Legolas' eyes snapped open, and he stared wildly around the chamber he was in. That was strange; he was not in his own room. And he was not tied up. And his wounds had been bandaged. He sat up with a start as he realized that he was in his father's room, though he immediately wished that he had remained lying down, for pain had just torn through both his chest and back, despite the heavy bandages wrapped around his body.

He looked around the room once more, searching warily for Thranduil. Luckily, the King was not there, though that did nothing to take away Legolas' unease. He was alone again, unsafe and vulnerable. More than anything, he wanted Airëlus. The Crown Prince would most definitely keep him safe against Calaen or Thranduil.

As he tried to force his thoughts away from his father and dark haired brother, Legolas' sharp hearing caught the sounds of a heated argument coming from one of the Royal corridors. The voices were both familiar, and although they made him sick with fear, there was some unseen power that made him push back the covers on the bed.

'No,' he told himself silently. 'Do not go. Just stay here. Nothing good can come of this.'

But holding a hand against his bandaged stomach to try and still the pain, the Prince swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as unpleasant sensations swept through his body. He ignored it though, and made his way unsteadily to the door. Of course he expected it to be locked, so when it opened, he was more than surprised. That surprise did not stop him though, from leaving the room, and following the voices.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Do not do this," Calaen said softly.

"Do you really think there is anything you can say which will convince me otherwise?" Thranduil hissed. Of course he would not kill his son – that was unthinkable.

"Please. I will leave Mirkwood and never return, but please do not do this," the dark haired Elf pleaded. But even as he spoke, he realized how pathetic he sounded, and he was angry with himself for that. He should not be afraid. After all, had his true power not been shown in the past week?

'Ah, but you were only powerful because your victim was weaker and younger than you. Your victim was unable to fight back, and you played off that,' a small voice in the back of his head told him.

Thranduil sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I want to know why you did it. What could make you so angry that you would want to hurt your own brother in such a way? Tell me that, Calaen."

"I have hated him for a long time," the Prince muttered. "I have hated him ever since Naneth died, but I kept that hidden. And when I found out about the human, I-

"Do not bring this up again," Thranduil snapped. "What happened in the past should have nothing to do with the present."

"But it does," Calaen said coldly. "You see, finding out about my blood father only increased my hatred towards Legolas. For years now, I have been filled with a desire to only hurt him, and cause him pain. There. You know now."

"Well, you have certainly hurt him!" the Elven-king hissed. Then he paused, and shook his head sadly. "There was no need to blame Legolas. For anything."

"And why should I not?" Calaen demanded. "He has always been the special one, and you know it. I only ever wanted the love and attention that you give him."

"Yes, maybe I spoil him, but you had that when you were his age," Thranduil replied. "He is still a child, Calaen, whilst you are an adult. Do you want me to treat you like a child?"

"No, but-

"I thought not," Thranduil cut in. "Did you really think that he is more special to me than you and Airëlus? That is not so. I loved all three of you as much as each other."

"Loved us?" Calaen asked softly. "Not love?"

"I have loved you since the day that you were born," the Elven-king sighed. "But I cannot allow you to remain in Mirkwood."

"You are banishing me," the Prince whispered.

Thranduil shook his head slowly. "No, but I am asking you to leave. It will take a long time for Legolas to heal, emotionally as well as physically. You have hurt him more than you know, Calaen. You cannot stay here, not whilst he is healing. I wish it did not have to be this way. But there is no other choice."

"I understand," Calaen said quietly. "When do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as possible," Thranduil replied. He could not believe that he was sending one of his own children away. And if he was honest with himself, he was not even sure if it was the right thing to do. But he was spared from further contemplation by the door swinging open, and his eldest son running in.

"What is it?" he demanded. "Has something happened to Legolas?"

"No," Airëlus replied. "I am sorry for leaving him, but I had to find out what was going on. He is still asleep."

"Calaen is leaving Mirkwood," Thranduil said slowly, as the dark haired Elf pulled on a traveling cloak. "It is impossible for him to stay here."

"I understand," the Crown Prince said. His voice was cold, but inside he could not help but feel a little sadness. "It is what he deserves."

Calaen nodded slowly at his brother's words. "I will go now. I know that both of you hate me at the moment, and I do not blame you. But I hope that one day I can return here."

"Yes, you can return. But I decide when," Thranduil replied. "If you were not my son, then I would kill you without a moment's hesitation."

