Another BIG thank you to all of my fantastic readers who reviewed the last chapter: the Enchanted Stream, The Lead Mare, Amber-Raven-Cahill, Rousdower, Wagthedog, meldisil, camimac, Oriana5, Montara, haha21, LabyFan23, Trich, Aurelia Dresche, K. Rayne, Death to Elves, Raleighlane, Spriggan, mengtoreality, TierneyMacDonald, Wunderkind4006, crazykenz, AdalineXC, Mirkwood warrior.

Chapter 24: Diplomatic

A Thousand Years ago…

Thranduil stopped slouching in his chair when Elarien came in looking for him in his study. Truth be told, she never sought him out, so he was more than a little surprised to see her.

"Elarien, what brings you here?" he said, straightening up.

She primly sat down across from him, folded her hands. "Thranduil, we need to talk."

He flicked his eyes over her, hated that he still found her so beautiful, so desirable. "I missed you last night at the dinner for the Elder Council," he said and reached for his glass of wine.

"I am sorry," she said, plucking at the end of a long curl. She did not offer any explanations for her absence.

"More than a few people asked after you," he prompted as he rose to refill his glass.

"I want us to have a baby," she told him.

He stilled at the sideboard, wine forgotten. When he finally found his voice, he turned and eyed her curiously. "What brings this on?"

"It's just time, don't you think?" She looked down at the ring, his ring on her hand. "Everyone expects us to."

Thranduil set the bottle down with a sharp crack. He smiled humorlessly. "Everyone as in your father?"

Her voice was timid. "He wants a grandchild, Thranduil."

Thranduil sat back down, leaned toward her. "No, what he wants is to secure his house's position in court, Elarien."

She nodded, and Thranduil thought he saw her lip quiver. "Well, I just thought that maybe we should try."

"Try," Thranduil echoed her. "You do know what that will involve, Elarien."

She reached forward and touched the left side of his face, ran her fingers from his cheek to his neck. "I am sorry for being so distant," she murmured. "It was just such a shock—your injuries—to see you that way when you came home from the war." She had not tended to him, would not be in the same room with him; of course, her father excused her actions to Thranduil by saying that his queen was too gentle to witness the atrocities of war.

Her shallow excuses meant little to him, but Thranduil felt his bond with her pulse beneath her touch, and against his better judgment, he wanted her, needed her—even though he knew she was using him. A means to an end.

He stood up and tugged her to her feet, pulling her against him. "Let's go then," he said, his eyes dark.

"Now?" she squeaked.

"Yes. Now," Thranduil said and led her to his chambers.

This time things might be different. He needed to believe they would be. A fresh start. A baby. A family. Their fragile bond bloomed warm in his chest from the touch of her soft hand in his, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

A fortnight before Yule

Clouds hung low over the trees by the practice field where Thranduil half-heartedly went through the motions of practicing with Althirn, one of his Royal Guards and one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom. He half suspected that Althirn knew he was distracted but was too polite to call him on it. Thranduil missed the old sword instructor from his youth, who was exacting, ruthless, and completely merciless.

"My lord, may I suggest a quick break?" Althirn requested and then barely waited for his king to nod before hurrying over to the side of the practice field where he had left his water skin.

Puzzled, Thranduil watched him go until he felt the sharp prick of a blade prodding him in the back. He moved enough to be out of the sword's reach and then turned, amusement playing in his eyes. "Here for a lesson, naurenniel?" he asked her, taking in her firm grip on her sword, which she charmingly still aimed at him, and the dangerous glint in her eyes.

She jabbed her sword toward his halls. "Why did Galadhor just inform me that I have Queen Lessons?"

Thranduil glanced around the field. No one paid them much attention. Yet. He and Narylfiel regularly sparred with each other in the past, although perhaps in better moods. "Let us go discuss this matter somewhere more private?" he suggested.

She angled her sword at him and narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about this last night?"

Before she could move, Thranduil caught her blade with his own in a peal of metal scraping against metal. He forced her shorter sword down and leaned toward her. "I didn't want to worry you."

Narylfiel stepped back, disbelief on her face before her lips thinned into a tight line. "Worry me?" She swung her sword toward him again and waited.

Thranduil knew what she wanted.

He checked the next swing of her blade just hard enough to send her stumbling back. Narylfiel paused long enough to adjust her grip as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, her lips curving up into an almost smile.

She attacked first.

Thranduil blocked it.

Narylfiel spun away and swiped toward his side. She was in no way close to being the best swordsman in the guard, but she always fought to win, like she really might want to run him through.

Thranduil blocked her again and twisted away from another angled slash to his side. Ah, this was what he had been missing earlier in his practice with Althirn.

She advanced and then he pushed back.

It was push and pull, give and take, vicious and swift, and Thranduil's blood pounded as he met her strike for strike, blow for blow.

Until at last he knocked the sword from her hands.

