Chapter 22

The morning dawned heavy and bleak after the storm of the previous night. Leaden clouds still lingered in the sky, and it was still raining, though now it was a soft and quiet rainfall, persistent and soporific as the rains of late autumn and winter are wont to be. The air was chill and humid, and the faint light only rarely pierced the grey veil of the sky, the sunrays hitting the ground like sharp spears in the blink of an eye, only to disappear again. The trees stood like ghosts in the fog, their dark boughs drooping grim and wet under the merciless battering of the raindrops. No birds sang, no squirrels chirped, no fawns ran among shrub and stone. Only shadows lurked behind the thick tree-trunks, and moved regardless of the light.

Such a view was before Thranduil's eyes, as he gazed out of the window. The fire in the hearth had been reduced to embers, and the warmth had dissipated from the room. He did not mind that much, though, as cold did not bother him. He was naked, his clothes still scattered on the floor from the night before. His gaze was lost, as images of their lovemaking played in his mind. They had at last confessed and accepted each other's love, and become one in soul and body. And more than once had they loved each other, for once would never be enough for two people who love and desire each other dearly.

She kissed him again then on the lips, and afterwards lightly nibbled on his ear, from the earlobe to the pointy tip and back. She seemed fascinated by his ears, and relished the shivers she gave him when she touched him there.

"We take pride in our ears", he told her with closed eyes and a side-smirk.

"I can see why", she replied, and licked the tip again.

He sighed in delight, and then with one decisive motion he gripped her by the arms and pinned her beneath him. "You like to tease me…"

"Because I love the way you respond."

He bent down and claimed her lips forcefully, but she was no less fierce, as her nails dug into the skin of his back. His body pressed down on hers, and his hands found her breasts, kneading them fondly. She moaned and tensed, but she had a plan in mind. "Turn."

"What?"

"On you back, my lord", she commanded.

He obliged, and she straddled him with confidence like she used to straddle her silver mare, eyes shining with fire and face glowing with excitement. She was in control, she was both demanding and giving, she was a Queen. And when he was ready for her and she for him, she eased herself upon him, sheathing him inside her completely. He gasped audibly from the depth of the penetration, and when she began moving atop him, eyes closed and lips parted in rapture, all it took was a few minutes for him to find his climax, and all the world shattered around him. Eyes closed, he became oblivious to his surroundings, but in his mind played visions of exaltation and gandeur. There was Daenerys, only her. Violet-eyed Dragonqueen, silver-crowned, impervious to flames. Flames, bright red flames rising up towards the sky, consuming all in their hunger. And only her walked amongst the ruins, naked and brilliant, one with the flames.

"Thranduil?"

Her low, hoarse from slumber voice disrupted his vision. He glanced at her from over his shoulder. "You are awake…"

She shifted a little, propping herself on one elbow. The covers slipped from her body, revealing one breast. Her face was rosy and her eyes hooded, as she was still sleepy, and he smiled at the sight she posed. "I want all my morns to begin like this", he said.

She smiled back, and extended her arm towards him. "Come to me…"

He turned and approached the bed, and she noticed his half-erect manhood. Lithe limbs climbed on the mattress, and she sat up and drew him close. Flesh touching upon flesh now, she was warm, and he was cool. His arms slid around her, and she flung the covers aside, coming to perch in his lap. He greeted her with a soft kiss, and she threaded her fingers through his fine silver strands. He kissed her again, and she gasped, feeling the necessity to be closer to him. He held her, one arm strongly supporting her back, while the other cupped her face as he kissed her, and then descended on her breast. Thereupon it stayed and teased her tender flesh, causing her to sigh. She was not idle either. Her fingers closed around his quickly hardening shaft, and stroked him slowly. He moaned and whispered her name, and she kissed him with urgency, lifting now her pelvis and allowing his manhood to glide underneath her. She clung to him tightly as he entered her, and together they rocked in their dance of passion, loving each other, chasing their release. And when they met it at last, she cried, and he shuddered, emptying his essence inside her.

