"What do you mean you have a wedding to crash?" Arodeth demands. "I thought the King was rather clear on you staying here."

Tauriel laughs.

"Do you know me at all?"

"You can't have built your strength back yet! You were captive for days. You should be in bed."

"It's not as if I'm charging into battle," Tauriel argues. "It's just a party."

"I can't stop you, can I?"

"Not a chance."

Arodeth sighs tiredly and stoops to pick up a bundle of clothing off the floor; she must have dropped it when she threw her arms around Tauriel during their reunion.

"Here," she offers. "These are yours."

"Thank you," Tauriel beams, taking the clothes.

She dresses quickly and peeks outside in the hall to see if any guards are around. When she's certain the coast is clear she slips out, Arodeth close on her heel.

"I've got it from here," Tauriel insists.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. You don't even have your weapons."

Rolling her eyes, but not arguing, Tauriel continues on, heading for the main hall.

"No, not that way," Arodeth whispers.

She grabs Tauriel's arm as she is about to turn down the hall towards the main entrance.

"After all the rumors Lord Haewon has spread about you and the King, do you really think it the best idea to burst in the main entrance during the middle of the King's wedding ceremony? Follow me."

Conceding that Arodeth makes a fair point, Tauriel does as instructed and follows her maid.

Arodeth leads her through a series of halls she's never seen before, emerging into a bustling kitchen.

Cooks and servers are too busy preparing food and loading serving platters to pay them any attention, and the pair slip by virtually unnoticed. They go through another small hallway, this one emerging into the main hall.

Their entrance is near the head of the room, but it is in one of the few shadowed areas to give the illusion of servants just appearing when needed.

Tauriel's mouth goes dry as she sees what lies ahead of them.

Just ten feet away, under an altar of red and gold silks Thranduil and Neleth stand hand in hand.

Ready to tear the councilwoman limb from limb, Tauriel lurches forward, but Arodeth tackles her, almost sending them both flying to the floor.

"Let me go," Tauriel growls quietly, regaining her balance.

"You can't!" Arodeth begs, her voice no more than desperate whisper. "King Thranduil made it clear he had a plan, if you run out there you could ruin it!"

Still unsure what her plan is Tauriel struggles feebly, falling instantly still when she hears Lord Elrond speak.

"Do you both consent to this binding of your eternal lives?"

"I do," Lady Neleth simpers.

"I… do not," Thranduil states loudly, after a dramatic pause.

The shocked gasps from the audience are nothing compared to the shock and rage on Neleth's face.

"Y—you… H—how dare… we had a deal!" she sputters. "She will die for this!"

Neleth's last words are spoken so quietly that no one from the audience can hear her.

Pushing Arodeth's limp arms away (her maid seems to have gone into shock) Tauriel steps out of the shadows just enough for Neleth to catch sight of her.

"Sorry to disappoint you, councilwoman," Tauriel says coolly.

Neleth turns a ghostly white and falls silent.

Thranduil glances over at Tauriel and shoots her a "what the hell are you doing" look, and she retreats into the shadows once more.

X

Of course she came, he thinks. At least no one else saw her.

Forcing himself back to the task at hand, Thranduil takes hold of Neleth's arm and shoves her forward, forcing her to kneel before the audience.

"This woman," he says loudly, his voice echoing back off of the stone walls, "is a traitor of the worst kind."

Whispers ripple through the cloud, but most are rapt, waiting for an explanation.

"Councilwoman Neleth, has been using her position to try to disrupt my rule, make me vulnerable, and to further her own agenda," Thranduil condemns. "Right now, just a few days journey from our gates, is a camp. A camp filled with a small army of Orcs, all under the control of Lady Neleth."

Voices soar as people try to grasp what they're being told.

"Councilwoman Neleth?"

"An army of Orcs? Under the control of an Elf?"

"Making deals with the worst of our enemies?"

"This is not the only extent of her crimes," he continues louder, drawing focus back to himself. "Lady Neleth also persuaded members of our Guard to attack another member as means of distraction from her true goals!"

"Traitor."

"Traitor."

People whisper, testing the word as if it burns their tongues.

"In addition, she also planned an attack and the capture of three of our senior guard members! One of whom died during captivity. Councilwoman Neleth then attempted to use the capture of my Guard members to blackmail me into this wedding."

