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I closed my eyes as Thranduil's hand came down hard on the door, successfully stopping my exit. My own hand slid off the smooth wooden handle in defeat. Perhaps I had gone too far? Had I offended him? I never meant to, but he could be so infuriating!

I anticipated the worse scenario. But instead he gently picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I stayed in silent shock. What was he doing!?

"What…" I asked in disbelief. Was this actually happening?

"Shh!" he shushed me. I felt the palm of his hand connect to my buttock when I began to protest. I gasped loudly causing him to chuckle.

"Obedience to your king is something that obviously does not come naturally to you…" Thranduil chided softly, discarding me carelessly on the lounge. Before I could even blink, before I could react in any way. A soft and smooth yet demanding force pressured itself against my lips. He was kissing me. His hand slowly caressed my hair in a soothing strokes.

"How should I punish disobedience?" he teased, pulling back. Thranduil didn't smile but his eyes were filled with laughter. I lay in silence, I had no idea how to respond to that. His thumb gently slid of my bottom lip.

"I am sorry I upset you. I just worry, I could never stand to lose you again. When you went to her, to that creature you could have been taken from me. Forever once more." He said he had lowered his head so I couldn't see his face. I placed my hands on each side of his face so I could see what he tried to hide.

"What do you mean? again? I never left you." I asked softly, brushing his temple with the back of my fingers. All anger aside. He closed his eyes. I was given no response.

"Thranduil?" I asked, lightly prodding for an answer. He took a deep breathe.

"My wife was murdered by orcs... You are a reincarnation of her. I lost you once, I do not intend to lose you again! "He said in grievous appreciation, he slowly gorging my reaction. My eyes widened. What was I to him then? I looked like his wife. Is that why he had shown an interest in me to begin with. The conversation had taken such a dark turn.

I could feel my heart shatter. And it hurt terribly. I trembled in sorrow. I pulled away from him. He never stopped me. My hands slid loosely from his smooth ones. I turned away from him. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he regretted saying anything, it pained him.

"But I am not." I barely managed to utter. I refused to cry in front of him. I left then, not once glancing over my shoulder to what I was leaving behind.

"No, you are not." Thranduil mumbled after her. She did not hear.

The pain was unbearable, worse than any flesh wound. I hadn't managed to get far or maybe I did. I really couldn't tell. I rested against something cool and hard.

I slid down the carved column. I stayed quietly in the shadows as not to draw attention to myself. I could barely sense the tears slipping from my eyes and making their fast descent down my cheeks. He did not love me. He could not possibly love me.

…

Thranduil carried his concentration like an over brimming cup. He could feel her crushing pain. He felt ill. He was the cause of this. He loves Ivoriel he realised and not just because she reminded him of his late wife. Ivoriel was different, she was precious to him. Their bond was strong. Or had been at least. His breathing became ragged. He had hurt her, with her pain came his crippling anguish.

He would not do anymore paperwork he decided. He picked up the elegant wine bottle and wine glass from a side table, where Galion had been so kind to leave it for him. He poured himself a glass until the dark liquid rose to the very edge. He sipped it at first then drank more deeply. Thranduil unfastened his robes which sank to the floor in a heap. He had already finished that cup and was unsatisfied at the still raw feeling left in his chest. He abandoned the cup and went to bed with the bottle. He would drink until he could no longer feel her pain which he could feel most acutely. Or his even own.

…

Estennil knew of Gwaenor's intentions if he returned from the upcoming battle. She knew he would return. He had too. Gwaenor had made his purpose abundantly clear when he walked through her door today. She could see the look of determination in his eyes.

He strolled up to her but instead of letting him take her hand she pressed a finger against his lips to stop him from talking. She appraised him lovingly and kissed the corner of his mouth in silent understanding. He let out a contented sign.

"I will take that as a yes?" he said happily, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her in a fast circle.

"Yes!" she replied blissfully. Gwaenor gently ran his hand through her hair.

"Well then. My betrothed." He sang delightedly. He kissed her jawline then her cheek.

…

Hatholon was in search of Ivoriel. He had promised to paint her and he fully intended to keep that promise. He wondered for a long time around the halls. He eventually came across a familiar strand of hair that escaped the shadows behind a pillar.

He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was, especially when the darkness of angst clouded her features. He would not cause her anymore pain then was necessary, so he never asked what happened. Instead he offered her his handkerchief, she didn't respond to him so he lightly wiped her tears from her cheeks and eyes and pulled her into a friendly embrace. He cared for her. She was one of the only friends he had had for a long time.

Hatholon looped his arm around the crook of her elbow, supporting most of Ivoriel's weight. Not that she was heavy in the slightest.

Hatholon decided to take her to the stables that always cheered her up. Seeing the animals there. And who knows maybe they might even see the elven king's great elk. Arasdir, such a proud and strong creature he was. Hatholon led Ivoriel outside, she had stopped crying but she was awfully silent. No matter, Hatholon thought optimistically. He would try to cheer her up.

Out of 10 guys what would you rate this story as? Love to know your thoughts on this chapter! And I am soo sorry about any spelling mistakes.