My updating schedule: twice a week or once a year, with absolutely no inbetween.

Jokes aside! Despite my erratic updates, I promise I intend absolutely to see this story to completion. It's been planned meticulously, and I just need to see it through. I am always so grateful for you support.

Disclaimer for when you read this - I made up absolutely everything about the herbs

Without further ado -


Consciousness returned in fragments.

Ashryn registered herself slowly, in bits and pieces. A dull throb ached through her body, stabbing and stinging periodically. She was in pain. Tremors writhed through her skin, hot and then cold, all at once. Unbidden, a whimper left her mouth.

Something cool soothed over her forehead, and a melodic humming filled the air in a silken, familiar alto. Ashryn relaxed back, eyelids fluttering.

A pungent smell of pine filled the air, mixed with sharp tinges of mint and jasmine. Opening her eyes, Ashryn glimpsed pale grey walls, cleanly utilitarian, and felt soft cotton beneath her fingers. A flash of gold entered view.

"Gentle, now."

Ashryn knew the voice like it was her own. Lovely, lilting, like a song. The elleth leaning over her had a heart shaped face framed with blonde waves, and dark eyes bright with concern.

Memories passed by, one after another. A childhood tinged with rosy light, the three of them racing through the gardens: Cassian crashing through the hedges, Ashryn leaping over them, and always behind, a smaller elfling with ringlets down to her waist, helping them up when they fell.

"Eliadeth." Ashryn wasn't sure whether or not she was pleased.

The smile she received was a mask of caring professionalism. "My lady."

A flood of remembrances came, in time with the contents of her stomach.

The healer was ready. As the bile came up, Ashryn managed to turn her head to the side, and Eliadeth slid the bowl across the bed. There was barely anything left to vomit, but it burned just as much regardless. Choking, gasping, the tears scored her cheeks as Ashryn struggled for air, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets. Every retch came with a fresh stab in here side.

"That's all there is." The healer prompted her gently, easing her back onto the pillows. "The glass has to come out now."

Ashryn groaned, agony hissing through her veins. She always woke too early. "The side, first," she ordered.

Wry amusement crossed Eliadeth's face. "Aye, my lady."

"Is there anything for numbing the pain?" A demand came from the edge of the room, a cloak swirling about Legolas's ankles as he paced rapidly, footfalls utterly soundless.

Eliadeth knelt at the bedside, fingers brushing around the wound. "She will not need it."

Ashryn choked a laugh. "You've picked a good healer, Legolas."

The elleth slipped a small knife from her sleeve, slicing through the torn fabric of the dress, soaked with blood. The prince bore down on the other side of the bed, flitting anxiously. Silence fell as Eliadeth's fingers danced around the shard, not quite touching. Legolas took her hand and held on tight. "It will be alright," Ashryn told him drily.

The glass slipped from the wound delicately, and she winced. Legolas gripped her hand tighter, to the point of pain.

"This will not need stitches," Eliadeth declared as she dropped the shard into a bowl, stained with Ashryn's blood. The smaller elleth liked to talk as she worked, but it had never seemed quite as irritating before.

"You don't need to tell me," Ashryn sniped, "we were trained together."

The stare Eliadeth fixed her was one of masked distaste, seeming to just bite back a remark. Ashryn sent her a goading smile, as steady as she could manage through the thrums of pain in her skull, each beat like a club against her temples.

Averting her gaze, Eliadeth sliced a long strap of cotton. "Sit up."

Legolas had to help her, his arms icy cold against her fevered skin. Eliadeth worked fast, dressing and binding the wound like she had a knife held to her throat. "Down." The prince settled her back down onto the sheets softly, as though she was about to snap in two.

Eliadeth shifted towards the foot of the bed, her brow furrowing as she shifted Ashryn's ankle to check the arch of her foot. "This is trickier," she observed. "Deeper."

"Impressive," Ashryn mused.

"Oh, indeed." Eliadeth's wrist flicked, and there was a clink as a smaller shard joined the first.

Ashryn hissed. "Not your finest work."

A pale eyebrow rose. "Better than any you could do." The second piece slipped out almost imperceptibly.

