The large bedchamber came into focus once again around her, the images that had travelled in front of her eyes suddenly vanishing into thin air. She could feel her limbs once more, her arms, her legs, the soft mattress as it dipped under her weight. Some distance away the fire crackled.
A peaceful silence engulfed her ears, her mind still going over and over the scenes she had just witnessed, at a loss of words. There were so many new questions coming to her head, many things she wished to discuss further but only a single glance at the Crown Prince made decide otherwise. The questions could wait.
Arahaelon's eyes were closed, his drawn and exhausted face held no color. Her heart constricted painfully inside her chest. Had it not been for the shallow and uneven breathing she could hear, she might have believed he was dead. She felt herself opening her mouth, but her mid could think of no comforting words, so she closed it instead, not knowing what to do, how to be of any help. She had never before felt so useless.
Her hand travelled to his forehead, almost expecting to find it burning with fever with how clammy and white he looked, beat of sweat dampening his hair line, but his skin was freezing to the touch. It was too cold. It was not a good sign. Fear suddenly gripped at her insides like a vicious claw, considering whether it would be wisest to simply call the many healers that were waiting dutifully just outside in the small antechamber.
His eyelids twitched open with difficulty at her touch and she did not need to search to see the pain written on his emerald eyes. It was right there, on the surface, unable to be kept hidden.
"No." She saw his lips move, and she though she heard his voice but was not sure she could distinguish a word in the hoarse sound that left his mouth. He seemed to know exactly where her thoughts had been drifting, what she had been considering, his gaze moving dazedly towards the door and then back to hers.
She did not know if she should listen to him, whether she should respect his wishes or whether she just simply ignore his words and summon the healers anyway, but at the end she nodded her head, closing her eyes to compose herself. She would not get the healers. Not yet.
Arahaelon's eyes had closed once more, his body suddenly tensing, new lines of pain appearing in his face. She rose from her spot at the edge of the bed, moving so slow that she was sure she must have looked ridiculous, trying to make the mattress move as little as possible as she stood. He seemed to be in too much pain already.
A soft drumming echo had started to pounce against the windows, soft, like a beat without a tune, accompanying her steps as she crossed the room to a nearby table. It had started to rain. She reached for the small silver pitcher there, pouring water onto a tall crystal glass before making her way back to the bed, sitting this time on the cushioned chair that had been placed it.
Arahaelon's eyes seemed lost, open once more, as green as the forest ever was, but his unfocused gaze seemed to be looking at nothing in particular, as though his mind had drifted somewhere she could not reach. She did not like that look, her heart aching a little bit more. It seemed empty, dead.
She hesitated for a second, unsure if to pull him out from whichever trance he was in, swallowing once before breaking the comfortable silence.
"I brought some water." She offered, her voice seeming so loud to ears, even though it had been barely more than a whisper. "In case you wanted."
He blinked at her voice, slowly, too slowly she noticed, his eyes turning back to find hers, no longer seeming lost or empty, but the pain was still too clearly written in them. Nonetheless, he offered her a smile, or as close to as smile as he seemed to be able to produce at the moment, only the edges of lips faintly curling upward.
He shook his head, not using words, his face turning a slightly green hue by merely looking at the cool transparent liquid. She did not press it, silently placing the full glass on the bedside table, watching him take in shallow and measured breaths. Almost immediately she regretted having brought the water at all, it was evident she had made the nausea worsen.
His face scrunched up once more, another wave of pain assaulting him, trembling fingers ghosting over the bandages at his side. And she waited for it to pass. It seemed to be the only thing she could do. Wait. She did not know how long it lasted, the heavy silence once again making itself at home in the too large bedchamber.
Her eyes moved absently through the room, gazing up at the too high ceiling above, scanning the tall and full bookshelves, filled with volumes that she wished she could read. She looked over the wardrobe, elegant and wooden, swept over the dresser, over the silvery blue couch and armchairs by the marble fireplace, over the desk where a pile of neatly ordered documents laid, along with closed perfectly aligned flasks of ink.
When her eyes finally returned to her eldest brother, she found him lost once more, green eyes open, but unfocused, empty, hard, as though he was not really there at all. He stared at the glass, still sitting there untouched over the bedside table.