Breathless they were afterwards, relishing the afterglow of their passion with lazy caresses and soft kisses, their limbs always entwined. "And I want my morns to begin like this", she said, repeating his words.

He smiled. "Daenerys… my sweet Daenerys", he murmured, his fingers playing with a curl of her hair.

She rested her head on his shoulder then, and her eyes traveled to the world beyond her window. "It is still raining", she observed. "It has not stopped since last night."

"The rain keeps us company."

"It is a welcome companion. But the air in the room has grown chill. I would have the fire revived", she said, and removed herself from his embrace. A shiver ran through her as she was bereft of his warmth, and she sought for her robes. Thranduil watched her as she walked to the fireplace and fed some new logs to the fire. It was soon blazing bright, and he was compelled to leave the comfort of the bed and join Daenerys by it. He grabbed a blanket as he stood, and said, "Let us relocate to the sofa. With the fire now going, it is bound to be much warmer there."

She eagerly accepted his invitation, for the offer was promising. Soon they cuddled on the soft pillows and cushions, her back against his chest and the warm blanket covering them. "I would not object to spending the whole day like this", he murmured.

"But will you not be missed? Actually, are you not missed already?" she wondered.

"Yes, probably…" he mused. "Most certainly so", he added as an afterthought, as he contemplated the responsibilities and duties that awaited him.

"You are King. You cannot spend your whole day on the sofa."

"Why not?" She turned and gave him a side-glance of reprimand. He laughed. "I was jesting. A King cannot take a day off, it seems… not even one."

The look on his face caused her to feel sorry for him. So many years had gone by for him, years without any joy or pleasure, save only perhaps the presence of his son. They had been years of war and duty, devoid of warmth, of touch, of heartfelt words and undisturbed slumber. Those years had shaped him into a statue of ice, a King with a hard exterior, a face difficult to read and decipher, a mind with thoughts obscure and abstruse. Disappointed by the world, he had withdrawn from it, and chosen the seclusion of his Halls as his sanctuary. How difficult it must have been for him to at last open his heart to someone, and to accept love in his life again…

"You shall at least have our night to reminisce upon", she told him softly, fingers dancing lightly upon his chest.

The Elvenking nodded. "It will give me much consolation in my tedious hours of office."

For a while longer they lay there and watched the crackling fire, until at last Thranduil stood and dressed, announcing it was time he went. Daenerys bade him farewell with a kiss, and then headed for the kitchens. She had started feeling hungry, and breakfast was in order.

The weeks that followed the celebration of Mereth-nuin-Giliath were marked by the shortening of the days and the growing impertinence of the foul creatures of the forest. The King was preoccupied with rescheduling the patrol routes, adding new ones and appointing more guards to the task of protecting the realm. Reports reached him daily of spider clusters that had been discovered and destroyed, and they seemed to have breached his borders, and were now found much closer to his Halls. The raids of the orc bands became more frequent, and the elves that lived in the woods in small colonies were devastated by them. Thranduil took to visiting personally those people that had suffered the most from the raids, and offered them what help he could. He gave them provisions for the winter, means and gold to rebuild their homes, and also an open invitation to the safety of his Halls, for them to find refuge whenever they wished to. He saw to the fortification of the defenses, and became even warier in his treating with strangers.

From her side, Daenerys continued with her life as she did before, dividing her hours mainly between the herbal garden and the library. The King she saw rarely, but he would come to her chambers whenever he returned to the palace, after his visits to the elven villages, and he would love her with unquenched passion.

But one of those nights, as they had just made love and were now blissfully lying in the arms of each other, she decided to speak what had been on her mind for days now. "You will leave again tomorrow", she said.

"Yes… I have to visit my people at the eastern reaches of the realm. They are frequent victims of orc attacks. In the face of the coming war, I cannot abandon them. I must make sure they have all the protection and support they need", he explained.

