"Lies, they are like darkness in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind." – Cassandra Clare

It was dark. The castle was plunged in silence. Whoever heard elves and a castle would surely laugh. But there had been a time when there were such elves. Proud elves, elves that were as strong as they were agile. The Vanyar, the blessed cursed elves. The elves that were first created by Ilúvatar. And the darkness took them first as they had been first in the light. A mockery to the creator. Or perhaps a mockery to those who believed in one as their prayers went to naught. Slowly the darkness had come. Slowly it ate away at the souls of her people.

She was young then Ingwe, named after the might her people. The night frightened her as did the storm. In the night she could hear her Adar and Naneth arguing in hushed voices.

"Please my love we must consider there help!"

"They will not come; you think they know not of our troubles?" Her Naneth's voice was sharp, accusing.

"You are being arrogant!"

"I am being reasonable. If the plight was theirs I would not go!"

"Dearest!" The voices escalated but the thunder was louder. She knocked hesitantly on the door the voices did not stop. Sighing she made her way back to her chambers. They shouldn't argue. It was wrong. For years now something was off about her Naneth. She was colder more distant. And the guards and maids were cooler as well. They barely sang. She was nearing ninety but she was no child.

Suddenly the air felt cold. Like blood had been spilled. Her eyes widened as her nose caught more of the scent. She threw on her riding livery and pulled two knives from their holders. Slowly she eased open the door hearing shrieks outside she flung it open only to be met with a horror beyond recognition. They were all mewling on the ground. All of them dark twisted sick.

"Come quick my princess!" A hand grabbed hers and pulled her from her shock.

"Whats going on?"

Her friend shook her head as they both ran through the winding passages. Much was a blur melded and forgotten twisted in dream. The most prominent moment was her friend suddenly gasping falling to her knees. She pulled but her friend shoved her away.

"Run!"

"Not without you! Just one more door please!" A shudder went through her friend's body and suddenly her friend was elf no longer but something darker, twisted. She hissed lunging for Ingwe and then everything was covered in blood. That was the last of the Vanyar elves. The castle and forests burned the darkness twisted all else now better known as the dead marshes.

Ingwe woke up with a gasp her eyes landing on the elven blade pressed to her neck. "I have always guessed at your olive skin. Why it was not as fair as mine, the waves in your hair, the deeper shade of color in your eyes, the age. Always I had brushed it away as attentions for love of you. Everything is clear now."

"Thranduil?" She begged hair still disheveled from her ordeal.

His eyes hardened. "So the cursed Queen of the Vanyar has come to corrupt my halls?" A sardonic smile twisted his lips. "You talk much in your sleep my Queen, how well you hid the truth. Two years? But mere seconds to us immortals you have lost much of your power it seems."

"It's not what you think!"

"What would you know of my thoughts?" He snarled. "It is fortunate the other realms looked to their own borders when the darkness rose else this shame would be known to all of middle earth and all the elves would be spit at for your treachery!"

"I know you would hear me out else you would have killed me in my sleep!"

"Perhaps or perhaps it's your enchantments which prevent me from doing so? Speak quickly or I shall part your head from your worthless shoulders orc." He spat the words his eyes afire in cold blue light.

"Princess not queen." She whispered all fight had left her. Truth will out after all. "The cursed Queen was my mother, seduced by Sauron."

The blade left a thin mark on her flesh as he pressed it deeper. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I-"

"Was Elrond in on this?" He yelled. "Is this his doing? Have you seduced him as well?"

There was not much to say after that. The union was broken. She was released from the dungeons only after Thranduil confirmed her story with Lady Galadriel. She left with a heavy heart cleaved in half by her grief. It is rare for elves to love and for such a thing to be destroyed. Thranduil lingered but he had his son and realm to think about. She never had anyone. Not after her people were corrupted. Not after her years of solitude not after Thranduil. She had never understood how she survived but perhaps she had escaped fast enough from the darkness or perhaps she as Galadriel claimed was too pure to be turned. Whatever the reason she now wished she had turned as well. She walked in Elrond's halls not seeing where she went the music falling like water drops off polished rock not easing her empty heart. Her face was ever youthful but she was old. Too old to carry such a burden. It was a month before she realized she was with child. She came to Elrond but he urged her secrecy. Legolas was already a target for the orcs. Her child would only be in danger till he learned to wield a blade. And besides better for a happy carefree childhood then one covered in uncertainty doubt and alienation. He had foreseen the birth of a child. But nothing had been certain until she was wed. She lived on for a time and little more after his birth but her heart held too much. And even his dark blue eyes and contemplative elfin features so reminiscent of Thranduil did not ease her heart. He would make a fine warrior she thought as she gazed out the window at his sword play. He takes after his father. Swords over bows. The thought brought more pain then joy and suddenly she felt her heart constrict. The light in her eyes that was fading dimmed. It was his face she saw as her son clambered on her lap wooden sword discarded when he had seen her distress.

"Naneth? Naneth? Elladan! Naneth isn't answering! NANETH!"

"Thranduil." She whispered. Something was shaking her yelling and feeling her pulse and then nothing. The Lady Ingwe had passed.

Adar-Father

Naneth- Mother

Ingwe- was the name of the first leader of the Vanyar elves hence his name first one, I saw it fitting that the Vanyar princes be named after such a personage.

Vanyar- are considered the fairest of all the elves, hence their name which means fair elves

Next chapter, Glorfindel makes an appearance, will be up tomorrow. Read and Review!