Thorns & Roses (Legolas Love Story)

1. P R O L O G U E

When I was a little girl, my understanding of revenge was as simple as the Sunday school proverbs it hid behind. Neat little morality slogans like "do unto other," and "two wrongs don't make a right." But in reality, when deception cuts deep, someone has to pay.

My father died an innocent man, betrayed all his life by the people he put his trust in. And in the end, he was betrayed by life itself. My father's chance for justice to have the life that he truly deserved was stolen from him. His only option was to forgive. But I have others.

When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes all you have left is revenge. 

***

I jogged back towards the house early in the morning, praying in my heart that my father didn't notice that I didn't come home last night.

Closing the door quietly behind me, my eyes caught the sight of several orange bottles of prescribed medicines from the doctor lay on the coffee table. I approached the table and sighed.

My father didn't take the pills I set aside for him last night.

"Annie."

My father's voice sounded from behind me. Holding one of the orange bottle in my hand, I spun around to face him.

"Dad, you forgot to take the pills–"

I trailed when my eyes landed on my father's face. I was stunned when I saw his smile.

And for the first time in months, this smile wasn't the one he forced just to reassure me that he was okay. No. This was a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and brightened up his whole person. A smile that for the first time in forever finally convinced me that he was truly okay.

I gazed at him in awe and wonder, watching the healthy streak returned to his face that usually was pale and sickly.

"Dad?" I asked, a smile involuntarily made its was on my face. "You look..." My voice got stuck in my throat, but my father finished my sentence for me.

"I know this sounds crazy, Annie," he said as he walked briskly towards me–in a way that he wouldn't be able to do yesterday or the past few months. "... But I feel great. I feel healthy. I-I'm lost for words. Honestly I don't understand how the chemo worked so fast but it did. I can feel it," he said, with beaming joy as he placed his hands on my arm. "Sweetheart, I'm okay. We both are going to be okay," he stated happily, pulling me into a tight embrace.

I was struck with awe and disbelief, and it took me a couple of seconds before returning my father's warm embrace.

"Oh, daddy..." I sobbed, unable to hold my joyful tears.

He pulled away from the hug and shook his head.

"No, no, no. I'm not having any of that," he scolded me softly as he wiped the tears from my cheek, still unable to contain his happiness.

"I'll tell you what," he suddenly added, a playful glint in his eyes that made me smile wider between my tears, "We're going to celebrate. You, and me, today after your shift, ice cream."

An amused laugh escaped me, making my father grin. I stared at him softly, watching how his grin made him look so much younger despite his already greyish hair.

I nodded eagerly and wiped my wet cheek. "Ice cream. How old are you anyway?" I teased him.

A smug grin appeared on his face. "Don't be lippy. And you might no longer be 8, but don't pretend you don't like ice cream anymore," he retorted playfully, making me roll my eyes and giggle.