painless wounds ;; the hobbit

mirkwood ;;

25 years ago.

Cyrille stomped into the throne room.

The guards hadn't even let her say goodbye to Bilbo. He was probably worried sick.

She looked up at The King, scowling.

Cyrille just wished he wasn't so sickenly good-looking. It was harder to hate hate someone if you fancied them.

"Why the face?" The Elvenking asked, lounging in his throne.

He wore a long silver robe and on his head sat a crown of twigs and berries. He looked quite regal.

"You asked me to be here?" Cyrille asked venomously.

"Yes, indeed, I felt you should be with your own kind and serve under me." The King said.

"Well here I am, your Majesty." Cyrille said sarcastically. "Your wish is my command."

"Why do you use sarcasm? And please call me Thranduil."

"I use sarcasm, Thranduil, because flat out telling you that you're a fucking dick is considered inappropriate and frowned upon, and I was raised better than that." Cyrille said, surprised at her own audacity.

Thranduil seemed unfazed by her rude comments. "Keep in mind that it was not me, but my father, who banished your mother, so you have no reason to dislike me."

You know, aside from the fact that he took her here without her permission.

Cyrille's expression didn't change.

"Legolas, show her around. Perhaps bring her to the library, or the training grounds."

An ellon about her age stepped forward, escorting her out.

"Hi, I'm Legolas." he said, once they were out of the throne room. He bore a striking resemblance to the king.

"The prince." Cyrille said dryly. "I'm Cyrille."

"You're rather short." Legolas remarked.

"Oh, is that so? Would you like to see me fight?"

"It would be my pleasure."

———

In the training grounds, Cyrille picked up a longbow. She shot it at a tree.

"Not bad," Legolas said.

"Just you wait," Cyrille said, nocking another arrow. It flew, slicing through the air, and landed in the exact spot in which the first arrow had, causing the wood to splinter into two.

Cyrille grinned a little and looked at Legolas, as if daring him to do better.

The prince shot down three acorns with an arrow.

"Fight?" he asked her

"Sure."

———

That night, Cyrille was still thinking of her time with Legolas. He was actually fun to be with, and she could laugh, and smile with him as if they were close friends.

Maybe Mirkwood wouldn't be so bad after all.

———

Three days later

"The king requests you have dinner with him tonight." Cyrille's maid, Arnarra, said. "He said you are to wear this dress." she gestured to the bed.

Cyrille had just gotten back from training, and was sweating profusely.

At the mention of the King, her mood immediately darkened. She spotted a pink dress on her bed.