The fire crackled once more. The rain drummed outside.
His hand moved, slowly, awkwardly, trembling weak fingers reached for the glass, his empty eyes still lost in it.
"Would you like some water?" She asked softly, thinking he must have changed his mind, but his eyes did not turn to her, he gave no indication that he had even heard her. And she suspected he had not, based on the still empty look of his eyes, only looking at the glass, and the crystalline water inside. He did not look like himself, there was no expression on his face, it was calm, but it was not that peaceful calmness that always carried over his features so gracefully.
She watched his fingers reached the glass, his index touching the cold crystal, slowly sliding down its side. She sat there, unmoving, not knowing what to make of it. She opened her mouth, about to offer him the water once more, when he suddenly pushed.
Slowly, painfully slowly, his index finger pushed the glass forward, away from him, sliding it over the bedside table's polished surface, forcing it nearer and nearer the edge…
"Wow!" She gasped, moving quickly, her hands catching the glass which had been about to tip over the table and to the marble floor below, only a small splash of water spilling from it, covering her hand.
He did not look at her, he did not move, once again it was as though he had not heard her, empty green eyes still looking at the spot where the glass had nearly toppled over.
"You almost dropped it." She said calmly, her voice trying to sound light, cheerful, offering him a smile that he did not see. It had been an accident, it must have been, his fingers must be too weak, clumsy.
Swallowing her worries, she placed the glass back on the bedside table, a new, horrible, unnerving feeling growing at the pit of her stomach as his hand moved once more, his finger pushing against the crystal, slowly, inch by inch, just like before. The glass went over the edge, her hands in too much shock to catch it this time.
The beautiful crystal exploded in shards as it hit the floor with a loud crash, water jumping from the marble and hitting the legs of the chair upon which she sat. Ice traveled inside her veins, her eyes turning to look back at her eldest brother who had not even flinched at the sound, his vacant gaze fixed on the spot where the glass had fallen.
"I.." She stammered, gathering herself, forcing her lips into another smile. "I will clean this up, nothing happened."
She heard the door suddenly being thrown open, rushed footsteps coming inside, but she was already crouching down on the marble floor, her hands, which she now realized were shaking, softly picking up the fragments of broken glass.
"Almarëa?" Her father's voice called from behind her, strong arms pulling her to her feet, and she could see his ice blue eyes looking at the mess of broken glass and water by her feet, and then shifting to the bedside table, the closest piece of furniture.
She could see him seeming to realize what had happened, of at least what his mind seemed to tell him was the most logical thing that might have happened.
"Leave it, leave it." The King said softly, motioning to the glass that she had still continued to pick up, not noticing as it cut her hands. Out of the corner of her eyes she found Lord Elrond's tall figure rounding the bed, his healer eyes focused solely on Arahaelon, the latter having once again closed his eyes, his face twisted in pain again. The other healers remained outside.
"Come, those cuts need to be cleaned." Her father hands rested on her shoulders, softly leading her to another door inside the room, which she noticed led to the bathing chambers.
She had never been inside them, the new room smaller than the absurdly large bedchamber, and yet it was still large. The polished marled had been left behind as they crossed the threshold, the floor now thick and evenly cut pieces of pale grey stone. There was a large pool at the end of the room, with stone steps that descended into it, and all around the room there were exquisitely carved cabinets and drawers with many bottles which's contents she could not decipher.
The Elvenking led her to a long stone counter, where a round porcelain washing basin rested, painted in many patterns of leaves and twigs in green, gold, and silver. Bright natural light entered to the room not through tall and narrow windows, as she had almost expected, but through concealed slits that had been carved on the stone near the ceiling. She washed her hands in silence, watching as the blood from her cuts dyed the water pink, her father rummaging through a nearby drawer. It did not hurt, she could not feel any pain, the cuts too small.
The King offered her a pristine white hand towel, and she used it, her father then slowly proceeding to apply some sort of salve over the tiny insignificant cuts.
"He pushed the glass over." She found herself saying, no longer able to contain it.
Ice blue eyes met hers, for a moment staying silent, seeming able to read her thoughts.
"I am sure it was an accident." When her father spoke, his voice was soft, comforting, and she was sure that he was saying made the most sense, but it had not been that way. "He is not strong enough to have firm enough grip on anything at the moment. It is normal for it to slip from his hands."
