Chapter 21

For several days after their return to the Elvenking's Halls Daenerys stayed in her chambers, mostly resting. Healers visited her twice daily to change the dressing of the wound and monitor the healing process. The lady Doronith, the chief healer, also came to see her every other day, and she was generally pleased with how her organism responded to the poison and the treatment. She seemed to be stronger than ordinary men. Movement had almost immediately returned to her fingers, and by the first week she could flex and extend her elbow without much discomfort. The shoulder itself would take a longer time to be restored to full range of motion, and it might feel stiff for the first months, but the healers kept reassuring Daenerys that all effects of the wound and the poison would eventually disappear.

At times, when she was well-rested and strong, she would also try to heal herself. She would always have a fire lit in the hearth then, and beside it she would sit upon the carpet and chant healing spells, while her gaze was transfixed on the flames. And while she sang the magical words, the flames would come alive and dance in front of her eyes, and Daenerys would reach to them, praying for them to lend her their soothing warmth and their searing power. She would often say the words in High Valyrian, and then the fire would roar brighter, as if the flames themselves sensed her kinship with Old Valyria, and her blood called to them.

Besides the healing, there was little else for her to occupy herself with, until she would be strong enough to venture outside the Halls. Reading had become a dear companion, and Istuives brought her new books to read. Luineth would also share tea and biscuits with her in the afternoon, and she would relay to her the news of the realm. Daenerys called it gossip, but the blue-eyed elleth insisted otherwise. And Faelwen would often bake her delicacies, and that berry pie she knew Daenerys loved best. She consumed her food with appetite, looking at it now with a greater appreciation, after the foul-smelling orc food and their starvation during their abduction, and got stronger by the day.

And for the Elvenking the days passed not much differently. The healers had advised him to avoid walking or standing on his injured leg for a period of time, until it healed properly. He disliked remaining inactive, though, and disobeyed their instructions at first. But after a day's foolhardy behavior, when he had walked and stood a lot to observe the building of new fortifications along the southern border, he had returned to the Halls almost unable to walk, and he was confined to strict bedrest for a fortnight.

But then Meren-nuin-Giliath was approaching, and Thranduil had no intention of missing the feast. He was careful to follow the healers' instructions, and on the night of the feast he stood from the bed, got dressed in marvelous robes of deep brown embroidered with golden thread, donned his autumn crown of interwoven twigs and red leaves – which was his favorite of the year – took his staff of carven oak, and made for the feasting hall.

The feast, as all elven feasts, was merry and glorious. Fruits of the harvest were delivered and shared among the elves, and oat pies were baked. There were also dried figs and plums, and sweet red wine, which smelled of oranges and cinnamon. Legolas was particularly fond of this wine since he was little, and his glass never seemed to be empty during the feast. Daenerys, wearing a new burgundy gown, was seated at the King's left, as he had requested, and mirthfully watched Legolas draining cup after cup. He is his father's son, she thought with a smile, remembering Thranduil's fondness for wine, a trait he never cared to hide. But she found she also liked this autumn wine, for it was sweet and fruit-flavored, and it was easy to get drunk on it. Still, the King abstained from drinking too much tonight, she observed.

"My lord? Are you not in a good mood? You drink little of this fine wine, and you speak even less", she commented.

"My mood is fine", he assured her. "It is my leg that still gives me some trouble", he said, motioning towards his left knee. "I did not follow the healers' instructions when I had to, and now I am paying the price. Furthermore, it is my left leg that is injured, and the old burns have weakened this side. A wound on my left takes longer to heal than a wound on my right", he explained.

"I am sorry to hear that", she murmured.

"My father is not a reckless ellon, but sometimes he overestimates his strength", Legolas interjected. "And he is stubborn. If he wants to walk for miles on an injured leg, then he will."

Thranduil frowned at him. "Listen to who is speaking. A more stubborn elfling there was not, when you were little. Your mother and I had much trouble bringing you back in line every time you decided to play a new mischief."

But the Prince laughed heartily. "You never punished me, though."

The Elvenking sighed, and cast his eyes low. "You were our only son."

Daenerys watched their exchange and tried to imagine them in times gone, when they were a happy family. She remembered some passages from Oropher's book, where he mentioned Thranduil's wife and described him as a young ellon, and formed such an image in her mind. He pictured him young and radiant, with a golden-haired elf-lady by his side, and a beautiful elf-child in his arms. To have once had a family and to have lost it… Such a tragedy. Perhaps a worse tragedy than having no family at all, she reflected.

"And your mother loved you too much to allow me to punish you, even a little. Thence you became so audacious and stubborn", Thranduil belatedly added, giving his son a side-glance, but his voice carried a hint of jest.