"Acceptable," Ashryn told her. Bizarrely, Eliadeth nearly smiled.

Her fingers were numb. Ashryn fixed her attention on Legolas, who was white as a sheet, confusion knotting his brows. "Are you alright?"

The prince stared at her, and then Eliadeth, hardly comprehending the question. A few seconds later, his grip slackened on her hand, and Ashryn smiled, grateful, before a hammer of pain wiped it from her face.

"Thistle, dandelion, nettles," Ashryn listed as Eliadeth swiped a thick paste over her foot before wrapping it tightly with pristine cotton. "Any in the bag? I suppose it is too much to ask for Oleander."

Eliadeth frowned at her. "That's a poison."

"I know," Ashryn rolled her eyes, which coincided uncomfortably with another throb of pain. She waited for it to pass. "Fortunately for me, I appear to have ingested some large quantities of Valerian, which will counter it just fine."

Eliadeth sat back on her heels, bandages dangling from her hands. "How? Why?"

"How they will counter each other? Why they will counter each other?" Ashryn couldn't help herself.

The healer glared. "The valerian."

"We were experimenting with potential weapons," Ashryn replied, careful to control her features as she dug a finger hard into Legolas's hand in warning. "It got out of hand."

Disbelief mixed with alarm and disgust. "Irony is cruel, is it not?" Eliadeth commented, her tone distinct with superiority, but continued on before Ashryn had the chance to strike back. "I would not give you the Oleander even if I had it. You could be mistaken."

Ashryn had to scoff. "I am not mistaken."

"It is still too dangerous even if you are right." Eliadeth's dark brown eyes met Ashryn's gold harshly, removing small glass jars from her bag, all of them labelled with the elleth's neat handwriting. Thistle. Dandelion. Nettles.

"You never had any creativity," Ashryn sneered weakly.

"And you never had any respect. Or sense." Eliadeth snapped, glass clinking in her fists. "Just like your uncle."

"That's enough." Legolas ordered, thundering down on Eliadeth. "You are here to treat your patient, not attack her. As it appears you are unable to do so, you may go."

Shocked silence.

Ashryn could tell immediately that Eliadeth was fighting back tears, but the healer rose stiffly to her feet, set down the bottles on the bedside table, and bowed. "Your highness." Voice tight, back straight, Eliadeth left the room.

"She did not deserve that," Ashryn turned to Legolas reproachfully, noting the stress darkening his eyes and the muscles tense in his forearms. "Legolas."

Lips pressed into a firm line, the warrior moved to the other side of the bed where Eliadeth had left the herbs, "Tell me what to do with these."

Ashryn walked him through it, using the bowl which had held the glass shards to mix the fine powders, trickling in water to form a thin paste, tinged green grey. She knew it would be bitter and prepared herself to gag.

Legolas helped her up, pressing a rag over her brow to wipe the sweat as she shivered, a hand supporting her back as he guided the bowl to her mouth. She swallowed it down as fast as she was able, only just fighting down a retch as he traced soothing circles over her spine, setting the bowl down. "Is that all you need?"

Nodding weakly, Ashryn had to take a few steadying breaths before she could speak. "I need to sleep." A cursory glance about her found bloodstained sheets, her dress cut in half at the waist. "Do you have anything I can wear?"

He returned moments later with a soft blue robe, folded neatly over his arm. Something shuttered deep in Legolas's eyes as he passed it to her, hand lingering over the fabric. "My mother's," he told her, voice muted.

Ashryn took the robe, passing her hand over his own briefly, not quite knowing what to say. "Thank you."

Legolas nodded at her. "I will give you some privacy."

It was more difficult than she imagined, trying to shrug out of the dress. She ended up cutting it off her body, the fabric a bloody heap on the floor. She was drowsy, and her muscles weak as she slipped into the robe, imbued faintly with the scent of lavender. It was hard not to think of the its past owner.

The prince returned after Ashryn had managed to manoeuvre herself under the sheets, as far as the bloodstained areas as possible. He settled himself into the chair beside the bed, armed with a knife and an armful of arrowwood. Ashryn was asleep before he even started fletching the first arrow.