"It did not slip." She shook her head, looking directly at her father's face. That horrible, daunting feeling was still there, at the base of her stomach, and if she closed her eyes she was sure she would see that empty lost look on her eldest brother's face. "He pushed it over."
It was only a glass, nothing really had happened, except the sole image of Arahaelon steadily, slowly pushing it until it broke at the floor made her head clench painfully, fear dripping her insides. He had never stroke her as the type to want to brake things….he was always so carefully with everything.
His father's face seemed to fall at her words, and for a moment she could not make out what he was thinking. He turned to glance behind him, at the closed door, as though he could see right through it and into his eldest son pained and exhausted frame. He believed her, she could see, but her words seemed to trouble him as well, not seeming to know either what to make out of it.
"Do not think about it too much." The Elvenking turned to face her once more, shaking his head with a soft fatherly smile, and for a moment she had the impression that he too was trying to convince himself with his words. "It is only a glass."
He led her back into the bedchamber, once every single one of the cuts had been covered by the cool healing salve. And yet, the second she stepped into the room she wanted to run back out of it. Her father had left her side in a split second, rushing towards the bed so fast that she barely even saw him. There were pained gasps and coughs, Lord Elrond suddenly holding Arahaelon up on the bed the latter violently doubling over and retching on a basin for what she had no doubt was perhaps the hundredth time since the day before. Her insides twisted in sympathy, her heart aching desperately.
"Shhh.." She could hear the King trying to soothe his son, his figure already by the bed as well, strong arms helping Elrond hold the Crown Prince up. The Kings' hand travelled softly down her brother' sweat covered hair, pulling it away from his face, his gesture an attempt at comfort that it was too obvious the younger elf did not even feel. "It will be over soon…."
Her eldest brother's face was twisted in an expression of agony that would haunt her dreams, his eyes closed so tightly she though he would never be able to open them again. With every violent heavy came pained whimpers and moans that he seemed unable to hold back, as his own body seemed to betray him and pull forcefully at all the wounds and injuries, which she knew had already been unbearably painful to begin with.
"Shhh.." She King continued to soothe over Arahaleon's whimpers and coughs and gasps for air, and she could see her brother's fingers incrusting on the King's forearm digging into the skin, as if trying to release some of the pain that consumed him, but her father did not seem to care about it
Something else caught her attention, and it felt as though a dagger had been pierced through her. Something wet and clear slid from Arahaelon's tightly shut eyes, slowly, silently, down his alarmingly pale cheeks, and she found tears prickle her own eyes in return.
"Elrond? He cannot take this!" The King called out urgently, and she was shocked by the fear she could see on her father's eyes, begging the Elf-Lord to do something, anything, as her eldest brother heaved once more, letting out a sound that would forever haunt her. But any kind of hope that she might have held was brutally smashed by the equally urgent and fearful look that invaded the Elf-Lord's silver eyes.
"Shh…"the King's finger's travelled down silvery strands once more. "There…it is over….it is over…"
She could hear her father soothing over and over again, and even though the violent heaves had stopped wracking the Crown Prince's frame, the pain it had caused seemed to be going nowhere for a while. Her eldest brother had collapsed in the King's arms, his head lolling weakly over the older elf's shoulder, but his face was still scrunched tightly in pain, his whole body tense, shaking. Something between a pained grunt and a sob left his mouth, and she found herself wanting to run from the room.
"Elrond!" Her father suddenly hissed desperately, barking at the healer to make everything stop.
"He is in too much pain." The Elf-Lord assessed, always the healer, even though there was something in his eyes, on his face, that did not seem reassuring at all.
"He can no longer stay awake like this, not with this level of pain, it will make things worse. He needs to drink the sleeping draught." Lord Elrond said matter-of-factly, shaking his head from side to side, silver eyes gazing at the King's desperate yet furious face. "You need to talk him into drinking it."
"Almarëa, come here." She felt those wise silver eyes turning sharply in her direction, just when she had expected her presence would be forgotten, that she would be allowed to slip from the room and try to forget what she had just witnessed.
Nevertheless, she walked, stepping towards the beckoning Elf-Lord who had moved to the small round table close to the balcony.
