Sweat dripped between Zillaryn's shoulder blades as she crouched down, feeling Bosriel's blade skim over her. He rotated around and kicked his legs out of under him, and his back hit the ground, and Zillaryn straddled his hips.

"No," Bosriel hissed back.

The blade tightened against his throat, "Are you sure you want to continue this embarrassment in front of those supposed to look up to you as a leader?"

Bosriel gritted his teeth and wrapped his leg around Zillaryn's waist, pulling her back to the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. Zillaryn gripped his elbow and pulled it straight to the point of feeling the tendon pop as Bosriel screamed.

His grip on her loosened, and she could wriggle her way from under him. She kept a hold of his arm, twisting it back further as her boot pressed down onto his neck. She hissed again, louder so the others could hear, "Say it."

Bosriel clenched his teeth as he briefly closed his eyes, a slight mumble coming from under his breath. Zillaryn tightened the pressure on his throat, "What as that? I don't think they heard you."

Bosriel exhaled sharply in frustration, "I yield."

With a smirk, Zillaryn released his arm, stepped back, took a deep breath, and offered her hand. Bosriel rolled away from her with a scowl and got up from the ground without the offered assistance. He was almost to the archway that led onto the training ground before a voice stopped him.

"Are you forgetting something, soldier?"

Bosriel turned to see the Elvenking standing in front of the other soldiers that had watched the spar, his hands held behind his back with an elegantly arched eyebrow in Bosriel's direction. Bosriel turned his attention to Zillaryn, put his feet together, and offered a respectful bow before turning back and leaving the field.

"Shouldn't the lot of you be in archery training with the Prince?" Thranduil questioned without turning to look at the soldiers.

He smirked to himself at the sound of feet shuffling around as they left for the other training field, but he kept his eyes on Zillaryn, subtly stretching out her tired muscles from the spar. As he watched her, an entertaining idea came into his mind, and he silently left her alone on the grounds.

But only for a moment.

Zillaryn straightened back up and glanced around the field. Alone. She wasn't complaining; she had gotten more of a workout than expected and was looking forward to the hot bath waiting for her back in the guest chambers.

She made her way to the arch at the entrance of the training field when, right before she stepped off the grass, an arrow landed directly in front of her boot. She instantly stopped and looked down, noting that it was tipped with a gold medal.

Only two elves had gold-tipped arrows, and one of them was training the other soldiers. Her eyebrow arched as she once more slowly looked around the field.

Alone.

"I'm sure certain things have changed since I've been gone," Zillaryn spoke casually, knowing he was listening, "But when did it become common to shoot guests?"

"A new tradition," his voice bounced around the training field, "Set in motion this morning."

"With this new tradition," Zillaryn scanned the empty field looking for the slightest disturbance, any indication as to where he could be hiding, "how is the guest expected to respond?"

"In-kind."

Zillaryn almost jumped at the closeness of his voice, his breath ghosting against the back of her neck. She spun around and felt the tip of the arrow skimming her nose. Her face remained neutral as her eyes slid up to meet the ice-cold gaze hinting at mirth. "What do you think you were doing with Bosriel?" Thranduil asked as he began to circle her slowly, the bow never wavering in his grip.

Zillaryn furrowed her brow, "What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

Thranduil scoffed lightly, "You were holding back."

It was her turn to scoff, "Of course I was."

"Why?" genuine curiosity dripped from the single-word question.

Zillaryn could sense him directly behind her, and she made her move.

With lightning speed, she reached around her and grabbed the bow, pulling it down and out of his hand. All the while, she was pulling one of her blades from the sheath and stopping it a hairsbreadth away from the Elvenking's throat. The exact moment that she felt the metal of his sword caress her neck.

"Because you told me not to kill him," She stated, "I was simply following orders."

He hummed to himself, and Zillaryn noticed the tensing of his throat, "So tell me, Duag mor Vagol (Soldier of the Black Sword)," he began circling again, and she mirrored his movements, "what say you to a proper sparring match?"

She tilted her head, intrigued by the idea. Thranduil was careful to move his blade as she moved her head. She smirked, "Weapon of choice?"

Thranduil openly smiled at this, "Swords, bows, and arrows."

"Agreed."

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow, "Timeframe?"

"Sundown. If your kingly schedule allows."

"I'll make it allow. It is my schedule, after all."

Zillaryn never lost her smirk as they continued circling, "Boundaries?"

"Surely, you remember the borders of the kingdom."

