Queen of the Woodland Realm [Thranduil]

Prologue: The Queen

Author's Note: Hello there! It hasn't been terribly long, but Middle Earth is back in my writing routine! Recently, when I finished my Legolas x Tauriel fanfiction, "Playing with Fire", I realized that in the love story of Thranduil and his wife, Anona, there is much unsaid. With that, I decided to write a fanfiction all about Thranduil and Anona, an elleth I created to be Legolas's mother. Now, if you've read "Playing with Fire", you'll know some stuff about Anona already, but this goes way deeper into her past. ;)

Dedicated to @_imagine_fantasy_ for her fantastic cover that she made for me!

Here, we have glimpse of Thranduil and Anona's life...when a small Hobbit makes his appearance :)

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Anona Arvellas runs her hands over the soft sheets. Her dark azure gaze finds the window, where bars of light seep in, much like the woods in which she used to frolic. But she doesn't want to think about that. Not now.

A soft knock at the door draws her attention away from the sun. Back to reality-to the infirmary-to her prison where she shall live out the rest of her days.

"Come in." Her voice is tired, hoarse. She hardly sounds like an elleth anymore, let alone the wife of the King.

Half of Healer Galu's fair face makes its way into her bedroom. "You're awake. Good. You have a visitor, my Queen."

"How many times have I told you-" she is cut off by a small cough that forces its way out of her chest. Her hand comes away red. She ignores it. "-To call me Anona?"

"As many times as your other servants, my lady," he says, ignoring the specks of blood on her fingers. "Shall I let them in, then?"

Her gaze is amused now, and she tilts her head slightly, so that her lustrous caramel hair catches in the sunlight. "Who, Galu?"

"I'll let you see."

He opens the door a little wider, and allows them to enter. Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of her family, and she stifles another cough. This is not the time to worry them.

He kisses her forehead, as always, and her children give her gentle smiles. She returns the sentiment; the sight of them makes speech quite impossible.

"How are you feeling?" It's her son who speaks first. He pulls up an oaken chair next to her bed, beside his father and sister, who have taken the silk sofa.

He knows her answer already. He just wants her to say it, and she does not plan on doing any such thing. "Fine."

"Don't lie, Anona," the King says from beside her.

Her eyes find her husband's, and she dares him to say more. To speak of their private moments, when he comes to her room to find her vomiting so violently she can barely breathe. When she stains the linen with scarlet blood, and he must hold her while she weeps. With her eyes- a shade darker than his-she dares him to bring it up in front of their children.

He doesn't. So she turns to her son again, whose face is a mask of concern. "How is my Greenleaf?"

He flushes slightly at the affectionate pet name, before responding, "I'm good, Nana [mother]. I'm more worried about you."

She swallows another cough and lays her cool hand atop his. "Legolas, you are too young to worry so much over the things you cannot control."

Their eyes lock-one with eyes of melting glaciers, the other with eyes of the tormented ocean-for a mere moment before he tears his gaze away. "Kelda painted something for you."