Legolas twines a strand of copper hair about a finger as he sits before the dying embers of the fire in his father's study. Tauriel is already asleep, her empty wine glass on the side table beside the armchair that she has curled up in. His father is on the other side of the room, the crystal decanter clinking as he refills his glass and places the stopper back. Legolas is halfway through his second glass, and he can already feel the influence of the wine twisting through his mind, giving off a light, fuzzy warmth as it tugs his thoughts along in whatever direction they happen to wander.

Tauriel stirs a little in her sleep, and he stills for a second to be sure that he has not woken her before he returns to twirling her hair about his finger.

She looks calm, now; asleep and peacefully dreaming. And if not for their earlier discussion, he may not have even realized that something was wrong.

There is a darkness in her - some small, dead part of her Fea that will not heal with any treatment known to the eldar - and it worries him.

It is the same hollow bit that was carved out of his father when his mother was killed, although Tauriel's is nowhere near as large.

His father's darkness is sprawled across his heart, spidery veins of pain and loneliness that sometimes make him quick to anger or vicious with his words. The scars are still there, wrapped around every part of his being, bound to muscle and bone and soul so tight that it must hurt to simply go on living.

However, they no longer feel as dark as he remembers they once had. They are more of a pale grey, with some shaded parts around the bits that hurt the most. It has taken centuries, but his father is healing.

Tauriel's darkness pierces sickly and deep through her, a small area in appearance but dangerously rooted. It is for her dwarf, he knows. The dark haired prince of the Durin line that stole her heart and then left her alone for eternity.

Some days Legolas resents him for it. If it hadn't been for the dwarves, his best friend would not have had her heart broken. She would not have been tempted away from her home, and she would not be blind. She would have never been hurt.

Tauriel stirs, as if sensing his troubled thoughts, and Legolas gently smooths the lock of hair he is toying with back into place. His father rejoins them, taking the other chair and lounging across it.

"You look troubled," the king says softly, and Legolas leans back as he turns to look at the much older elf.

"She's hurting."

"I know."

"I cannot do anything about it."

"No one can. Wounds of the heart cannot be so easily healed." His father's tone is gentle and understanding, and Legolas lets out a sigh.

"I just wish that..."

"Ionneg," his father murmurs, setting his glass aside and turning to sit properly in the chair. He leans forward, and Legolas looks up to meet his gaze when his father grips his shoulder. "You can no more help her than you could help me after your mother died. Do not let it worry you. She will be okay."

"There is darkness in her."

"Yes. It is from grief. But it is small, and it will weaken with time. Do not worry, I have been watching after her," his father assures him.

Legolas shakes his head sadly.

"She blames herself for everything that happened. The deaths. I have tried telling her that is not the case, but she thinks I only say it to soothe her."

"She will continue to believe that until she can forgive herself for it, and nothing you say will be able to change her mind," his father explains gently, eyes darting up to where Tauriel is peacefully asleep. "The most you can do is support her. She will have to fight her way through that darkness by herself."

Legolas sighs, draining the rest of his wine glass in one go.

His father raises an eyebrow but does not comment.

The conversation lulls for a long moment and Legolas fidgets, tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve. He already knows all of what his father told him - has gone through it once before after his mother passed on - but he was young then, and has been able to excuse his helplessness because of his youth. But now he is older, mature. He should be able to do something to help, and it kills him that his hands are once again bound when someone he cares about is suffering.

Legolas sighs, casting his eyes to the ceiling and taking a slow breath.

Out of his peripherals he sees his father move and looks up to see him glancing Tauriel over, eyeing her empty glass.

"Asleep so soon?"

"Long day," Legolas replies. "Wine probably didn't help."

"I suppose a glass or two would be enough for someone as slight of frame as her," the king murmurs, looking down into his own glass.

Legolas smirks, leaning back against the chair.

"She drank three glasses, actually...and then finished most of your second glass as well."

His father's eyebrows rise for a second before narrowing into a mock glare at Tauriel and proclaiming "how dare she," in a complete deadpan.

"You set it next to hers on the table" Legolas shrugs. "I don't think she noticed."

"Fair enough."

