Violet was as free and wild as her mother had wanted to be before her marriage. By the time she was two, both her parents could see the spirit within her could never be easily broken. She fought about everything, and had to have her way. She didn't seem to mind the slight awkwardness around her parents, or at least didn't seem aware of it.
Legolas and Idril sent most of their time with her when they weren't busy. Dearon always smiled at her, whether she was looking at him or not. Cílion, on the other hand, didn't seem to really notice her. As much time as he spent with his mother, Violet spent with her father. She often took naps in his studies while he was working, or sat on his lap in the throne room. She had him wrapped around her tiny, little finger. She simply just had to look at him, and he would give her whatever she wanted.
In the middle of December, When Cílion was nine and Violet was four, Dawn was pregnant, with the babe due any day. She hadn't protested to having more children, but she didn't like it. Anyways, Dawn wasn't feeling well. She was actually quite ill, with deep coughs and a very high fever. She at first said it was nothing, but everyone else could clearly see that wasn't the case. So she had been ordered to stay in bed until given permission to leave by both the healers and Thranduil. He knew that she had to be get well and regain her strength if she was going to bare their child. And he was right.
On the 24th, early in the morning, her water broke. For hours she labored away trying to bring her poor elfling into the world, but she wasn't progressing well and didn't have the strength. Thranduil was worried that she would die, and the child would die with her.
"Still no progress," said one healer.
"It will not end well," said another. Thranduil knew something was wrong. Births did not take this long with no progress. "If the opening does not expand more soon, we may just have to give up hope." This infuriated him, but he knew the healer was right. In just a few short hours, Dawn had lost nearly all her strength. He knew that she needed help, and knew exactly what he had to do.
"Hold onto something," he instructed as he grabbed a knife. "And do not scream too loudly. I am truly sorry for this." He went and stood at the end of the bed by her feet before reaching down and cutting around the opening. Dawn screamed so loudly, he thought the forest would collapse. He kept moving it around, expanding the hole, until it was just big enough for their child to all but fall out of her. He looked down at it and smiled. "It is a girl."
He should have kept staring down at the baby, instead of looking up at her. Dawn was pale, her body was limp, and her eyes were unfocused. Blood flowed freely from her lower body. Thranduil frowned and sat next to her before gently shaking her. Nothing happened. He shook her again, but she still did not move. His lip quivered and his eyes watered as he laid their baby in her limp arms.
"Her name is Joy," he whispered to Dawn. He could tell she was not breathing. Joy began to cry, but he did not notice. All he could do was stare at his dead queen. "Please come back. Please do not leave me." Still, no reply. For the first time, in a long time, Thranduil openly cried. "Come back! Come back! I cannot lose another! I refuse to lose another!" Joy cried louder as he got louder. Legolas slowly made his way into the room and picked up Joy before leaving with her. Thranduil, out of pure desperation to get his queen back, pressed a firm kiss to her cold, dead lips. When she still did not awake, he simply laid next her and cried.
Then suddenly, she felt warmer. He sat up and noticed how different she looked. Her skin seemed smoother, her hair seemed longer, and her ears seemed pointier. Like elf ears… He placed a hand to her chest and smiled. Her heart was beating. He smiled wider and kissed her forehead. He was happy. He was content. His beautiful queen had survived death and was coming back stronger than ever as an elf.