"Traitor! Traitor!"

The chant is more sure now, finding a steady beat.

"Captain Dagon?" Thranduil requests, nodding towards his most senior Guard member, who is now standing just feet away from the altar.

There is anger and betrayal on his face, and Thranduil knows he can trust him.

"Take her away," he says.

As Dagon approaches, Thranduil leans in to speak with only him.

"No one but myself or Lord Elrond is allowed near her. I mean it," he insists quietly. "Just you on guard at the moment, until I find others I trust. Take her to the guest wing, and disregard what I'm about to say."

Dagon nods and grabs Neleth's other arm, wrenching her to her feet.

"Move, traitor," he tells her seethingly.

"I want her in the deepest, darkest dungeon we have!" Thranduil commands loudly, so everyone in the room can hear.

He watches as Neleth is led back up the isle she so recently walked down, all eyes once again devoted to her; only this time instead of awe it is fury etched on the faces of those looking on.

Thranduil turns and offers a small bow to Elrond.

"Thank you for your assistance, my dear friend."

"I'm glad I could help," Elrond responds. "I trust you were able to accomplish all you needed to?"

"I was, but now there is more work to be done."

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"Actually, there may be. Would you permit me to borrow a few of your guard members for the evening? I need some I know are out of Neleth's grasp."

"Of course."

"Thank you," Thranduil insists. "Send them down to the dungeons. I will meet them there with instructions."

With that he takes his leave, disappearing into the shadows where Tauriel and Arodeth wait.

"What are you doing?" he asks. "I told you not to come, that I have this handled."

"I know, but I was worried about you!" Tauriel tells him. "I thought I might be able to help."

"You wish to help? Stay where I know you're safe. That's how you can—" he trails off. "There may be a way you can help."

"Anything!" she insists.

X

When Tauriel said "anything", this isn't exactly what she had in mind.

"You look so very lovely," Arodeth coos as she laces up the back of Tauriel's gown.

Thranduil decided the best way she can 'help' is to play bait. He intends to lock Tauriel away in the deepest darkest dungeon, where he announced to the kingdom Neleth would be, and have Tauriel masquerade as the councilwoman. Then perhaps Neleth's associates within the kingdom will attempt to free her and in the process reveal themselves.

"I still don't understand why this is necessary. Surely by the time they reach the cell, what I'm wearing won't be important," Tauriel huffs.

"It's all part of the illusion."

Tauriel stares glumly at the wall in front of her as Arodeth finishes securing her into Neleth's wedding dress.

It's a flowing white gown, bedecked in shimmering golden lace, and hemmed in jewels. It is probably the most extravagant thing she has ever worn.

Tauriel has never been one to fantasize about the day she would get married, in fact she never really gave the idea of marriage a second thought, she has always been far too busy working her way up the guard, but she is positive that had she ever pictured herself in a wedding gown it would not have belonged to someone else.

"If you step out of the shadows your hair will give you away," Arodeth sighs, "but you will do nicely."

The maid walks a slow circle around her, inspecting everything.

They are in Thranduil's chambers, at his insistence, preparing.

"I feel ridiculous," Tauriel complains.

Someone knocks abruptly on the door and lets themselves in.

"How are th—?" Thranduil's question dies on his tongue as he catches sight of Tauriel.

He blinks rapidly as if to be sure of what he's seeing.

"I'll, uh, just pop out, shall I?" Arodeth offers, slipping out behind where Thranduil stands frozen, and closing the door behind her.

Tauriel doesn't feel ridiculous anymore. She does feel something else flaring to life in her belly at the way his heated gaze rakes over her.

She knows then that she will never marry. No one else will ever look at her in a wedding gown the way her King does, and she will never ask such a thing of him.

"You… are stunning," he says softly, crossing the room to her.

Her cheeks flush.

Thranduil's hands come out to rest on her hips, pulling her closer until she is flush against his chest. He bows his head and she leans up on tiptoes, her lips seeking his out instinctually.

Need sears between them as their lips meet, but Tauriel pulls away almost instantly.

"What's wrong?" he asks, trying to pull her back, but failing as she steps out of his grasp completely.

"Don't," she pleads. "Not like this. Not while I wear the clothing of the one you were betrothed to."

"That was a sham."