She nodded. "Of course." Her eyes shimmered then, as she looked at him. "Take me with you."

He drew back a little, looking incredulous. "Why would you wish that?"

"I want to meet your people, to see how they live outside the Halls. All I have known are the elves of the palace and your household, the nobles and the courtiers, the servants and the healers. But I want to know the simple people, those who are the heart of your kingdom itself", she answered.

He smiled, obviously pleased with her words. "Very well. You can accompany me then, if you can get yourself ready by the dawn."

"Excellent", she chimed, and sprang out of bed, rushing to her closet.

"You shall need your warmest cloak… Winter is here, and harsh winds blow from the east, where the forest ends", he warned her.

She sifted through her clothes, picking up those that suited the case and packing them in a large leather sack. He watched her in amusement, until at some point she paused and lifted her eyes to him. "Oh, and something else."

"What would that be?"

"I will be taking Drogon with me."

He sat up in alarm. "Why would you need to take the dragon along? The people will be scared."

"Chances are they have already seen my dragons flying over their heads, at least once or twice. Your forest is vast, but the dragons fly wherever they please. And they should see them and know that they will be protected against the forces of evil, when the war comes", Daenerys stated with confidence.

But there was a frown on Thranduil's brow, and he looked skeptical. "I am not sure if that is a good idea. The dragon might complicate things needlessly. My people in the Halls are accustomed to their presence now. Those who live in the woods are not", he insisted.

"It is time they saw them. Am I not your ally in the war or not?" she asked him, mildly irritated now.

"You are", he confirmed.

"Then let them know their ally. It is better to see the dragons now, in the time of peace, rather than later." His unchanged expression prompted her to step to the bed and take his hand. "Thranduil… The dragons are grown. They already prefer to spend most of their time outside the Halls, and their chamber has grown small for all three of them. I told you, they fly freely to wherever they want. It is better if your people are informed about my presence and theirs, before the Shadow strikes."

He sighed, but in the end nodded. "I can see your argument. Very well. Take Drogon along. I will try to explain the situation to my people."

She smiled and showed her thanks with an ardent kiss.

Thranduil and Daenerys were greeted by a bright sun and a cloudless sky when they left the Halls and began on their journey east. The air was crisp and clear, bearing the scent of fresh snow. White was their path, and the hooves of their mounts left their traces upon the untrodden snow. Behind the King followed his host, carts laden with goods and wine, weapons and armor and other things that would be gifted to the elven folk of the villages. And above the riders flew Drogon, welcoming the morning with a joyful roar as he took to the skies.

"So, where exactly is this village we are headed to?" Daenerys asked, bringing her horse close to the King's.

"It is not one village, but a cluster of small ones, scattered around the banks of the Celduin. We shall travel southeast to reach them", he explained.

The image of a human village formed in her mind then, but she doubted an elven village would be much alike. "What do those villages look like?"

Thranduil smiled. "The elves make their homes upon the great, tall trees… We build flets, which are interconnected with ladders and bridges."

"So everything is built up high then?"

"Indeed. Though there are some structures on the ground, most of them are hidden up in the strong boughs of the trees. To the untrained eye of a traveler passing beneath, it might not even look like a village at all. He might pass through it and never know it", he said with a grin.

"I have gathered that your people value their privacy…" she commented.

"Yes, they are secretive. The nature of the wood-elves has always been so. And the Sindar that came to their lands from Beleriand soon adopted many of their views, and their way of living. But the Silvan elves love the forests best, and we have learned much from them. They may have learned lore and music and poetry and wisdom from us, but we have learned to appreciate nature and the simplicity in things from our Silvan cousins. For our kindreds are closer than you may think, Daenerys. We Sindar and they are both branches of the Teleri group of elves…" the Elvenking narrated.

She remembered the elven lore-books she used to read in the library, and how the sundering of the elves was described. It was not an easy thing to commit to memory, but she did remember the basics, and she understood why Thranduil and Legolas and some other lords of his court, who were Sindar, considered the wood-elves akin to them.