They fall into silence once again, but it is more comfortable this time, and Legolas lets himself relax. In the background a log crackles in the fireplace, casting a wavering orange light onto the floor and giving off a pleasant warmth. Tauriel stirs in her sleep again but does not wake.

Legolas sets his empty glass aside, resting his arms crossed over his knees.

He is content like this, being able to spend time with his father and his best friend. He had worried about the two of them, after all. His sudden departure must have come as a bit of a shock to them both.

He regrets it, of course - leaving them when they both needed his support the most - but at the time the only thing that had crossed his mind was the burning need to be away. Somewhere that he did not have to be smothered by the agony that swelled from his father like a storm cloud, or from the piercingly fresh grief of so many lost at the battle. The mere thought that he might be helpless to do anything but watch as Tauriel faded away over her dwarf...

Legolas suppresses a shudder so that his father will not see.

He had been weak, back then. Devastated by the tragedy of battle and horrified at the thought that he would have to watch his dearest friend slowly lose her will to live, so he'd taken the coward's route.

He had run.

And he absolutely hates himself for it.

Every time his father looks so relieved that he returned safely, every time that he is once again reminded that Tauriel is blind because he could not prevent her being punished, he thinks himself a coward and resolves to make it up to them somehow.

"Legolas?"

His father's voice stirs him from darker thoughts, and Legolas looks up to find the king's gaze upon him.

"Yes, Ada?"

The older elf looks like he wishes to ask a question, but after a second he seems to reconsider.

"Come, it is late," his father says gently instead, standing.

Legolas stretches back, his arms raised above his head and his head tilted slightly to the side so that the stiff muscles in his neck will limber up as he arches his back. His father takes the empty glasses, leaving them on a tray to be cleaned away in the morning, and crosses back in time to offer him a hand up.

He takes a moment to dust himself off as his father gathers Tauriel up in his arms. The girl stirs but does not wake, and his father nods for him to get the door. He follows the king down to Tauriel's room, the path old and familiar.

His father is quiet as they walk, but Legolas does not miss the way that he cradles Tauriel carefully so that he will not disturb her sleep, or the way his eyes dart down with a gentle concern whenever she stirs.

None of the elves that they pass seem to find this scene out of place, as if the king carrying Tauriel to bed is a regular occurrence. That in itself makes Legolas wonder how close his father has gotten to his best friend while he has been gone. He glances back over his shoulder with a little smile, and Thranduil raises an eyebrow as if he doesn't know why his son is grinning.

They walk in silence down one more set of stairs and a long hallway before they come to a familiar door.

Legolas slips Tauriel's room key from her pocket and unlocks the door, stepping inside briefly to tug the covers back from the bed as his father follows him. The king settles Tauriel on the mattress, leaving Legolas to slip her boots off and tuck the blanket over her as he strides back into the hall to wait. Legolas puts her key back into her pocket, so she can find it when she wakes tomorrow morning, and closes the door behind him when he follows his father out.

The king is waiting for him, and they turn as one to head back toward their rooms.

The prince looks around as they walk in silence, taking in the halls that he grew up in and feeling a painful twinge of nostalgia. He has not been away for long, but even the few months in Imladris has been enough to make him miss the towering trees of the woodland.

But this is only a short visit.

Realizing that he has not yet told his father, Legolas lets out a heavy breath, falling into step beside the king. He clears his throat slightly, for lack of a better introduction, and leaps straight to the point.

"Ada...I will have to leave again," he says, waiting a long second before meeting his father's gaze. "I need to go back to Imladris."

"So soon?"

His father's expression is devastated, and Legolas looks away guiltily.

"I will be here for another week yet, Ada, but I cannot stay much longer. I am needed."

His father is silent for a long moment, then Legolas hears him heft a sigh.

"I cannot be selfish, no matter how I long to protect you, my little leaf. Do you know how long you will be gone this time?"

"Not long, I hope, but I cannot say for sure," Legolas admits. "There is a darkness coming, and I am told that I am needed."

"Then you may go with my blessing, but let us not discuss your departure until a later point. For now let us enjoy the time we have together."

"Indeed," Legolas nods, letting out a breath in relief. "Although there are some things I will need to see to before I leave."

"You do not have to worry about Tauriel. I will watch over her while you are gone."