Legolas laughed again, his laughter clear and warm as a sunny morning. Then he stood from his seat and bowed to Thranduil. "You will excuse me, my lord father, for I wish to mingle with our subjects and find a suitable dancing partner."

"Yes, Legolas, go…" he answered dismissively and waved his hand elegantly.

After a few moments of silence, Thranduil turned to Daenerys. "I have missed you", he muttered miserably. "I am sick of this bedrest and confinement, when all I wish is to be near you", he confessed.

"I know… I feel the same", she told him, secretly touching his thigh under the table.

"Is your shoulder at least improving?"

"Yes, thankfully. I can move my arm satisfactorily, and the pain has subsided. I still need some athelas draught every now and then, however", she answered.

"Yes… Such evil wounds take a long time to heal."

"I wished to thank you", she suddenly said.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What for?"

"For allowing my dragons to roam free, while I cannot go outside. It would kill them to be chained in the Halls for so long…" she sighed.

He shook his head. "Of course. Their freedom is well-earned. They deserve it."

She smiled fondly, and he returned the sentiment. She drank from her cup then, while a question played in her mind, a question that took form since the conversation with Legolas. "Thranduil", she started. "You said Legolas is your only son. Why did you not have another?"

His gaze grew sorrowful. "We wanted to have another child. But we did not have the chance to."

Her face fell then, feeling for his sorrow. "I understand."

"I know you do". His hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"What did your wife look like, Thranduil? I have never seen a portrait of her…"

He let out a sigh. "In my grief after her death I forbade anyone from speaking her name, or drawing her image again… The pain was so terrible, so consuming, that I could not go near it, I could not touch it. The memory itself was unbearable. If I looked at her fair face again I would break…"

"Her absence still pains you", Daenerys observed.

"And it always will. But it is different now." He turned to look at her. "I have you, and when I am with you, all else fades away." But then his face grew concerned. "But are you happy here? Are you content, at least? Or does your heart cry for the homeland you left behind?"

She remained thoughtful for a while. Essos seemed too far off now, and Westeros further still. But her desire to reclaim what was rightfully hers had not died in her heart. "It pains me to think of what I lost, I will not lie to you. But here I have found so much… And I have found love again", she told him, taking his hand in hers. "Are you still reluctant to trust to my love?"

His thumb traced her knuckles. "Your heart has been proven true and constant over the past year. My own heart begins to realize that your love is real…"

She withdrew her hand then, as frowns from the other side of the table were directed towards her. Some nobles had seen her, and obviously did not approve of her gesture. "Best if we talk of something else", she mumbled.

The Elvenking noticed the displeased nobles as well, but he ignored them. "I tire of them, Daenerys. I am too old to care about their petty opinions… They are fine political advisors, but in the matters of the heart their views are antiquated. Elven morals are clearly defined and strict, to be sure, and little has changed over the centuries. We are a constant people, and we live indefinitely, unlike men, whose societies and habits change in the blink of an eye. But still, some tolerance would be advisable. You would think that some of those councilors are easier to forgive treachery, than to accept the fact that an elf may love for a second time…"

"It is absurd."

"And yet it is true." He looked to his goblet, swirled its content once, and took a small sip from the wine. "I like autumn wine", he said, wishing to change the subject. "Too bad my healers forbade me to drink tonight. They say the alcohol hinders the healing effect of the herbs…"

She smiled. "I may be an apprentice, but this is one of the first lessons they teach you. Wine might be useful as a temporary painkiller, when other means are not available, but one should not drink when he is under treatment. They say alcohol weakens the body, and makes it more susceptible to illness and infection."

"Yes… And that is why I will only have this one cup tonight, and no more."

Daenerys remembered how much Thranduil had drunk during the feast on Midsummer's Eve. He had refilled his goblet so many times that she had lost counting. It seemed impossible now that the Elvenking would constrain himself to a single cup of wine all night long. "It requires some willpower, this grand feat", she teased him lightly.

He laughed. "I must fight against my urges", he said, locking eyes with hers.

She felt unable to break free from his gaze, as his starlit eyes peered deep into hers. "Perhaps not all of them", she whispered under her breath.

Feeling his body stir with arousal, he sank back to his chair and inhaled deeply. This is not the time, he thought, blinking once, as if he was trying to chase the images of temptation from his mind. But she was seated right next to him, and her lips were rosy and full, and her hair shone. Her eyes of amethyst called to him with their alluring power, and her soft body underneath her velvet gown beckoned to him with its enticing curves and dimples. Her breast swelled and fell with her every breath, and he imagined running his fingertips over that tender flesh. And her hips were round, and… No. I must stop thinking of her, he told himself.