"Well then, I hope your Silvan cousins are not too afraid of Drogon when they see him", she said with mirth in her eyes.

"That no one can promise", he replied, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

They rode for hours, had a brief stop at around noon for lunch and refreshment, and then they rode again. Although the trees and the ground were covered in snow, their journey so far had been blessed with fair weather, and it had not snowed again. Daenerys drew her fur-lined cloak tight around her body, for, though it was a sunny day, the cold was biting and the wind was unforgiving, when it blew.

By nightfall they had completed most of their journey, and the King estimated that by afternoon the following day they would reach their destination. Now tents were erected and fires were built, and the elves gathered around them for warmth, for the air was freezing. Hot broth was prepared on the fire, and as Daenerys took her bowl, she approached Thranduil and sat beside him.

"How is it that your son stayed behind?" she wondered.

"Someone has to look after the kingdom when I am gone", he replied with a smile. "Legolas knows the royal duties and performs them effectively, although he does not take pleasure in them. He never cared for the privileges of his royal birth either; he is a hunter in soul. He belongs out there, to the vastness of the wild world, and not to the confines of a palace and a crown", the King reflected.

"And you, Thranduil? Where do you belong?"

He met her violet eyes, which were looking at him with deep interest. "I am King", he simply said, his voice calm with the knowledge of his truth.

"Yes… but what would you like to be?" she persisted.

He cast his eyes low and remained thoughtful for a long while. He had been King for so many years that he did not remember how it was before he was that. He was a young Prince once, like his son was now. He was feisty in spirit, and quite belligerent, if he wished to be honest with himself. He loved his sword more than the scepter of the nobleman, and he wore his armor better than the silken robes of the councilor. But that was a long, long time ago. Then came the war and the dragons, the migration, and then war again and his father's death, and his mother's departure. All at once, in the blink of an eye, he found himself King upon a throne he never thought he would inherit – for his father loved to rule and seemed eternal on his high seat – and he had to live up to everyone's expectations. He had to painstakingly gather the remnants of his army and his people's courage and rebuild the Woodland Realm, with little help and even less guidance. Support, at least, he found aplenty, for the people loved him, and they put all effort in raising their homeland from the ashes, once the terror of the war had been left behind. But becoming King has not been his choice, it had not been a choice at all. It was a duty to take up his father's heavy mantle, and he did it obediently, respectfully, because he had to. But if he had a choice, if life had been kinder to him, what would he choose to be?

To his horror, he realized he had no ready answer to this question, for in all his endless years, he had never contemplated it before. "I do not know", he muttered, his eyes staring blankly into his bowl, where the broth had already gone lukewarm.

She reached for him then and touched his arm. "You never had a choice, did you?"

He turned his eyes to her, marveling at how well she could read him. "Never…" he sighed. "I am King of my people. This is what I am, what I know to be. Could I be a warrior, as I was in my first youth? Perhaps. Could I be a minstrel, as my mother once wished? Unlikely. Could I be a noble in Thingol's court, were the High King still alive and his kingdom of old still thriving? I do not know. And would I even be satisfied, were I someone else? Who can tell? These are hypothetical questions, and I have no answer."

Daenerys contemplated his words for a moment, drawing the parallel to herself. She was a Princess once, a Khaleesi next, and a Queen afterwards – at least in name. But she had chosen none of these roles. They were imposed to her by birth, by others, by destiny. But, although it had not been her choice, she wanted to be Queen. She wanted to claim her birthright and ascend on her father's throne. Thranduil seemed rather impassive in his stance. He became King because he had to; she sensed that he would have happily remained a Prince all his life, had his father survived the war. She sensed that deep inside him, although perhaps he himself did not quite realize it, all he wanted was to be a husband and a father, surrounded by loving people, receiving love and giving it back tenfold. But he had been cruelly deprived of this dream, and he had buried it so deep in his heart that he had forgotten it even existed. What would it take for it to stir and waken from its slumber?

