The King's Heart (Thranduil Fanfiction)

Chapter 56

(Rhovanel)

The very moment Tarawen finished my hair, Rivornor stalks back into my room and starts screaming.

"Why are you not ready?! The ceremony is going to start in a matter of moments! Be done with it already, peasant," he yells, kicking Tarawen's legs out from under her. It is pure luck that Rivornor does not see the short sword that peeks out from under her skirts. My own blades are strapped to the inside of my legs because this dress is rather tight fitting.

Rivornor clears his throat obnoxiously, so I dutifully follow him out the door with convincing depression covering my face as a mask. Rivornor takes notice.

"Be happy! You get to live where others will die, like the previous King and his son," he snickers. He is lucky I have a plan that doesn't include his beheading at this moment. I blink some fake tears into my eyes and give my best impression of a defeated damsel.

He leads me to the great hall and slips through the door alone. Guards immediately circle me, expecting some kind of escape. I am done trying to escape.

I wait at the door for what feels like another hour (so much for starting in a few moments) and around halfway through, I saw guards dragging a limp Thranduil in the side door. He had tried to look at me, but had been beaten harshly for it.

I heard strained music coming from the hall, the kind that true musicians would run screaming from, and the sound of a small, out-of-tune choir. I would have thought Umon would want a large crowd for this spectacle, but when the door is opened, I find a near empty hall and the pathetic musical ensemble.

Umon strands on the raised platform with a malicious twist in his lips and wandering eyes. I'm glad this dress is not in the least bit revealing.

I can see a few friendly faces among the spectators, Fornor, Tarawen, an elf with Tauriel's forest green eyes, and a cloaked Haldir. They all look at me with anticipation; I can see them all clenching and in clenching their fists. Thranduil is tied to a chair to the side with four guards surrounding him and two more with arrows loaded and taunt. I start calculation our odds of survival, only to discover them slimming by the minute.

I sulk across the room, not trying hard to appear upset. Thranduil's face is bloodier than I have ever seen it, and I can hear his labored breathing from here. I let my burning hatred for Umon show as I step up to the makeshift altar.

Umon forcibly takes my arm and loops it through his own. I glance back into the small audience. They all wear grim masks of determination. Fornor must have recruited them all; he left Umon and Rivornor out of planning the guest list on such short notice. There are still more than fifty guards lined along the wall, and compared to our small force of perhaps fifteen lightly armed and dressed elves, it was unlikely we would all make it out alive.

Our 'ceremony' will be informally presided over by Rivornor. Umon apparently did not have a Helani Celanin elf under his control. Nor did he know how a proper wedding should be done because before I knew it, Rivornor was asking for objections. None would dare openly oppose an elven marriage, unless it were so fraudulent as this.

I open my mouth to say something, but Umon pinches my arm with knife-like nails. I see the blood in a matter of seconds. I turn slightly to see if Fornor has moved to stand beside Thranduil. He has, so I no longer have to act.

Faster than an eagle, Fornor kills the first guard with a bow and slices through the other's string. The room erupts into chaos, much like it did the first time Rivornor stood on this platform. Haldir has shed his cloak and is dueling with four guards to the right. The elf with green eyes is struggling with two men on the left, but another ally is rushing over to him.

Umon pulls a dagger from his robes and presses in into my back. "Don't move." I grin.

"You see the problem with acting like a king, is that sooner or later, you have to start accepting the fate of a king. And you, Umon, are not worthy of a king's fate. You lack all honor, and I will send your soul to the dark void where it can lie in eternal agony," I growl, spinning out of his grasp and freeing my blades. Rivornor and Umon leap forward with raised blades, but they are no match for my abilities, even in a dress.

Rivornor lands first, but is still incompetent with his left hand. I sweep his feet the moment he lands, then I slice his left arm off at the elbow.

While he rolls around in an ever-growing pool of his own blood, Umon lands and starts his own torrent of attacks and parries. I easily sidestep his advances and jabs, and wait for the opportune moment to finish it.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Fornor and Thranduil standing over a fallen elf. There is a faint rise and fall of the fallen's chest, but there is also a great deal of blood.

Umon lands a lucky strike to my side, and I gasp in pain before furiously driving my blades through his chest. He desperately tries to stab me, but I remove the dagger from his hand. Blood bubbles from his lips as he falls into the shabby altar. Smoke is wafting up from my blades as I jerk them from his body.

"Any parting words from he who never closes his mouth?" I mock. He beckons me closer so that I might hear him. I lean down within arms reach, thinking that he has no strength left to do anything.

"I hope you never curse this world with your offspring," Umon mumbles as he drives a long, thin shard of glass through my lower abdomen.