"Indeed I do."

"Terms?"

"Three would-be killing blows." Zillaryn stepped back, putting her sword back in the sheath at her hip. She turned and walked to the edge of the training field to grab one of the extra bows and a quiver of arrows. "Prize?"

She turned back around and was chest-to-chest with the Elvenking. She almost needed to arc her back into him to meet his gaze. His eyes had a deep emotion behind them that she couldn't identify; all she knew was that it caused a chill to run down her spine. When he spoke, his breath caused her hair to dance around her face, "Winner's choice."

Legolas had always stationed himself on the training field wall as he watched the archers below. Today, however, was different. He had seen the movement out of the corner of his eye and had to focus on not smiling actively.

It had been too long since he saw his father seeming to enjoy himself.

Centuries, if not millennia.

Now he saw him seemingly taken with not only a formidable warrior but a genuinely kind and compassionate elleth. It brought a smile to his face.

Maybe, just maybe… The shadows that have plagued his father's heart for so long were beginning to lift.

Their sparring challenge had started five hours ago

They had walked with each other to the main gate of the palace before parting ways, each wishing the other luck but also silently wishing the other would trip on a tree root and lose ground.

Thranduil's first win was achieved by having snuck up behind her and holding his sword to her throat from behind as she made her way into a clearing. The second had come when he shot the lace on one of her boots from two dozen paces away, pinning it to the tree and making her waste precious time figuring out how to disconnect herself from the wretched arrow.

On the other side of this challenge, Zillaryn obtained her first win early in the day. Thranduil had been lifting his arm to move branches from his path, and when he moved to step through, he found himself unable. Looking back, he saw a throwing dagger had embedded part of his cloak into the tree. A moment later, Zillaryn dropped down and smiled. "One," she stated as she pulled her dagger from the tree, turned on her heel, and sprinted away. As she ran, she had dodged several arrows as she retreated deeper into the woods.

She now used that same dagger to cut through the laces on her boot and continued to climb up the tree. She jumped from tree to tree, following his footprints in the soft mud. She caught a glimpse of his cloak ascending a tree, forcing her to climb higher to avoid detection. She saw the slight tremor of a branch and knew what tree he was in.

Thranduil had taken a moment to survey the area as he scanned the canopy of trees for any sign of the soldier. He had to admit that this challenge had lasted longer than he expected, but it came as a pleasant surprise. He hadn't been challenged like this in a long while. He smirked to himself as he readied himself to continue.

"Something funny?"

His head shot upward, and he was met with an arrow pointed between his eyes and Zillaryn standing across to branches above him. "Two."

A mischievous grin slid across his face as he arched an elegantly manicured eyebrow, "And so we enter the endgame."

"To the winner go the spoils."

Zillaryn only had a fraction of a second to brace herself as Thranduil's hand shot out and grabbed her around the ankle, pulling her to the ground. Her face scratched against several branches on her quick descent, and she landed hard on her knees. She whipped around just in time to raise her sword as Thranduil crashed into her, pushing her back against the cold ground, his face inches from hers.

"The trouble I face now," Thranduil whispered, his face framed by their crossed blades, "is deciding what I want as my prize."

Zillaryn bucked her hips upward, catching him off guard, and putting a small space between them. In that space, she slipped her leg upward until her foot rested against his stomach and pushed him back, his back hitting the tree. His sword cut the air in front of him as she jumped backward out of the way.

She turned and ran as fast as she could, knowing he was right on her heels. She jumped over a large branch that had fallen long ago, the sound of the nearby river roaring in her ears. She glanced behind her and didn't see Thranduil, but she ran anyway.

She kept running for what felt like an hour until she ducked behind a tree to catch her breath. She rested her head against the tree as she looked ahead to the ravine. The snapping of a branch brought her back to the moment as she heard footfalls heading in her direction. She could taste the victory, in the form of the cask of dorwinion wine and a specially catered meal from the Elvenking's personal chef, which she would take as her prize. She silently knocked an arrow into her bow as the footsteps came closer, took a final deep breath, steadied her hands, and moved from behind the tree.

"Three, Your M—"

She had looked forward to relishing the shocked expression on the Elvenking's face.

Instead, she looked into the snarling face of an Orc, with several more behind him.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in the update. I unexpectedly had to undergo knee surgery. But I am feeling better and up to writing again. Hopefully, there will be some faster updates while I am off work recovering.
XOXO - Presephone