He watched her pick it up from the frozen ground. Two bright spots stained her cheeks, but she still seemed paler than he would have liked. Thranduil motioned for her to follow him to one of the benches where there was a pitcher of water.

The dying light had most of the warriors packing up their weapons to return to their homes. The king poured her a cup of water, watched her take a sip.

"Rivenion agreed to help tutor you on your future role as queen," he said.

Narylfiel sprayed the water out of her mouth. "What? Why!"

Thranduil gracefully sat down on the bench, dabbed the droplets from his face with the edge of his cape. "I can think of a few minor areas, Narylfiel. Nothing to be upset about."

She sat down next to him with a huff. "Of course, I am upset. Why didn't you tell me this last night when we were alone?

He reached for her hands and warmed them with his own. "We were planning the Yule feast, and I don't know, you were just so happy. I didn't want to spoil the mood."

She pulled away, crossed her arms. "The mood of you slipping your hand under my—"

Thranduil interrupted. "I may have been wrong to keep it from you."

"May have been?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "And Rivenion? He does not like me, Thranduil. Not even a little bit."

"I know," he said. He reached his arm along the back of the bench and rubbed her shoulder. "But he is very influential. His support for our marriage would go a long way. Please try, naurenniel."

She sighed and stood up. "Best out of three? If I win, I don't have to go to queen lessons."

The next day.

Narylfiel pumped her legs, willing herself to go faster. Of course Rivenion had to choose a location on the opposite end of the king's halls. When at last she saw the door, she slowed her pace and took a moment to smooth her hair down before she entered the room.

"You are late," Rivenion said. He looked up from a small book and then quickly scratched something inside before snapping it shut.

"My apologies," Narylfiel replied. She had tried to sound sincere, but it came out sounding not very sorry at all. She would need to work on that.

"Let me make something very clear to you, young one," Rivenion said. His thin eye brows creased into a 'v.' "I am here at my lord's command. For reasons unknown to the Council, King Thranduil has decided to remarry…" he paused and pursed his lips as if the idea was distasteful, "you."

Narylfiel pushed her hair over her shoulder. "You could have said 'no.'"

Rivenion stood up and stuffed the book into an inside pocket of his robes. "As could you, Lady Narylfiel. You are very young, impetuous, smart-mouthed, ill-mannered, uncouth, and blindingly naïve."

She winced.

"But a fool, you are not," he said with an appraising look. "There are those on the council who would not wish to see a queen by Thranduil's side."

"Who?" Narylfiel asked, her mind already shifting through the possible members as her tutor walked over to her.

"If you cannot figure it out, then you are not nearly as perceptive as I first thought," Rivenion said. "First lesson: Always know who your friends and enemies are."

"And which would you be?" She lifted her eyes to meet his. "A friend?"

Rivenion sniffed. "I am here, aren't I?" He studied her for a second. "I was going to address this later, but it seems as though the matter requires more…immediate attention."

She reminded herself to check her temper, reminded herself that she promised Thranduil that she would try.

"Narylfiel, however much we might wish otherwise, appearances matter." Rivenion gently took her arm in his hand. "What is this unsightly bruising on the inside of your arm, young lady?"

Narylfiel pulled her arm away, tugged the fabric on her half-sleeves over her elbow to cover it up. "Oh, it's probably just a bruise from when I sparred with the king last night."

"I may be more of a scholar than a warrior, but I have a hard time believing that King Thranduil would be so careless as to mark his beloved in such a way," Rivenion pointed out.

"It's hardly worth fussing over. I've had much worse as a Forest Guard," Narylfiel said, rolling her eyes.

Rivenion snapped open his notebook, scrawled another note and then shoved it back into his robe pocket. He coolly walked over to the chamber's open door shut it gently and then turned. His eyes flashed.

"That is the problem with young people today! You don't believe anything is worth the fuss! Not your appearance and certainly not tradition!

Don't you think it's wrong that I should care more about how people see you as Queen than you do?"

Narylfiel caught herself mid-eye roll and bit her lip. She swallowed an angry retort and watched his face darken to an unpleasant shade of red.

"Queens do not roll their eyes, Lady Narylfiel! Queens do not run down the hall, or show up to meetings sporting bruises down their arms. This is NOT the Forest Guard, and King Thranduil will expect you to be an asset to him, not a liability." With a huff, he pulled out his notebook and scribbled another note, jamming the quill back in the inkpot on the table so hard that he splashed ink on the blotter.

Appearances," she bit off the word. "Does it matter at all to people what kind of person their Queen is on the inside—that I fought for our kingdom for many years or that I'm a kind or generous friend?"

"It won't matter what kind of person you are—if no one takes you seriously, Narylfiel. If they think you are a foolish child, it won't matter." Rivenion stared at her.

Narylfiel stared back. "Talk about foolish," she said. "This is degrading, Lord Rivenion. I have never been a foolish child. You may be on the Elder Council, but I do not doubt that I know more about the goings on in the king's court than you."

