The love of the King (Thranduil Fanfiction)

Acceptance

The day's light faded and brought upon the darkness of night. the full moon rose, emitting a soft light through the window of Eamane's room. The moon light made the room look even more beautiful than it did in the daylight, but Eamane couldn't marvel at it's beauty, her heart was broken

She was curled underneath the silver satin covers staring out into nothing. Thinking, about all the times she had asked Gandalf where she came from. Memories after memories flooded into her mind.

But her thoughts were interrupted by gentle taps at her door. Following the taps came the small elven maid that had brought her clothes a little while ago; she peeked through the door and almost whispered, "Miss? The king wishes you would come and dine with him."

Eamane sat up, yawning and stretching, before answering. "But I do not wish to dine with him."

"I wouldn't make the king cross with you, he has a terrible temper."

"I'm aware." Eamane scoffed.

"Please do as he says. If not for yourself then for my sake." Then, she backed out of the doorway and shut the door. Eamane wanted nothing to do with Thranduil and she especially didn't want to sit at the same table with him.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the moonlight shining on her pale legs. She stood, yawned and stretched again, walking to the vanity through the shadow made by the window.

She couldn't help but look at herself in the mirror.

Her plaitnum-blonde hair looked beautiful in the light, she couldn't deny it. It fell as soft as silk down past her shoulders, stopping just at her lower back. In honesty she loved it, better than the brown colored hair she had before.

She picked up the dress that the maid had left draped over the back of the vanity chair and slipped it on.

It was a silvery color, with long, huge sleeves, an extremely light brown cape, and a pattern along the top and around the waist in the same light brown.

It was beautiful, but not like any of the dresses Eamane had seen on the elvish women of Mirkwood.

dismissing that thought she started on her hair.

She brushed it back then fish-tail braided it like Legolas's, adding two braids that started just above the backs of her ears and connected underneath the original braid.

Finishing her hair she gazed at herself one last time in the mirror, then walked out of her room to join Thranduil.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hello." Thranduil greeted Eamane as she silently walked into the room. He sat at the very end of the magnificently huge table, sipping on a red tinted wine. He wore his silver robe, what she had first seen him in, but did not wear his crown. His hair was, of course, brushed perfectly as it settled on his shoulders and down his back.

"Sit." He motioned to the chair beside him. Eamane hesitated. She wanted to be defiant, like always, but there was something about Thranduil that made her want to obey his orders.

"Come, I do not wish to harm you." He said, smiling.

Eamane could have fainted. He smiled, at her. But it definitely suited him, the smile. It made him seem elegant, rather than frightening.

She finally acquiesced to his offer and sat cautiously sat beside him.

"I only wanted to see how you're faring. I felt as though you resented me for showing you who you really are." He took a sip of the wine and looked at Eamane through the corners of his eyes.

"I resent Gandalf." She mumbled quietly as she looked down and rubbed her hands together. Thranduil smiled again, this time sympathetically.

"I know; but you have to understand he only did it for your protection-"

"Protection from what? What would be so dangerous to make him feel like he had to lie to me?!" Eamane stopped, and spoke quieter, "My whole life I thought I was someone else, but it was only a mask; hiding who I truly am."

Thranduil gazed at Eamane, watching her every move. He felt a feeling deep inside of him, a feeling he hadn't felt since Legolas' mother. He loved this elf girl, but he couldn't risk showing his affection, or even acknowledging that it existed because of the fear of loosing her. He couldn't go through that pain again. But he couldn't stop admiring her, no matter how hard he tried; he just wanted her more and more.

"But now you know."

Eamane nodded slowly, on the verge of tears. She had never felt so betrayed and heartbroken in her life, even though she had stopped caring long ago.

"I don't hate you, or Gandalf really... Yes, he lied to me, but I can somewhat understand his reason. I hate myself because of Thorin."

Thranduil almost cringed at the name, but kept his composure and continued to listen to Eamane.

"I listened to his terrible stories about you, and learned to hate the elves as he did."

Thranduil hung his head. "What I did deserves his hatred. It was selfish." Eamane stared at the king. It almost looked like his blue eyes glistened with gathering tears, but he hid his face before she could tell.

"What do you mean?"