The prophecy of the elvish warrior

The kings soft side

Some time later, I found myself in the presence of three men. Thranduil, Haldir and Legolas having a deep conversation about the diplomatic future of the Elven realms, while I kept on listening to their talk. We had taken a quick bath after the long ride and battle with the spiders to get rid of the horse stench and spidery remains. My hair hadn't fully dried yet, so I twisted it into a loose bun in the back of my neck.

From time to time I could feel Thranduils eyes raking over my body, but I chose to ignore his staring, remembering what happened the last time. Him setting down his goblet with force and taking a deep breath made my eyes flinch towards him, but I didn't dare to face him directly.

"Visha. Please. Look at me." Thranduil asked and I gave in to his words, not wanting to anger him. Even though Legolas assured me, that his fathers behavior would change, I was still wary of the elven king. I didn't say a word and waited for him to speak again, obviously making him confused. "Why do you not talk to me?" He questioned, a curious look on his face. I shrugged my shoulders. "I was forbidden to speak to the king, unless I was asked a question. My father was very strict about this rule."

My answer didn't seem to satisfy him, because he pressed on: "Tell me about your life at court." I sighted deeply, tilting my head back in thought. "It wasn't nice." I started slowly, making time to properly think about my answer. Thranduil just smiled and waved a hand. "Please, do not bother with wording. I want you to speak freely."

I squinted my eyes, searching his to find any double meaning or hidden threat, but there was nothing I could pin point besides pure curiosity. "I was born as the second daughter of king Adrastos of Cintra. He was a strict and cruel man. Not really interested in our wellbeing. He married my older sister off to strengthen a crumbling diplomatic relationship when I was six. She was 16 and he was 20. It wasn't a happy marriage. Full of violence. My sister begged to be allowed home, but my father wouldn't budge one bit, so she killed herself and her two sons at the age of 20.

Because my father raised us to be perfect wifes and queens he was disappointed to say the least. Well, furious would be a better description. He was never physically violent with us, but that didn't mean he wouldn't punish us for disobeying his rules. And there were many. We had rules on how to sit, walk speak, dress, eat, sleep and whatever you can think about. Growing up I was taught by several tutors in different languages, sewing, embroidery and general historical knowledge. And honestly, I had a better relationship with my tutors than I had with my father. All he cared about was his reputation and therefore we had to be perfect. But I was different. I always found ways to sneak out of the castle, play with the other children, or flee on my horse into the woods. Thinking back, it had to be stupid luck for me to never get in any great danger.

But that changed when I was ten years old. We got word that my sister had died and that I was to be expected to be the next wife for the man who indirectly killed my sister. She had sent me a last letter to warn me about my future and I was terrified. I begged my mother to not let me be married to that man and for the first time in my life, she actually fought my father on something. It didn't go well, I don't know what exactly happened, but she came back with a black eye and split lip. I thing you can imagine the part. Anyway, I don't know what and how she did it, but she got my father to not give in to the request of my hand.

Weeks later, we were at war and I got rescued by a man named Geralt, whom I would call my father for the next 12 years. He trained me on how to fight and to survive in the wild, taught me to control my magic and I became a witcher like him. My last quest brought me here, as I was pulled under water by a creature we call a drowned dead. Vile beings. Criminals that have been rejected by death himself and sent back to torment the living. I don't know how I got here, but I did and it seems like it was written in some kind of prophecy. At least that's what I have been told by Lady Galadriel." I ended my story, looking down on my plate.

Thranduil and the other two kept quiet, until the king raised his voice again. "I am sorry for your loss. I really am. As I myself know how it is to lose the one being that you held dear for a very long time." He reached out for Legolas, taking his sons hand in his. "At least I still have my son. And I truly wish to mend our relationship." The honest pain in Thranduils words made me smile and even Haldir had a fine smile on his lips. Legolas looked his dad in the eyes, wordlessly accepting his affection, squeezing his fathers hand in return. Then the king looked back at me. "But that part of your past I have been told. What I am more interested in, is how you were raised. Legolas had mentioned you were raised differently. Do you care to explain that further?" 

I offered him a smile, finishing the bite I had taken, before I spoke again: "As I already said, growing up, I wasn't allowed to talk unless asked. It has been that way for all the women. We weren't seen as full members of court. An extension to our husbands. An object to show off, if you want. Even though I was taught many things, I was not allowed to openly show my education, as it was seen as indecent if a woman would openly speak her mind. Some even went as far as accusing women who in their eyes possessed to much knowledge as witches, inedible leading to being outcasted, sometimes even killed.

So, I silently studied, broadened my knowledge. Because the hypocrisy was, that I as a future queen was expected to support my husband with the things I knew. I was just forbidden to do it openly, to not outshine him. I was very good with languages, so my father made sure I would speak as many as I could, so that whenever I was to host a feast, I could interact with guests from all over the world." I stopped giggling at a thought I had. Thranduil raised a brow, slightly leaning forward. "What is it, my lady?"

Shaking my head, I answered: "I just thought how differently I was raised. The first ten years were filled with nothing but dry theory. Hidden between the long and draining rules of conversation. A simple request could easily be turned into a four sentence charade of embellished words. And after I was rescued, things changed. Geralt was more of a practical and physical man. He taught me how to fight and I mean that literally. The first thing he did was hunt me through the gardens of Kaer Morhen. He wanted to see what I would do in the eye of danger." I stopped now laughing freely.

"Just imagine a gown man, covered in armor and marked by his many battles hunting a ten year old girl like the devil himself. What he didn't expect was my abilities to climb, so the first opportunity I had, I climbed the castle wall actually making it out and into the woods. To this day I don't exactly know what it was that he wanted. He never told me. But I expect it was to see what type of person I was and to figure out how to make a fighter out of me. And that he did. I underwent 8 years of daily physical training and lessons to keep up with my theoretical knowledge as well. At the age of 18 I was officially made a witcher and from that day on I accompanied him on his quests and journeys across the lands.

It was wonderful. Just him and I, sometimes accompanied by Jaskier a bard who wrote songs about us. Geralt wasn't a very social man, always very stoic and unmoved, but he was a great father. Always making sure I felt safe and loved. Life with him was easy. Nobody cared about the way I spoke, looked or ate. So, when I lost him, it felt like I lost the reason of my life. And thinking back, I hope he knows how much I love him and how much he positively influenced me..." Stopping my monologue, I blinked several times to hold back the tears from falling.

Haldir took it as a que to change the topic. Pinning the kings attention back to him, he asked to have a private conversation after dinner.