Darkest Nights | Love of Royals: Book II

XIX: Moments

Fíria's POV

My heart pounding, I push open the bedroom door to find Legolas, as expected, waiting for me in the corridor. Inevitably, he smirks.

This incredible evening, for the grand celebration of the Feast of Starlight, I have been gifted with a special dress. The beautiful thing is made of a rich dark purple silk, with coiling strands of silver extending down the lengths of the floaty skirt and sleeves—the sleeves that cover my entire arms, so to conceal my scars. I always wear sleeves long enough to cover them in front of people other than Legolas, and tonight, I guarantee the amount of eyes on me will be vast. The lack of slits or a low-cut back makes sure my secrets stay hidden, too. A perfectly modest gown, yet equally stunning as every other Legolas has had made for me.

Legolas's gaze drinks up my breathtaking attire, lingering fondly on the full moon necklace gleaming bright and stark against the deep hue of the dress. Every day, I still carry Lyrenna with me, and the promise I made to myself that I would get her out of my father's hellish domain when I saw her again.

'You look beautiful,' he remarks, stars awakening in the blue of his eyes.

'So do you,' I reply. He does indeed, stood proudly before me with his white-blonde hair shining as always, and clad in pristine robes in forest colours. The lamplight accentuates his fine cheekbones as he leans in to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

'This is going to be a wonderful night,' he says onto my mouth, while twirling a lock of my hair around his finger.

'As long as I'm with you.'

Another quick kiss, and he is forced to drop back to my side as we journey up towards the bustling hum of the high halls. A wave of sound and light greets us, and before us through the vast network of decorated halls are elves talking and laughing and drinking, all more excitedly and animatedly than I have ever seen before. There is a circular space cleared in the centre of one of the larger rooms—a dance floor. It must be, since rows of minstrels with various instruments have set themselves up nearby.

I scan the whole place, but I don't see Ílren or Tauriel anywhere.  The former has spent the last couple of days helping out in the wine cellars, and became fast friends with some of the Silvans who work there, including Gelya.  Gelya doesn't even work there normally, but she was assisting her fiancé Galion in the busy season of the Feast. 

The latter, however, has been in and out of meetings with the guards, with the royals and advisors.  Legolas has had to join her sometimes, and then returned to our rooms to flop onto our bed and complain for a while.  I couldn't help but laugh at my spoiled Prince laid on his back, whining like an elfling. 

Agitated voices alert me from a corridor leading off from the hall with the dance floor, and unmistakably, they belong to the two most recognisable figures in the kingdom. The two others I couldn't spy anywhere in the open—Thranduil and Elena. What in Arda are they doing, hiding themselves away on such an important night for Elena in particular? This is the night where her light is celebrated above all others. She should be taking centre stage—not like that's a change from the usual routine in this place.

Noticing that Legolas is about to walk off without me—attracted to the drinks, I'd imagine—I grab his hand, and he stops in his tracks. The Prince makes a few noises of protest as I drag him through the crowd and lean against the wall near the corridor that curves away, shielding the King and Queen from view. Once we arrive, Legolas knows to silence himself.

'Fourteen years, Thranduil. Fourteen years she's been like this, and we have done nothing,' Elena's voice says in frustration.

'That is not true,' Thranduil sighs, 'we have both tried speaking to her on previous occasions, have we not?'