She gave a light squeeze to his arm and let it go. "You are a good King, Thranduil. A just one, a noble one. But you are far more than just your title and position. You are a father, you have a tender heart but a fearsome temper, you yearn for things, but you do not dare name them…"

"Do you mean to say that I have raised walls around me?"

She nodded.

He looked away. The stars shone bright and silver in the deep blue sky, and a waning moon trembled behind a lone, passing cloud. "You have brought down some of these walls…" he whispered.

"You are not an easy fortress to conquer", she teased him, wishing to lighten the mood.

And she succeeded, as he turned to her with a side-smirk. "I will gladly surrender my keys to you, my proud, beautiful conqueror."

Their eyes were filled with longing for each other then, as they gazed at each other lovingly, and they wanted to kiss, but a public display of affection between them would cause a scandal for the Elvenking. And so Daenerys was first to avert her eyes, and Thranduil had to focus his attention elsewhere, too.

She re-adjusted her cloak, lifting the hood so as to half-cover her head. Then she extended her feet and hands towards the roaring fire. The heat was reaching her, even through her boots and gloves, and she loved the feeling. Thranduil observed her, as her eyes closed and her face relaxed. "Are you cold?" he asked quietly, touching her shoulder.

"Quite a bit… I am not used to such low temperatures", she told him with a small smile.

"Is it not cold in your Westeros?"

"To the far north, it is… But I have never been there. I have spent most of my life in Essos, where the climate is much warmer. The heat does not bother me, as you might have noticed", she said with a dose of sarcasm in her tone.

He let out a brief laugh. "I have noticed…"

"Look there", she said, pointing towards the moon, and Thranduil looked. A shadow flew before the bright crescent. Then it was gone, and then again it appeared. "Drogon. He likes to hunt at night."

He watched the black dragon as he flew in the distance. A couple of circles he made above the tree-tops, and then took to the north, as if he was trailing his prey. "He looks like a giant bat at night", Thranduil mused, smiling.

It was Daenerys' turn to laugh now. "Does he?"

"Well, he has those large wings… and he is black… but I fear the tail gives him away."

She turned to him then, looking a little worried. "Do you think your people of the villages will despise him?"

"They probably will… at first, at least. It is only natural. But all will be explained, and I hope that they will understand", he replied.

"I hope they will see he is not evil, as you saw it", she said.

He gave her an examining look under a raised brow. "You sounded more confident last night, when you persuaded me to allow you to take the dragon along."

She huffed. "Believing in something does not mean you cannot have some qualms about it", she retorted. "Your people must see the beasts that will fly to their aid, when the time of war arrives. And they must learn not to be afraid of them. But I never said this will be an easy task to accomplish."

He shook his head. "It will not be, but we had better make sure it does happen. I will not suffer an uprising", he warned.

"It will not come to that."

"I certainly hope so. Be sure to keep your dragon in check", he went on in the same uncompromising manner.

Daenerys looked again to the moon, where Drogon's shadow had been visible a few minutes ago. He was nowhere to be seen now. "I will", she said stubbornly, even though her adolescent dragons were not without their rebellious moments.

When she returned her eyes to Thranduil, he had risen to his feet. "I must bid you goodnight now. We have to sleep apart, for the sake of appearances. A tent has been readied for you, for whenever you wish to retire. Be sure to rest well. We shall ride at dawn."

At that he turned and strode away. She watched his retreating figure, long cloak billowing behind him as he went. She hated that they had to sleep in separate tents, but she understood the reasons behind it very well. It would be highly improper for the Elvenking to be seen with a mistress. So unlike our own Kings, she mused bitterly. Their beds are teeming with whores and mistresses, and they care not to honor their wives. They are even encouraged to behave thus… But not the elves. Never the elves. And even though her heart wept for her brief separation from her lover, she would not have wanted him to be any other way.