Okay… Yes, Mirimir was able to tell there was something wrong with him, which was why she was worried about him. As for the rest of it… you'll have to keep reading (beyond even this chapter) for explanations. I would just like to (runs back to previous chapter and points out line) say: found he was mostly clothed—to his surprise… and just ask you all to keep that little tidbit in mind before you start Lego-bashing too badly.

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Legolas tilted his head with a slight smile. Mirimir was sitting on the balcony railing, looking out over one of the larger, more public gardens. Even at this hour of the night there were several elves wandering around below.

He moved behind her, resting his hands on either side of her. He'd warned her of his approach, so she hadn't flinched or moved away at his touch. She was still so wary of anyone she didn't know well… which was everyone except him, and Leherim. She leaned back, trusting him to support her.

He smiled and kissed her crown. It is beautiful, isn't it?

A faint nod was his only reply.

Contentment, from her and himself, overwhelmed him, made him close his eyes to savor it.

Legolas?

He frowned swiftly, trying to figure out who was contacting him… though it would seem obvious, as Mirimir had never yet spoke to him in any way. Yes?

Father wishes you. Now.

Now? But it's rather late.

I know. Now.

He sighed softly. Do you know what it is?

No. I only know he does not look at all happy.

With me, or with—

I don't know, just hurry up. Letting him stew is undoubtedly a bad idea.

Very well, he sighed softly. Mirimir, Father wishes me.

She straightened and looked up at him over her shoulder, frowning slightly.

"I don't know," he answered softly.

She sighed softly, but turned her attention back to the garden.

Wishing he could do that, Legolas walked to his father's study. "Father?" he called softly, entering the room. He lifted a brow when he saw the room's other occupants. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes. Have you considered wedding any?"

Legolas frowned, shaking his head slowly. "Not in the sense of having anyone in mind, just knowing that someday I would find an elf I loved enough to spend the rest of my life with."

"Which you have not yet done?"

Legolas felt like he was walking on shaky ground, but he couldn't figure out why. Of course, having Eiectorm and her father there sent even more in the way of nerves into his stomach. "My love thus far is extended only to family and friends. Though some friends are dear, as yet I see none as my wife."

Thranduil sighed softly. "Then you are opposed to marriage at this time?"

Legolas felt his eyes widen. "Of course! I will not marry where there is no love." He looked down slightly, aware his reply had been so assured it as much as said he would refuse if ordered to.

"I am sorry to hear that, Legolas," Thranduil murmured wearily. "For it seems marriage would be the most valiant option for you now."

Confusion battled with anger. "Why would that be, Father?"

Thranduil's lips pursed in disapproval, disappointment. "Lady Eiectorm is with child, apparently by you."

The walls shook, panic and horror climbing to escape his chest as he tried to process that simple statement and remain calm—at least in appearance. Still, when Thranduil's hand rested on his shoulder, urging him to sit, he didn't protest, sinking numbly into his chair.

Okay, he had a few options. Deny it all, and hope it blows over. Not a bloody likely thing, considering the scandal this would be named. The dear Prince, caught in such a snare. Of course, they wouldn't believe it was a snare.

Option two, tell the utter truth, and risk being eviscerated by both fathers currently in the room.

Lastly, he could marry her.

His stomach rolled at the thought—he had broken it off with her entirely more than a month past, because he had been unable to stand her any longer. She was as shallow and false as any elf of such an age could possibly be, though she had put up a fairly convincing show for a while, and he did sometimes feel like having female company enough he could have looked past a lot of faults… for a time.

Well, not much in the way of options. Slowly he raised his head, looking up at his father. "I did not ever desire to have a child with any she-elf." Much less the one before him. "If, at the quickening, the child is mine, then I shall marry her."

A muscle twitched in his father's jaw, but her father was less restrained. "If you force this to wait until the quickening, it will be obvious to all that you doubt your responsibility."

"If the child is mine, I know my responsibility, and I will step up to it. As long as I remain unconvinced… I refuse to be coerced into a marriage."

"That is not your choice, Legolas," Thranduil murmured softly, frowning. "As well you know." With a soft sigh he sat down behind his desk. "This shall have to go to a council. I cannot decide it fairly by myself." Shaking his head slightly, he folded his hands. "You may all go, for now."

"How are we to know he won't leave?"

Thranduil's face grew thunderous for an instant. "He is the Prince of Greenwood. Do you think he would shirk his duty?"

Legolas was a bit cross with the question himself. "Besides, Leherim always knows where to find me." As the three left the room, his two accusers unconvinced he would remain for his judgment, Legolas was aware of a faint shadow that shouldn't have been where it was. He tilted his head and approached, smiling faintly as he figured out who it was. "Out rather late… or early, I suppose?"

Mirimir looked up at him, her dark brows knit as she studied his face. She tilted her head slightly and bit her lip, before she stepped against him.

He accepted her offer of comfort with a silent sigh, bending his head to rest it on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. I wish everything after the garden had never happened, he murmured softly.

Her hands moved tentatively to his waist, slowly sliding around to link at the small of his back. Her head tilted against his, a faint sound escaping her as she relaxed.

Taking deep breaths, he was slowly able to relax, but the prospect of the coming council was not conducive to anything resembling the contentment he had felt earlier that night.