Princess of Arnor - The King's Regent (Under Edit)

Chapter Eight: A cruel and twisted fate

"What have you done to me?" - Thorwen

When Almárie's eyes slowly blinked open, she was not in the Halls of Waiting as she had expected. Instead, she was lying in a large luxurious bed on top of black silken sheets with black and gold bedclothes. She couldn't see what was beyond the bed because the black drapes were drawn. Confused by her surroundings, she threw open the drapes to find herself in a beautiful bedchamber.

Large deep piled rugs of black embroidered with gold covered the flagstone floor. The walls and ceiling were the colour of the night sky, with the constellations painted in bright silver. The stars even twinkled as Almárie slowly rose from the bed and navigated the chamber. Every single object and piece of furniture was in black and gold and made of expensive materials. Everything was perfect, too perfect.

She looked at herself in the Ebony and gold full-length mirror and found that she was wearing a sleeveless black gown, made of fine silk, that clung to the contours of her body perfectly. The gown was almost see-through, making her feel exposed and uncomfortable.

Almárie suddenly had the feeling she was being watched. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck and a shiver went through her body. She returned to the bed to look for a robe. But yelped with surprise to find Thranduil draped over the covers. He was wearing a black and gold robe and his bright eyes moved over every inch of her body. A stiff smile grew on his face. "Did I startle you?"

"W-where are we?" asked Almárie.

Thranduil rose from the bed and casually approached her. "The war is over, Almárie. We are victorious. Now we can be together. We need only speak the words and ... join with each other." He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. But there was something different about his touch. She shuddered and stepped away from him.

Initially, Thranduil looked puzzled, then he smiled thinly and gestured to the bed. "What are you afraid of? It's perfectly natural. Even the Orcs do it."

He stretched his hand out to her. But Almárie remained still. "Where are we?" she demanded.

Thranduil's thin smile grew into a smirk. "You are perfectly safe. We are home, in my chamber. Now come and let us mark this victory with our union."

Almárie scanned the room again. She had, never been into the king's bedchamber before, and it was certainly opulent. But it did not feel like the most intimate space of a woodland king. Almárie made another small step backwards.

"I was bitten by a giant spider. How did I get here?"

"My scouts rescued you and brought you to me, of course?" He strode towards her, chuckling, cupped Almárie's face in his hands and went to kiss her, but again she pulled away.

"What of our oath? To my father? We swore we would wait till Arwen was wed. I want to be with you, too. But I will not break my word to Ada!"

The smile from Thranduil's lips died, replaced by a frustrated grimace. "Honorable Elves," he uttered through gritted teeth. Then his eyes turned yellow, like a cat's and his features changed to her cruel adversary.

Almárie trembled before him. "Sauron," she whispered. and in a desperate bid to escape, she ran towards two shutters.

"Come now Almárie, it was just a game and I prefer you to address me as Miaron." His cruel chuckles rang in her ears as she fumbled with the latch in her panic. Once Almárie had opened it, she threw open the doors only to find they opened onto a balcony at the top of a very high tower. Huge dark clouds blocked the sky, and the air hung with the smell of sulphur. In the distance, she could see a great volcano towering above the landscape. "Barad Dur," she whispered.