoughts as the hours danced slowly before his eyes, the trees swaying to the tune of their own song….

So here is chapter 2! A little sooner than I had anticipated. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Thank you so much to my reviewers form last chapter: Jibril, Jasperslittlesister and Teddy 2014 ! Your words mean a lot to me and I can't thank you enough!

Also this story is dedicated to Martine9295 simply because you are amazing!

Love,

Elena