"My lord. Time to get up."
Thranduil closed his eyes upon hearing Galion's soft voice. His newest batch of nightmares was still floating around in his mind, and all he wanted was to be left alone.
The bed shifted as the butler sat on the edge next to his king. "Would you like breakfast in bed today?"
Thranduil nodded. Anything for a few more minutes to himself.
Galion gently reached over to rub his shoulder, and then rose from the bed. "Legolas is with Felrion and Kilvara," he added as he left the room.
Thranduil put the pillow over his head, wondering what would happen if he simply did not get up today. Most likely everyone would think he had faded. It probably would not be the first time.
"Here you go."
He pulled the blankets over his head, too.
Galion sat on the bed again. "You know you won't feel better until you wake up and eat. Come on." He yanked the covers off and set the plate next to the pillow.
Without removing his head from under the pillow, Thranduil grabbed the plate and hurled it against the wall, then fished around for the covers, which were piled well out of his reach at the foot of the bed.
Galion calmly picked up the plate, forcing himself to ignore the mess, and walked out to where a servant waited with the second serving he'd had the foresight to order, gave her the old plate, and walked back into the bedroom with the new one. "Eat." This time, he didn't put the plate down until Thranduil took his head out from under the pillow.
The king's anger had faded quickly, and so he accepted the plate from Galion and ate as the butler started to clean up the mess he had made. He knew he should have been ashamed of his behavior, but he did not particularly care.
. . . . . .
A few minutes later, Thranduil walked from his rooms—in the underground palace he had moved to as soon as possible so as to escape the memories that filled his old house—to his throne, where he found Taensirion waiting for him. "How are you today, my lord?"
The king swept past without answering; his advisor knew exactly how he was feeling. So did everyone else in the kingdom, but they still asked.
"What is on the schedule today?" he asked the servant who hurried up as he leaned back on the throne.
"You will be listening to complaints from your subjects all morning," she recited obediently, "and in the afternoon you will be meeting with the captains to hear their reports. You do not have anything scheduled for this evening."
"Very well. You are dismissed." He noticed Taensirion still hovering uncertainly near the guards. "Lord Taensirion, I was under the impression you had a job to do."
The advisor winced. "Yes, my lord, I do."
"Then by all means, go do it."
"Yes, my lord." Taensirion bowed once and walked away, though he glanced back once to see Thranduil tapping his fingers impatiently on the arm of his throne. As he watched, the king's hand suddenly grasped the wood tightly as his jaw clenched, and for a moment he seemed to be fighting back tears. Then he regained control of his expression and his cold eyes flashed to Taensirion's with a clear warning.
The advisor swallowed hard and turned away.
. . . . . .
"The orcs are withdrawing, my lord," Kilvara assured the king, keeping her eyes on the ground; if his gaze had made her nervous while Sky was alive, it was positively bone-chilling now. "We hope to force them beyond the boundaries of the forest within a month."
"Hope?"
She bit her lip. "We will have the orcs out of the forest within a month," she rephrased.
"Very good. You may go."
She hesitated. "My lord..."
"I said you could go, did I not?"
She desperately wanted to, but she'd promised herself she would bring this up. "It is about Legolas."
"...Very well. Speak." The prince was the only thing that could consistently get the king's attention anymore.
Kilvara took a deep breath. "With all due respect, I do not think he should be spending all his time with us."
"You wish someone else to care for him?"
"No, my lord," she protested. "We greatly enjoy having him with us. It is just... We are not his parents."
The king looked away. "I see."
"You know we do the best we can, but it is not the same," she reminded him. "I understand how hard this is for you—"
"I do not think you do," he snapped.
Kilvara flinched.
Thranduil turned away for a moment and closed his eyes, and when he looked back, he was calmer. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said almost gently. "I am aware that I do not give my son as much time as I should, and I will attempt to improve the situation. I shall begin this evening, in fact, if you would be so kind as to bring him home early."
She nodded. "Of course." There were a thousand other things she wanted to add, but he spoke before she could turn them into words.
"You are dismissed."
. . . . . .
Felrion was waiting for Kilvara when she got home, bouncing a certain blond child on his knee. "How did it go?" he inquired over Legolas's enthusiastic shouts of "Kilvawa!"
She made herself smile as she scooped the young prince into her arms. "He agreed, and guess what?" she said to Legolas. "Your ada's going to be home all evening!"
"Yes!" Legolas cheered. It seemed like the less time the elfling got with his father, the more he loved him.
"He's the best medicine Thranduil could have right now," Felrion remarked a moment later as they watched Legolas race around the house, chattering about everything he was going to do with his father.
. . . . . .
That night, Thranduil stayed for a long time beside Legolas's bed, watching his son's chest rise and fall in sleep, but eventually he could no longer deny his own need to rest. He opened and closed the door quietly so as not to awaken his child, then slipped past the sleeping butler on the couch to enter his own room. Had he paused for an instant, he would have seen Galion sit up to check that he seemed relatively all right.
Thranduil closed the door behind him, then leaned his head against the wood. He had managed to enjoy his time with his son well enough, but other than that it had been a very long day, and he knew that tomorrow would likely be worse. And then there was the next day, and the next day, and the next... And all of them would be empty. Besides being with his son for the few minutes he was able to arrange, there was nothing to look forward to. Not without...
His breathing hitched. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, but the tears were already coming as he quickly changed and climbed into bed, and he knew it was going to be a bad night.
Galion, he thought as his uneven breaths turned into sobs, please come in. Please help me. Someone help me.
But Galion could not hear him. If Thranduil had called, the butler would have come running, but he did not.
Before long Thranduil lost the battle entirely, and he rolled over and sobbed brokenly into his pillow. He wished desperately that someone, anyone, would come, but no one did.
And so the Elvenking cried, and eventually he drifted off into a restless sleep, twitching often and occasionally crying out. Galion came to check on him twice, but he did not know it. Finally he woke with a start, gasping for air, and after a few moments of trying to breathe, he reached over and grabbed the half-full wine bottle that sat on the dresser and took a swallow, and then another, and another, all the while wondering how he was supposed to get through even the next few days alone.