"So you have forgiven her?" Legolas asks.

"Yes."

His father does not elaborate on the why or how, and Legolas resists prying for details. It is enough that she will be safe and looked after. He will not be leaving her on her own again.

Although, it would seem that the worst of the damage has already been done...

The king slows his pace a fraction, jarring Legolas from his thoughts, and he slows his own pace to match his father's once more.

"Ada?"

"You had a question?"

Legolas cannot help a little smile from quirking briefly at the corner of his mouth. His father could always read him like a book.

"It is nothing, Ada," he murmurs.

"I know there is something you wish to ask me, I can see it in your eyes. Speak, son. What troubles you?"

Legolas takes a long second to screw his courage together before taking a deep breath and turning to address his father.

"...did she have to be blinded, Ada?"

His father blinks in surprise for a moment then lets out a long sigh, his expression troubled.

"It was not my wish to do so, Legolas. I could not override the council. Not entirely. Many of them had loved ones who died at the battle - loved ones who served under her charge in the guard. They were hurting from their loss, and wanted to make an example of her so that others would not make her mistakes."

Legolas feels his stomach twist, horror itching at the base of his spine. He knew the punishments for high treason, as all elves did. And what Tauriel had done ranked up there pretty high.

"What did they-" he starts, but cannot seem to find the words to complete his question. That does not prevent the older elf from gathering his meaning, however.

"Nothing so bad as you are thinking, but they certainly had not planned on being lenient. They wanted to cripple her; to take away her ability to walk," his father says bitterly, "but I refused. Being stuck in a bed would have killed her as surely as locking a flower in the dark."

"And what did you propose be done to her?"

Legolas regrets the words almost as soon as they leave his mouth, but Thranduil gives him a dry smile.

"I wished for a few decades of imprisonment, perhaps the loss of her voice if they wanted something more permanent, but they said it was not enough to compensate for the responsibilities that she'd cast aside..." His mouth twists up in a wry grin. "The responsibilities that I had chosen to give her. In the end they sited tradition, where a higher rank brings more severe punishment, and my hand was forced. The middle ground was the blinding alone. It would be enough to ensure she was prevented from taking up her role as Captain ever again. I agreed to it, because while I knew it would make her life difficult, I also know that loss of sight is not completely debilitating."

Legolas tries not to wince as the king brings his fingers to his own blind eye, barely brushing the cheek before letting his hand fall again.

"Those that wanted her given a more severe sentence...they have not harassed her?" Legolas asks cautiously. His father's expression flashes for a second, something dark and unreadable fleeting across his features before they smooth over once more.

"From what I gather, most of them have since reconsidered their earlier insistence for her to be so severely punished. A few have expressed regret at forcing my hand while their own wounds were so fresh, causing them to seek what they thought was justice and preventing them from seeing Tauriel's actions as the one-time foolishness of a young elf that had never before rebelled." Thranduil lets out a heavy sigh. "But there is nothing to be done for her now. I cannot return her sight. As I had hoped, she seems to be adapting to being blind and going on with her life, and I am helping her along where I can, but there is only so much I can do."

"Tauriel always was a fighter."

"That she is."

They continue in silence until they reach the split that will take them each to their own rooms, and only then does the king turn to fully face him.

His father takes him by the shoulders and presses a light kiss to his forehead, murmuring "goodnight, my dear son. Sleep well," before releasing him. Legolas wishes him a good evening as well, and then returns to his room.

For a long while he does nothing but lie in bed, staring out the window and regretting that he had let his emotions lead him astray on that day in the past. He was right to have trusted Tauriel to his father's care, of course, but he should not have left home. He might have acted as another voice of reason to the council and spared her this agony.

Instead he ran away, and now there is no way for him to fix the damage that has been done.

All he can do now is try to make it up to her.

Author's Note: And with that, I've caught up to where I left off writing. Which probably means a little hiatus between now and when I next get some chapters up. I will do my best to make that time "not long," as I am determined to finish this story before the end of the year, and most of it is filling in around what I already have written, but I cannot make any guarantees because of my work schedule.

Reviews are greatly appreciated, and as always, thank you all for reading and sticking with me so far!