A full quiver sat by Legolas's feet when Ashryn awoke again, the prince running an oil cloth over his long white knife until it shone. Her head still hurt, but the ache was manageable now. It would take more time before it receded fully, given the mild nature of her antidote. She watched him briefly, admiring the methodical movements which reflected the thousands of times he must have prepared his weapons for battle.

Legolas must have sensed her eyes on him, gaze snapping up from the blade to meet her own. "How are you feeling?"

"Given the circumstances?" Ashryn managed a smile as she sat up. "Well enough."

For the first time that day, there was true warmth in Legolas's eyes, alongside overwhelming relief. "I am glad. You gave me quite a shock."

Her own smile quickly soured as Ashryn glanced down. "I tried to stab you," she recalled, "Your father could take my head for that."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Legolas replied easily, leaning over and raising her chin with a finger. "Be at ease, Ashryn. It was a mistake."

"You are only saying that because nothing went too wrong. I was going for your throat, Legolas." The words were heavy on her tongue. What had seemed so logical in her drug addled haze weighed on her shoulders, remembering how her knife had screamed against the stone wall. The stroke, had it connected, could have taken half his head off.

Her distress must have shown on her face. Legolas's hands dropped to her shoulders, gentle. "Trust me, Ashryn." He forced her to meet his eyes. "You would have had to try a lot harder to kill me." The words were so simple, so assured, that it nearly took her breath away.

"You don't know that."

"I do," Legolas replied.

Ashryn sighed, looking away. Her shoulders slumped. "That's not the point." She wasn't sure whether she was more distraught at the situation or simply distraught that she was distraught.

"Then what is?" There was a hint of frustration in Legolas's voice as he sat on the bed beside her, knife abandoned on the chair.

A long silence passed as Ashryn took care to observe the walls, the floor, the door, everything but the prince beside her. "Besides the fact that I attacked the crown prince of the woodland realm?"

Legolas was growing impatient. "You and I both know you don't care about that."

She wished he weren't so damn perceptive. "I -" her fists clenched. "Elbereth – I couldn't -" something lodged in the back of her throat, words thinning to a whisper. "I couldn't bear to lose someone else I care about." She could not meet his eyes.

"Ashryn." The word was spoken softly, and a calloused hand cupped her cheek with devastating tenderness to face him. "You should not be ashamed to feel."

Something twisted in her gut, somehow worse than the poison, and she found that she had nothing to say. Her breaths turned uneven as she finally held his gaze, noting every strain of silver in his eyes, the cerulean of deep forest pools. He was too close. She could see a pale scar atop his aquiline cheekbones, translucent strands of golden hair escaping his royal braids, the trace of cracks in his dry lips. "I am not ashamed," she murmured, "only afraid." Her hand moved forwards, and without even realising, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ears.

He went very still. He seemed to almost cease breathing, pupils dilating, as the weight of what she had done dawned on her. His hand wavered against her cheek, entranced.

The door banged open.

Legolas shot back from her, so fast Ashryn barely realised he was gone, materialising in the doorway with a knife at the intruder's throat.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as Ashryn struggled for breath, reaching for her blade beside the bed only as an afterthought. Legolas was taller than the figure in the doorway, but Ashryn recognised the hands lifted in the air and the supple leather vambraces on his arms, and she would have known the voice in any circumstance. "By Elbereth, if you want to gut me, Legolas, you can go ahead, but not until you let me see her!"

"It would be much simpler for me to slit your throat, Cassian."

Cassian growled. "After."

"Let him pass, Legolas," Ashryn called, tossing her own blade back on the table. "I want to see him."

The prince kept his knife at Cassian's throat for a few more seconds, just to prove that he could, before flicking it back into it sheathe on his arm. "Not a step out of line, Cassian."

The broader ellon didn't bother replying, bulling past Legolas and stumbling to his knees beside Ashryn's bedside, right beside the bloody dress she had discarded. "Before you cut my head off-"

"I was going to poison you in your sleep," Ashryn told him. Over Cassian's head, Legolas looked delighted.