"Arahaelon?" She could hear her father softly trying to get the Crown Prince's attention. "Arahaelon? You need to drink the sleeping draught. There is still an hour left until you can be given anything for the pain. You are in too much pain, my son. You need to sleep."
"No." Came Arahaelon's reply, though the word turned into a whimper before it finished leaving his mouth. He seemed determined not to drink anything, either for fear of sick again or for fear of going back to sleep, she could not tell."No."
"Here." The Elf=Lord handed her a neatly folded gauze, and when she touched it she found it wet and sticky with something. "Hold it close to his face, the smell should help the nausea, we can prevent this from repeating."
She nodded, not fully understanding but not wanting to ask any questions, rushing back towards the bed even though she felt her legs shaking. Lord Elrond did not follow, and she could see out of the corner of her eyes that he was now busy mixing herbs and teas on the table, no doubt preparing the sleeping draught that her brother seemed intent in denying.
"My son, "The King kept trying, even though she could hear with each attempt that her father would like nothing more than to simply comply with whatever it was that Arahaelon wanted at the moment. "You need to drink the draught. It will help."
"No." Arahaelon half moaned once more, after the King had to make an effort to get his attention for the Crown Prince seemed to not be listening to anything, fingers still incrusted into the King's forearm, body shaking with the pain. She wondered if his nails had already dug cuts on their father's skin.
"Can you not force him to sleep with your healing spells." The King's voice hissed desperately at Lord Elrond, wanting nothing more than to stop his son from suffering such pain. "I have seen you doing it before."
"That is not an option." The Elf-Lord shook his head, his eyes hard and unyielding, evidently trying to make the King understand something vital. "I would not dare forcing him into anything against his will. In cases like his it does far more damage. He might seem perfectly clear and conscious to you but your son's condition is extremely delicate, Thranduil. The trauma is there, even if cannot see it, and using force will only cause his mind to drift back to the traumatic experience, engraving it deeper and deeper into his spirit. It is imperative that he knows he is making the decisions. He needs to drink the draught, I cannot force him to sleep with magic and cannot force the draught down his throat either."
"Arahaelon…" The King started once more, and she lost track of how many more times the King tried, every attempt either answered by a determine no, or met with no reply at all, not even having being heard.
Arahaelon was terrified. It dawned on her perhaps on the King's sixth or seventh attempt, as her eldest brother's resolute eyes turned up to gaze at their father's pleading face. The Crown Prince was terrified of going to back to sleep, just as Tadion had told her the night before, and whatever it was he feared it was strong enough for him to rather endure the amount of pain he was in.
"I will stay here." Her father suddenly changed tactics, negotiating, seeming to have picked up on the same thing as her. "I will stay here while you sleep, I will not move from the side of the bed, and if I see you are having a bad dream I will wake you immediately."
For the first time Arahaelon seemed to be considering the proposition, his exhausted, pain-filled eyes only half-way open, and her father seized his chance.
"Its only one hour." The King was quick to add, his voice a soothing sound that carried through the drumming rain that battered the windows. "You only need to sleep for one hour, and then the healers can give you something for the pain if you no longer wish to sleep."
That seemed to have made it. Slowly, too slowly, the Crown Prince nodded, his eyes falling closed in exhaustion, and in a single second Lord Elrond was once again by the side of the bed, carrying a steaming ceramic cup on his hands. It took much more effort and coaxing to make Arahaelon drink the draught than what it had taken to convince him to drink it in the first place, and at least two or three times she was sure that he would not be able to keep it down, his face turning a sickly green hue, but he managed to hold himself. In the end he only drank close to half of what was in the cup, but Lord Elrond deemed it enough, not wishing to extend his suffering and she was asked to move aside as The Elf-Lord and her father slowly helped the Crown Prince lay back down on his back.
The King stood up from the side of the but the second he had moved Arahaelon's trembling had shot to hold at his retreating robes, emerald eyes jumping open, frightened, like a child scared of being left alone in the dark. I felt wrong, too wrong to her. Arahaelon was never this scared, not of being left alone at least.
"I am going to sit on the chair, that is all." The Elvenking said in a soft soothing voice, motioning to the cushioned sea that still rested next to the bed.