Calaen fixed the King and Crown Prince with a cold stare as he picked up his bow and went to the door. "And if given another chance, I would kill Legolas without a moment's hesitation."

"How dare you!" Thranduil hissed.

Airëlus put a restraining hand on his father's shoulder. "Leave it."

Calaen smiled briefly, locking eyes first of all with his brother, whose face remained impassive, and then with the Elven-king. The two stared at each other, neither willing to be the first one to look away. Sparks flew from eyes of both blue and green, and just when the tension was becoming almost unbearable, the Prince spun on his heel, and left the room.

As he stormed up the corridor, he shook his head angrily. He was of the Royal Family of Mirkwood, yet he had just been ordered to leave his own palace! But his temper died down slightly as he looked up and saw Legolas. The younger Elf stared at his brother in horror, nothing but fear preventing him from moving.

"Well, I did not think that I would be seeing you this soon," Calaen said softly. "I told Ada a minute ago that I would kill you if given another chance. There is nothing to stop me from doing it right now. What do you think?"

Legolas took a deep breath, forcing his fear away. "I think that you should kill me. Like you said, there is nothing to stop you from doing so. What are you waiting for? I am weak and you will have complete power over me, so it will be an easy task. If you are so desperate to see me dead, then do it. Kill me now, Calaen."

"I…what?" the dark haired Elf asked, taken aback at his brother's answer.

"You heard," Legolas replied softly.

Calaen stared at the younger Elf, unable to believe what he had just heard. He had strength and power, there was no arguing that. But inside, deep down, he was weak. He preyed off the lack of control that others possessed, so when they showed fighting spirit, he himself had to fight to regain control. This time though, he was spared.

Legolas was able to hold the emerald gaze for only a few seconds, before his head erupted in sudden pain, and he fell back against the wall. He gasped and put out a hand, trying to steady himself, but everything spun, and unwillingly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

"What is wrong with you now?" Calaen asked, watching in amusement. "You spoke bravely, little brother, but did you really think that it fooled me? Take a good look at yourself, and tell me what you see. Braveness? I certainly do not. All that I see is weakness."

Legolas closed his eyes, trying to block out both the pain and the words. The agony in his head was unexpected and had caught him off his guard, and he wished desperately that he had fought against it, and remained standing. Down on the ground, he was vulnerable, easy prey for his brother.

"You can never win," Calaen said softly. He took a step forwards, but spun around as a sharp voice from down the corridor reached his ears.

"What are you doing?"

"I was saying goodbye to Legolas," the dark haired Elf informed his father and elder brother. "There is no harm in that."

"Airëlus, take him down to the courtyard, and have him taken to the borders of the forest," Thranduil ordered his eldest son, as he knelt beside his youngest.

"Would it be better if you took him?" the Crown Prince asked doubtfully. He looked down at Legolas, taking in the trembling of his brother's body. "I do not think that-

"No! You will take him," Thranduil snapped. His expression softened slightly at the look on his son's face. "Please. Just take him."

Airëlus nodded, and grabbed Calaen by the back of his tunic, forcing him to walk. As they passed, the dark haired Elf looked down at Legolas, and smiled. The young Prince shuddered and drew his knees up to his chest, making sure that his eyes remained lowered. He did not wish to watch even his torturer's retreating back.

"Did he hurt you?" Thranduil asked softly. He sighed deeply as there was no answer. "Please. Will you tell me if he hurt you at all?"

"No, he did not," Legolas whispered. He was silent for a moment, but then he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stabbing in his head. "Why should you care if he hurt me? I don't understand why you are being like this." There was a hint of desperation in his voice that he tried but failed to hide.

"I-

"You only sent Calaen away so that he would not kill me, and you would be able to do it yourself," Legolas snapped, turning to leave. His arm was grabbed though, and as he was pulled back around, fear flashed through his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Thranduil said quickly. He paused, and touched a hand to his son's shoulder. "Calaen adopted my voice whilst he hurt you. I am so sorry that you…" He trailed off as Legolas shook his head violently.

"Don't do this. Have you not done enough? Not only did you accuse me of killing Naneth, but you also…" The Prince shook his head again in confusion and desperation, before pulling himself away, tears in his eyes.

Thranduil had to blink back his own tears as he watched his youngest son running back up the corridor. He did not know what to do. Legolas had been hurt in the worst possible way, and he knew that it would take a lot of patience, trust and time to heal him. But the Elven-king did not know if he could do it on his own.

………………………………………………………………………………………………