"Right. Perfect." Cassian paused. "Eliadeth told me what happened to you, I came as soon as I heard. -"

Ashryn frowned. "She left hours ago." Another thought struck her. "Eliadeth speaks to you?"

"She waited until she finished her duties," Cassian explained. Of course, she did. "And no, it was a surprise. That's besides the point. I wanted to apologise." A deep breath. Cassian had never been very good at apologising. "I have been horrible to you. I have been so distracted and proud and angry that I forgot how to be your friend, and I am so, so, sorry for it. I have not stopped once to think about what you want, or what you deserve, and I will never stop regretting how I have treated you, and -" Cassian cut off, mid ramble, in shock. "Are you crying?"

Ashryn bit down hard on her cheeks. "You're boring me to tears."

A ray of pure joy broke across his face. "You do have feelings!"

She couldn't stop the tear that broke free, but Ashryn lifted her head haughtily, sniffing. "My eyes are watering, because I forgot how ugly your face is." And then she promptly threw her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder.

It was so familiar, his scent and the worn leather on his shoulders, that Ashryn had to fight hard to hold in the rest of the tears. Cassian's arms came around her back, tight. "I'm so sorry," he breathed over her head.

The hug was a mistake. The wound in her side, still fresh, sent a slash of pain straight to her spine, and Ashryn hissed, pressing a hand to her side.

"What's wrong?" Cassian was instantly alarmed, zeroing in on the way she held herself.

"I've been stabbed," she explained.

Cassian's eyes widened. "Stabbed? Stabbed and poisoned? How -" his attention narrowed on Legolas, half rising to his feet as his right hand gripped the hilt of his sword. "If you hurt h-"

Legolas's face darkened like a storm cloud. "Think very carefully about what you are about to say, captain."

"Sit down, Cassian," Ashryn snapped at him. "I stabbed myself."

Cassian took some time to consider the explanation, before evidently deciding that it was very much in character for Ashryn to accidentally stab herself, sinking back down onto his haunches. "Sorry," he breathed.

The tension was thick. One look at Legolas's face showed that he was still considering how Cassian would look with a knife in his chest, so Ashryn reached out to grip her old friend's hand reassuringly. "You should be very sorry. You've deprived me of an excuse to kill you."

Something filled the hollowness of Cassian's cheeks, not quite happiness but perhaps relief. "Stress not, dear friend. Legolas may still do the honours."

On cue, the prince moved closer to the pair of them, arms crossed. "If my lady can forgive you, I suppose I may be lenient." Legolas's eyes frosted hard as he tapped the hilt his knife, still sheathed. "Be warned, however, Cassian. You need to control your actions." He had clearly not forgotten the patrol. "Never again."

Cassian, still on his knees, lowered his head, fist over his heart. "My prince."

"Good." A few short strides took Legolas to a desk at the side of the room, returning with a chair for Cassian. "Sit, captain. We need to talk."

Cassian slumped into the chair for a few moments before sitting forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "The poison?"

Legolas flanked the other side of the bed, back in his own seat, a whetstone in his hand and a roll of weapons Ashryn had not previously noticed beside him. "Indeed. Ashryn?"

He was so coolly professional that Ashryn suspected she may have imagined the warmth he had shown her not minutes earlier, his fingers on her cheek and the way he had looked at her only a glancing memory. Her back straightened, shoulders back. "It could have only been the wine in the chambers." She eyed Legolas as the first blade sang down the whetstone. "Unless you carry poisoned apples at all times on your person."

"I do not," he replied.

"The council chambers?" Cassian's brow furrowed. "Why did Eliadeth say…" he trailed off, before staring at Ashryn accusingly. "You still don't trust her?"

Ashryn rolled her eyes. "Eliadeth would have gone straight to her commanding officer, and then up the hierarchy."

"But why shouldn't -"

"Valar, Cassian. Who do you think the wine was meant for?"

The methodical scrapes ceased. "My father." Legolas looked up from the knife, a horrified realisation finally dawning. "The red… What did I say to you, Ashryn? My father's favourite."

Ashryn nodded. "Or you, Legolas. Or anyone sitting in your vicinity. It may be simply that they cared not for the collateral damage."

