Howling ghosts – they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.

'Howling ghosts – they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.
And in the sea that's painted black,
Creatures lurk below the deck
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.
A lionheart.'

White embers are falling from the sky and Thranduil and Tharwen are standing together as the aftermath of Tharwen's magic burns everything in sight till the horizen, leaving charred lands and small white fires burning around them.

There's burnt and marred flesh of dead bodies around them, some recognizable helmets, belonging to orcs, goblins and the gruesome creatures that serve the Kiz'lan, others too burnt to be recognized.

Blood is glinting in the white flames and Tharwen can hear Thranduil whispering to her, pinning a brooch to her leather vest over her armour. He cups her neck with both hands, locking his fingers and he gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Realization hits her and so does grief and she breaks down crying, falling to her knees and Thranduil follows her, kneeling in front off her as she cries for Dharwen.

' "We have to fight for our people, for our land." Tharwen said, tilting Dharwen's head up to look at him with fiery eyes. "We can do this." She smiled.

They looked out over the battlements and gazed down at the army below the walls. They were gruesome creatures, with marred flesh and scared spirits, glowing red eyes with sharp teeth. In the center of the army stood a man cloaked in black leather and armour, helmet on his head and spear raised in one hand and a mace in the other.

He seemed to lock eyes with Tharwen, giving her a sadistic grin and drew a line across his throat...'

She holds onto Thranduil as she cries, screams into the air, shouts and curses at the sky before growing quiet. She can feel a burn in her heart and suddenly one half, she feels, grows cold and she loses some off her will to live.

She becomes aware that Thranduil's holding her still, tears falling freely from his eyes as well, one off his hands carding through her hair, offering comfort. He whispers to her and tells her everything will be alright again.

Tharwen opens her eyes, blinking the sleep away and finds that she's still curled up with Thranduil, she could feel his soft breathing, his breath hitting her neck at every exhale where he's burried his face into the side off her neck. She could hear his soft, kitten like snores that she deemed adorable from the beginning off their friendship. She could smell the berry essence in his shampoo, the one she deemed was way to girly for Thranduil to use. She could feel the bare skin of his palm resting on her forearm comfortably and protectively.

"Cold as ice and more bitter than a december winter night, that's how I treated you, and I know that I sometimes I tend to lose my temper and that I cross the line. That's the truth, I know it gets hard sometimes but I could never leave your side. No matter what I say, cause if I wanted to go I would have gone by now but, I really need you near me to keep my mind off the edge. If I wanted to leave I would have left by now but you're the only one that knows me, better than I know myself." She confessed, turning to gaze down at Thranduils' blurry figure cuddled into her side. "You stopped me from losing my mind." She smiled down at him, feeling him stir.

"Hey." He mumbled to her softly.

"Hi." She said softly, feeling strangly more content than usual.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Bored." Her reply came with a gentle smile. "Hungry." She listed, turning to face him. "Trapped."

"I think, I still have your violin. If you want to play?"

"You kept it?" She asked, forcing herself to sit up.

"Of course I did, what kind off brother would I be if I didn't keep one off your most prized possessions." He retorted.

"A pretty bad one." She joked looking at him with a bright smile.

"Of course." He drawled sarcastically.

"Yes, dear brother, because you would be the most idiotic in the world to get rid off my violin, especially when I'm so attached to it, more than it is possibly safe for my mental health." She shot back with the same amount of mirth in her tone.

"Of course it isn't safe for your mental health, you're attraction to the thing is un-natural and drives me crazy wondering why you got one that looks so dark and solemn."

"The thing was painted black tôr iuar", not like you'd understand with your ugly taste in clothes. Your favourite colour is silver, although it brings out your hair quite nicely and your eyes. I prefer dark clothing anyway you know that!" She ranted.