Thranduil could not have been more right. By the time Cílion was one, he was his mother's best friend. They were almost inseparable and looked almost identical. Both had the same shade of blonde hair and the same crystal blue eyes. Dawn hardly let him out of her sight, except when he was with his siblings. Legolas played with him and when he was three, taught his brother how to use a bow. Idril showered him with kisses and hugs whenever possible. Even Dearon liked spending time with his brother. While Legolas taught him to use a bow, he taught Cílion to use a blade.
However, Cílion rarely spent time with his father. Dawn never allowed it. Fearing Thranduil would fill his head with things no toddler should think about, like the history of the Woodland Realm. And as much as it sounded like Thranduil would attempt to spend more time with his son, he didn't. He was always too busy to seem to care. The only time he spent with his son was when he saw him at diner.
And that's when it started. On the eve of Cílion's fourth birthday, the family were quietly eating diner. Every now and then Cílion would whisper something to Legolas and Dawn, and they would share a giggle. Idril and Dearon smiled at him and his occasional silliness, like trying to balance his napkin on his head. Thranduil, on the other hand, found it very annoying.
"Cílion," his father warned. "Behave yourself."
"Enough," said Dawn. "He is only three."
"And he is too old for such childish antics."
"He is a child!" Before Thranduil could say anything more, a guard came rushing in.
"Sir, you are need to in the forest immediately! It is the spiders." The king nodded and the guard left.
"We will talk about this more when I get back. Legolas come with me. Dearon stay here with them." He stood and left, with Legolas right behind him. Dearon turned and glared at Dawn before getting up and leaving for his room.
Thranduil and Legolas had been gone for hours fighting spiders. Whenever the spiders were almost gone, another five dozen joined them and fight would go on.
"This is ridiculous," Legolas yelled. He shot three more spiders while Thranduil struck five.
"We must keep them back," his father replied. "We must protect the people." He killed four more, but as he turned to face Legolas, a spider stuck him threw his stomach.
"Ada!" Thranduil fell to the ground, gasping for air. Legolas slowly made his to him and pulled him away from the fight. "Get me a horse, now!"
Dawn paced around endlessly outside their bedroom. She had just tucked Cílion into bed, after reassuring him his father had only suffered a small scratch. She had hidden her fear quite well. She was worried about what his death would mean for her. Would Legolas make her leave? Or let her leave? What would happen to Cílion? Finally, a healer emerged from the room.
"Well?" Dawn asked. The healer looked down and swallowed.
"My lady," the healer started. "The spider's stung-"
"Will my husband live, yes or no?" The healer sighed.
"I do not know."
"What do you mean you do not know?"
"I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do." The healer bowed and left. Dawn looked after her before slowly making her way inside the room and to the bed. Thranduil lay there covered in sweat. She touched his arm and almost screamed. His skin was cold and clammy. She moved the blanket and looked at his wound. It was yellow and leaking puss. She quickly pulled the blanket back over him and backed away.
"That is not possible," she said to herself. "Elves do not get sick. And they certainly do not get wounds like that." From that moment on, she spent every morning and every evening taking care of him. She left him in the care of the healers the rest of the day, but she made sure to wash him off and change his bandages. The rest of the family often came to visit him. Even Cílion on his birthday came and laid with him, but did not Thranduil wake for any of it. He slept in a deep sleep, his breathing slow and even. This went on for three months.
The day he woke, Dawn had just about given up on him. She was about to leave him when he suddenly started coughing. She ran over and sat next to him. He blinked a few times and looked around before his eyes landed on her. She gave him a small smile.
"Hello," she whispered. He starred at her before leaning up and kissed her. Any other time she would have pushed him off, but something was different. As if him being so sick for so long changed things. She didn't care at all, even when the kissing turned to something more. And when it was over neither cared about what had happened.