Legolas's eyes pinned Cassian, light to dark. "Lord Candor was on the opposite side of the table."

Cassian's hackles rose. "What are you suggesting?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Ashryn warned wearily. "The King is no stranger to threats on his life, Legolas."

The blades returned to the whetstone with renewed vigour. "The timing seems awfully suspicious."

Cassian's glare burned into the floor. "Lord Candor was relying on the King's support. He could not have known what would come out of the meeting, and the poison would have to be planted beforehand."

"You're naïve, Cassian," Ashryn replied, "if you don't think he could have known the outcome before he entered the meeting. He played all his cards." And lost, she might have added. He had thrown her out onto the table, banking on Legolas's response, and achieved nothing, but lost her. "But poison is not his style."

The air stalled around them, the trio all thinking the same thing. Poison was Ashryn's realm.

"You need to be careful," Cassian warned.

Ashryn could have laughed. "What sort of assassin would consume a near lethal dose of valerian that she planted herself?"

Legolas set a blade aside, picking up another. "A smart one," he cautioned. "I agree with Cassian. You need to take care."

The two of them mirrored each other, deadly serious. It was uncanny. "I have no motive," she pointed out. "And there is no evidence."

Unexpectedly, Legolas laughed. "Ashryn. You don't need to have a motive, and you know evidence can be fabricated. Perhaps you were desperate to regain your uncle's affection, perhaps you resented that my father had torn your family apart, perhaps you were simply experimenting."

The derision stung. "No faith in your justice system?"

Legolas didn't bother replying.

"Was it lethal?" Cassian broke through. "You are alive."

Ashryn frowned. "I don't think so. I drank damn near the whole pitcher. It must have been heavily diluted."

"So it was not meant to kill," Legolas observed, "only incapacitate."

"A smaller dose would have been almost indistinguishable from a strong headache," Ashryn muttered, "giving time for others to gain the upper hand without raising suspicion." She turned to Legolas. "They could put you on the throne, briefly."

Legolas drew his blade across the stone harshly. "I am not for putting on the throne."

"I know that," she placated. "It just depends if others do."

"This is pointless," Cassian cut in, unexpectedly pragmatic. "What do we do now?"

"I have to tell my father," Legolas stated. "He needs to be on his guard."

"No," Ashryn protested, drawing shocked looks from both of them. "What do you think he will do if he finds out he – or his heir – is the target of poisoning?"

Legolas stilled, intense conflict playing out across his features. Anger, friction, remorse, and then sadness. "Perhaps…" he stared down at his hands, knife clinking against the stone, before looking back up at her, each word heavy. "Perhaps that is unwise."

The King was unpredictable, and so fiercely protective of his son that nothing was certain but his wrath.

"There is nothing we can do," Ashryn told him gently.

Cassian was silent on the other side of the bed, watching Legolas intently as the prince tested the edge of the blade absently against his thumb, not even flinching when it drew blood. "How has it come to this?" The question was thick with grief. Ashryn shared a glance with Cassian, both unable to answer.

She was too far away to reach him, the distance icy as Legolas shuttered in on himself.

"I should go," Cassian ventured quietly.

Ashryn glanced at Legolas, the way his eyes had become so guarded. "I want to go home." There was no point intruding on his thoughts, but still she waited to see if he would ask her to stay.

The only response she received was perfunctory: "Can you walk?"

"Cassian can help me," Ashryn replied dimly.

Indeed. Familiar arms came around her, careful to navigate the edges of her wound. It was unwise to walk, but the air was becoming dangerously frosty as Legolas continued whetting the already sharp blade. He would want to be alone.

Their going was slow, but Cassian was patient with her. Ashryn looked back once, as they closed the door – Legolas had his knife in hand, holding it up to the firelight, something dark and miserable on his face.

She shut the door.


Dear god, what a menace. 'I've been stabbed', she says. Honestly, this character has a mind of her own. Eliadeth is such a breath of fresh air to write, and I hope you like her! This chapter was a joy to write, and I hope it reads as such.

Remember, as always, reviews are love.

Stay safe!

Silver