"Thranduil?" she called to him, and he turned. "You looked too distant for a moment…"

He managed a small smile. "Trying to seduce me here, in the hall, in front of my lords, is not a very good idea", he said with a measure of amusement.

She could not suppress her laughter. "I will retire then, and remove this temptation from your presence. Enjoy the rest of the feast, my lord", she said, and stood from the table.

Thranduil watched her intently as she walked away. In her final words there was a hidden invitation. It was as if she had told him, "Come and find me later if you are bored here." Or was it just his impression? No, Daenerys was neither naïve nor prudish. And she had confessed that she desired him as much as he desired her. But weeks had gone by, and they had barely seen each other. Now that they were in each other's presence again, it was only reasonable that these feelings would take fire. It was an invitation, he decided, as he fidgeted with his fork. Should I give in to it? Is it love confessed?

But his own feet provided the answer for him, when later in the night, as the feast had started to wane, they turned for Daenerys' chambers, instead of taking him straight to his. Like a thief in the night he felt, or like a child committing mischief as he walked as hurriedly as his leg would allow along the corridors. The light of the lanterns above created long shadows on the floor; some of them were still, but some seemed to follow him as he went. Holding his breath, he reached her doors at last and knocked on them twice.

They opened, and behind them appeared Daenerys. She had removed her heavy gown, and was now dressed in a long, warm robe, which clung to her body with the help of a cord tied around her slim waist. "You came", she said as she beheld him.

"Am I unwelcome?"

Instead of replying verbally, she pulled him by the lapels of his tunic and kissed him. He had a mind to shut the door before taking her in his arms and returning her ardent kiss. She held him tightly, and his hands roamed all over her back. Their kiss deepened, their tongues invaded each other's mouth and fought for dominance, and desire made their bodies tingle with life.

A while later he broke the kiss for breath, and said, "I can tell you were expecting me."

"Of course I was", she replied smugly. "I knew you would come. I wanted you to come."

"I know", he spoke softly. "But there is something I want to show you." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I had promised you a gift… a special one. Here it is."

He produced a small parcel from his robes and gave it to her. Daenerys ran her fingertips over the velvet cloth and then unfolded it. When her eyes met the silver dragon-shaped circlet, she gasped. "I thought you had said that in jest…"

"No. It was a promise."

The crown was thin and elegant, and its band was in the shape of a scaly dragon's body. On the forehead the two ends of the band were fashioned in the likeness of dragon-heads, two on the left side and one on the right, so that the lone head aimed in-between the twin ones. All dragons had eyes, and they were beset with gemstones. One was a ruby, another an emerald, and the third a yellow topaz. One color for every dragon, Daenerys realized. As she turned the circlet in her hands, she noticed that above the ears the band flared out like dragon-wings. The detail was intricate, and the crown was light, a fine piece of jewelry of elven-make.

"An appropriate crown for the mother of dragons", he told her.

"Thranduil… I do not know what to say. It is fascinating", she whispered. "This must have cost a fortune. You are too generous with me."

He smiled. "You saved my life twice, and you are precious to me beyond measure. Besides, what use is my treasury if not to present those I cherish with gifts?"

Tears of emotion rose in her eyes. "This is a very personal gift. Thank you."

He stood in front of her and cupped her face tenderly, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. "All I wish is to see you smile. I want you to feel welcome here, accepted, celebrated even. Because you deserve it."

She drew him into a warm embrace. "You have made this place home to me. I ask for nothing else."

He held her for a while, and then said, "Come on. Put it on."

She walked to the mirror and placed the circlet on her head. Her reflection pleased her deeply. I am the Dragon Queen, she mused. If only it were not only in image…

The Elvenking came and stood behind her. "You look magnificent", he murmured in her ear, and his hands found her waist. His voice and touch caused her to shiver, and she allowed her back to come in contact with his front. "Daenerys… All this time we spent apart… no more."

She observed their reflection in the mirror. His hands slid on her hips, and he bent to lightly kiss her ear. "Tell me, then", she said, turning in his arms. He looked at her with question in his eyes. "Tell me that you love me. Tell me that we are one, that we share a bond unbreakable. Tell me all that, and then love me."

It was a plea and a demand at the same time. He gazed at her flushed face, drinking in all that was her. His voice was soft and steady when he said, "I love you, Daenerys. Without doubt, without fear, without regret. Without ever looking back, but only to the future. I wish to be one with you, to share a bond unbreakable with you. I wish to love you, and be loved by you. Will you let me?"

Her eyes twinkled with excitement, to at last hear his confession of love. "And I love you, Thranduil. I love you beyond reason. Once I pledged you my aid, and now I pledge you my heart. I am yours, as you are mine. Yes, let us love each other, and be one, at last, in body and soul."