And she could not stay anymore, turning around on her heels before anyone could call after her. They would not. She was no longer needed, she knew it. She crossed the small antechamber, walking past the healer's curious eyes and out of the room, nearly colliding into someone as she crossed the hallway.
"Alamrëa!" Her sister's voice exclaimed in surprise, her silver silk dress slapping around her figure as she was forced to abruptly stop.
"Sorry." She apologized quickly, feeling Lossenel's green-blue eyes throwing her a searching look, drifting for a moment to the large door she had just exited through.
"It is all right. You do not need to apologize." Her sister brushed it off, smiling softly at her, although it did not reach her eyes. Her long platinum hair has tied back in a single elaborate braid, and she could see pearls and amethysts tangled on her locks. "How is he?"
"He…." She had to swallow to compose herself. "He took the sleeping draught." It was all she found herself able to say.
Lossenel nodded her head, not asking any more details, and she suddenly had the feeling that the snowy Princess did not wish to know the details, somehow being able to imagine them.
"That is good." It was all her older said about the topic, even though her worried eyes still glanced at the closed door once more where the ever silent and unmoving guards stood dutifully.
"I was looking for you." Her sister's voice suddenly turned lighter, shaking her platinum hair as if to force her thoughts in another direction. A pale thin arm laced around hers, pulling down the familiar corridor without even asking.
"Why?" She could not hold back the hint of suspicion that laced her words, her sister still dragging her along. Lossenel never pulled her anywhere.
"Because you are coming with me to the Queen's Halls today." Her sister said matter-of-factly, dragging into her bedchamber, her arm still laced around hers.
"Where?" She could not mask her confusion, her eyes almost immediately landing on the large wooden dollhouse that still sat at one corner of Lossenel's bedchambers.
"The Queen's Halls." The snowy Princess repeated, as though it was something so obvious, her delicate figure suddenly abandoning her and making her way towards the long elegant vanity.
She still did not know where or what that was, but decided against asking, watching instead her sister's back as her fingers opened and searched through what appeared to be various jewelry boxes.
"Why am I going there?" She ventured, taking a step back as her sister suddenly spun around, holding up a gorgeous emerald and white gold necklace.
"This…."Lossenel spoke to herself, ignoring her question. "This will look wonderful on you."
"Come here." Her sister beckoned, suddenly sounding bossy, and she did not know why but she felt that she better obey. So she followed where she was beckoned, nearly pushed to sit on the chair in front of the mirror.
"Lossie." She called sternly, just as the Princess placed the emerald necklace around her neck, seeming to be assessing its tones against her skin and the color of her dress.
"No, not this one." Lossenel shook her head, talking to herself once more, placing the necklace back on a silver box before rummaging for another.
"Lossie!" She hissed, this time managing for her sister's green-blue eyes to meet hers on the large mirror. "Why am I going to the Queen's Halls?"
Her sister's face turned suddenly serious, her delicate pale hand unceremoniously placing the silver and pearls hair pin she had been holding over the vanity. It let out a little twinkling sound, as though protesting its rejection.
"Because," When her sister spoke, all the previous lightness and smiling were gone from her voice, her tone low, deep "you need to be seen."
She opened her mouth, ready to protest but the platinum haired Princess cut her off before he could start.
"You have not interacted with anyone other than us since your arrival." Her sister spoke in that same serious tone, and she could not help feeling as though she was a child about to be taught. "Nobody knows you. Nobody sees you. I know the situations have force it, and that roaming through the Palace has become dangerous at times. But you need to be seen Almarëa. You need to become a real flesh and blood being to all in the Palace, not a figure seen only from afar or heard about. It might also help for you not to be seen as someone dangerous. So you are coming with me to the Queen's Halls, and will sit graciously and talk with the noble ladies and act your role as Princess….."
Here I leave you chapter 67! I had to stop it there because if I continued it into the next chapter it would be just too long. I hope you enjoy it! And I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!
Thank you so much to Amsim, auris-australis, Katy G, HannaOfLasgalen, Nymiriel, mystarlight, Ari-Skywalker, mMy, helenaxo, artvandelay5001 for your kind words on the last chapter! Thanks for sticking with this long story still!
Love,
Elena