Rivenion bristled. "Like what?"

Just then the door swung open. King Thranduil swept in, his eyes surveying the scene as though he expected to find carnage in the room. "Lord Rivenion, Lady Narylfiel," he greeted them. "I am pleased to see you working together."

The elf lord and young lady both forced smiles.

"King Thranduil, I was just impressing upon Lady Narylfiel the importance of making a good impression on her fellow courtiers," Lord Rivenion said, looking pinched.

"And I was just telling Lord Rivenion that I am not a child, nor an idiot," replied Lady Narylfiel, smiling sweetly at her king, although her eyes blazed.

"My lord," interrupted Rivenion, aghast at Narylfiel's words. "Lady Narylfiel is putting words in my mouth. I never insinuated such a thing!"

"Of course, you didn't," Thranduil said flatly. He lightly took Narylfiel by the elbow and steered her over to a corner of the room. "Diplomacy means presuming positive intent, Narylfiel. Like it or not, there are things that Lord Rivenion can teach you," he said quietly and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"But he thinks that I'm a silly child!" she hissed.

Thranduil smiled then. "Well, then you'll just have to disabuse him of that notion, won't you? Because like it or not, there are things that you can teach Lord Rivenion."

"We are not done talking about this," she warned him.

His only answer was another infuriating smile. Narylfiel began to suspect that he was enjoying this. Thranduil quit the room then with a nod to Lord Rivenion, who promptly shut the door behind the king and then pressed his fingertips to his temple.

"Lady Narylfiel, it seems as though we are to be companions for a little while longer," he said carefully. "I would like our next meeting to be at Lady Almea's brunch tomorrow after next…and please, dress accordingly."

Narylfiel curtsied stiffly, visualizing all the ways she knew how to incapacitate an opponent. "I would be delighted, of course."

Rivenion took out his notebook and jotted down something else. Narylfiel imagined using same notebook for target practice.

And that was the cheerful end of the first day of Queen lessons.

Later that evening, Narylfiel found Thranduil in his throne room and waited for him to finish his audiences for the day. She watched him hear a petition for one of the royal smiths to accept a new apprentice; he denied a request from one of the scribes to travel to Rivendell; he listened to reports from the latest group of guards to return from the eastern rim. She watched him carry on all of these proceedings with dignity and grace, giving each matter his full attention and consideration.

Before he quit for the day, a family came to stand before him: a mother, father, and two younger elflings, a boy and a girl who shyly clung to the back of her mother's skirts. Narylfiel's heart broke for them, for she knew why they had come. She had seen the king grant this sort of audience before.

Thranduil descended from his throne, and thanked the father and mother for their son's service. Then Beriadan, captain of the guard, brought forth their son's sword, and King Thranduil presented it to the father. The mother crumpled into her husband's side, her shoulders shaking. Narylfiel looked away then, unwilling to intrude on the private moment any longer. She had known their son, Rissien; even though they had rarely served together, she remembered how strong he was, how he always had a quick grin and a willingness to help out.

She angrily swiped at her eyes and waited for Thranduil. She could still hear his low voice, resonant and soothing as he spoke with Rissien's parents. Then it was all finished. The family left with Rissien's sword and the king's gratitude, and Thranduil came through the side doors to find Narylfiel waiting for him.

He did not ask if she had knew of Rissien's death; she was sure he could see it on her face. Instead, he offered her his arm, she took it wordlessly, and together they left for the royal wing of the palace. They bypassed his study for the comfort of the shared sitting room with its already lit fire. Galion had left a tray for them of tea and some covered dishes from the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," Thranduil said, sinking down onto the settee. He pulled his crown of evergreen leaves and red berries from his head and set it on the side table. Narylfiel sat down next to him and pulled the tray closer. She poured them both a cup of tea, which her king accepted but did not drink. Instead he held it for a minute and then set it back down on the tray, and closing his eyes, leaned back into the comfortable cushions of their seat.

"I watched you for a while today in the throne room," she said.

"Did you?" he asked. "How come?"

"I wanted to see you. Originally, I planned to pounce on you about the Queen lessons and really let you have it, but…" her voice trailed away, and he cracked open his eyes to look at her.

"—I forget sometimes that being king is a real job for you, and all that comes with it. You made all of those people that came for an audience with you feel like they mattered, that their problems were important."

"Because those things are important to them, and they do matter to me," Thranduil said and lifted his arm to drape it around her shoulders against the back of the settee. He hugged her to him, and she wondered if the pain lingering in his eyes was from the meeting with Rissien's parents, or his fears for Legolas, far away and in who knows what sort of danger.

She did not ask, and he did not say anything more for a long time that night.

Author's note: Please Review, Follow, and Favorite! I am proud to announce that Thranduil's story Kingsfoil has now surpassed 'Wanderlust' in the reviews count!

Thranduil: #ElvenKingSwag #Best

Narylfiel: #RivenionGoingDown #EyeRoll