He bent forth then and sealed her lips with his. The kiss started slow and tentative, but soon they got lost in each other, hungry for more. His hands found their way back to her hips, and felt her curves, which always allured him so. And she removed the broach of his cloak and let it fall to the floor. Next came the laces of his tunic, and as soon as they were loosened her fingers crept underneath the material, touching his skin eagerly. Thranduil quickly removed it, standing only in boots and breeches now. But Daenerys pulled him to her again, and they kissed again, insatiable in their desire for each other. He pressed against her, and she felt him harden, as he kissed her with abandon and his hands traveled from hip to waist and buttock. Her soft moans served only to excite him further, and now he toyed with the cord of her robes. But as he tugged at it his movements slowed down, for it would be the first time she would be revealed to him in her hour of passion. He had seen her before unclothed, the day he found her and when she walked through the flames, but now it was different. Now desire burned inside him, and he longed to touch her. And Daenerys held her breath as his fingers crept between the flaps of her robe and pushed them aside. Her breasts came into view, soft and round, nipples hardened in arousal. He ran his thumbs over them and she gasped, and then gently cupped her female globes of flesh. The robe came loose and opened, and she shrugged out of it. It slid off her body and pooled by her feet. Now she was naked and exposed to him, and he took his time admiring her form, his gaze gliding over every little detail of it.

"Daenerys… you are so beautiful…" he murmured, his eyes traveling back to hers.

Her expression betrayed a small measure of uneasiness, or perhaps anxiety, but his soft caress on her hair soothed it away. She closed the distance between them and sought his lips. He quickly complied, and allowed her to undress him. She fumbled with the laces of his breeches, fingers trembling in excitement of what was about to follow, but her ministrations, though unwillingly, aroused him further. He covered her hand with his and guided her to feel him, and he gasped as she did. She gave him a few light strokes, and then at last untied the laces and pushed his breeches down. Unrestrained now, his manhood stood erect, waiting for her attention. But she looked in his eyes before touching him, and in them she saw the same uneasiness that she, too, felt.

"So many years… so many centuries…" he muttered, shaking with tension.

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder, and another on his cheek, and hugged him, nestling her head beneath his chin. "I am nervous too", she admitted in a small voice.

His arms closed about her protectively. "We need not rush this…"

The sound of distant thunder then broke the silence of the night, and Daenerys shuddered in Thranduil's embrace. He smiled and kissed her temple. "A storm is coming."

She glanced at the window. The wind was howling outside, and the first thick raindrops began falling. But inside the hearth was warm with fire, and his arms warmer still. "Come to bed with me…" she whispered, and took him by the hand.

Soon they crawled beneath the covers, and their limbs entwined. She felt safer there, and cradled his head as she kissed him. He gently pushed her on her back, the soft mattress receiving their weight, and the silken sheets caressing their limbs. She wound her arms about him, feeling the taut muscles of his back. He moved on top of her, and gently nudged her thighs apart with his knee. His movement made her gasp once more, and, triggered by that, he pressed against her. She slid her hand between their bodies then and felt him, and his breath was quick and shallow. "My love…" she murmured and kissed him, as she continued to stroke him. "You need not hold back. I am here for you. I am ready, and I want to be united with you."

He gazed intensely in her eyes and kissed her breathlessly. She spread her legs better, and he settled between them. He guided himself to her entrance with his heart beating like a drum, and when their sexes touched for the first time they both gasped. He entered her, pushing his way in slowly, carefully, engraving every moment of it to memory. And his spirit became one with hers as they were at last fully joined, warmth and light enveloping them both. She clung to him and her hands found his backside, pressing him down on her. Then he moved, and she moaned, and he moved again, a little harder this time, and then a little faster, until she became completely comfortable with him inside her, and she cried for more. She tightened her legs around his hips, deepening the angle of penetration, and he gasped and panted, quickening the rhythm. They kissed at all times, and only occasionally broke for air, or to lightly nibble on each other, as lovers do. His movements gradually became more demanding, and he grasped her hips and lifted her pelvis. She wanted to scream in pleasure, but she held control over herself. Her chest heaved, and her fingers rumpled the sheets, and before long she met her peak and fell apart under him, shuddering and convulsing until she rode off the waves of her most intense pleasure. The sight of her was all he needed to find his own release, and he came soon after her with a few hard thrusts, gasping and panting and trembling.

They held each other tightly, and they did not let go even after they had calmed down and their heart rates had returned to normal. Their bodies were unwilling to part, and their limbs remained tangled. Her head lay on his shoulder, and he kissed her brow. "My love, my heart…" he murmured lazily.

"Stay. Sleep with me tonight", she asked of him, reaching up to kiss his lips.

He kissed her back, and smiled. "Did you think I would leave? Oh, my love… I am not finished loving you yet."