"I know, but… I just… not like this," she repeats.

She doesn't want to admit the need coming to life in her, not the primal one he knows all to well of, but a new tiny blossom of longing for a life they cannot have.

"You need to lock me up," she reminds him. "We have no idea when, or if, someone is going to attempt to free Neleth."

Thranduil sighs heavily, but nods.

"Of course, you're right. My clever Captain, always keeping her King in check," he says playfully, reaching for her hand.

Tauriel allows him to take it, and Thranduil brings her fingers to his lips and plants feather light kisses along her knuckles.

They are very cautious on their way down to the dungeons, being sure not to be seen.

Thranduil unlocks the door to the cell at very furthest point down in his dungeons; it's the smallest and darkest one in the castle.

"Are you sure you are all right with this?" he asks.

"I told you, yes."

"Do you have something to protect yourself with?"

Tauriel sighs and hikes up her gown, revealing a long expanse of leg, and a dagger secured to her thigh with a garter.

With a sly smirk, Thranduil steps out of the dingy cell and pulls the bars closed with a loud clang!

"Be safe," he says.

"And you as well."

With that, Thranduil leaves Tauriel to her prison.

It's extremely dark. There is one torch burning slightly down the hall from her cell, but it casts only the smallest sliver of light into chamber.

Knowing it is going to be a long night, Tauriel settles herself in the corner farthest from the bars, wishing to keep her face hidden for as long as possible.

Time passes slowly, and boredom threatens to overtake her.

Tauriel wonders how Grond is doing and plans to go see him as soon as all of this is over. She hopes he doesn't have any permanent damage.

She also decides that she would like to further her knowledge of healing. She may know the basics of field treatment, but Grond's injuries were almost beyond her. Tauriel doesn't want anything like that to happen again. She wants to be prepared for everything.

The darkness and the last few days start to weigh on her, and Tauriel finds herself unable to stop from drifting in and out of sleep.

The first sign that someone has come for her is the soft footsteps echoing quietly down the hallway outside of her cell, pulling her from her fretful sleep.

She sees torchlight flickering off the stones and leans further into her corner.

When the light falls through bars it illuminates very little of her prison, and she's pleased to see the light only reaches as far as her lap. When she looks up at the person waiting outside the cell, Tauriel feels she must be mistaken.

"Nimmon?" she asks, keeping her voice a whisper.

"Yes, my lady," the short elf replies. "I came as soon as I could. We must get you out of here!"

Nimmon, Thranduil's aide, looks around nervously.

"Where are the others?" she presses, sticking to the shadows and speaking in whispers, hoping it will help conceal her identity.

"Others?" he questions, sounding surprised. "It's just me. There was no way for me to get Erwarth or any of the Orcs into the kingdom. Please, Lady Neleth, we must go. We haven't much time!"

Nimmon fumbles with a large ring of keys, flipping through to find the right one.

"How did you get past the guards?"

"I've been watching them for a while, learning when they take breaks or changes shifts," he replies.

He finds the right key and slips it into the lock.

Tauriel very carefully snakes her hand under her gown and removes her dagger.

The cell door swings open with a loud creak, and Nimmon steps in to offer her a hand.

She takes it and allows him to help her to her feet.

When Tauriel stands the torchlight encompasses her, revealing her identity.

Nimmon attempts to pull away with a gasp but she pulls him back towards her and places her blade to his throat.

"You're coming with me," she explains.

X

Thranduil is in his council chambers, sitting with Lord Elrond as they wait for news of Neleth's 'attempted escape'. It's well into the late hours of the following morning before any comes.

There is a knock on the door before it swings open to reveal Nimmon and two of Lord Elrond's guards.

Thranduil sighs and is about to shoo them away when Tauriel follows them, still looking a vision in her borrowed wedding gown.

His breath catches in his throat and heart speeds up at the sight of her.

It takes a pointed cough from Elrond to remind Thranduil of himself.

"What is going on?" he asks.

"I have brought you the traitor's accomplice, my King," Tauriel says formally, nodding towards Nimmon.

Thranduil is confused.

"You?" he asks Nimmon, who stares steadfastly at the ground. "Who else?"

"I do not believe there is anyone else," Tauriel replies. "I questioned him when he believed me to be the ex-councilwoman, and he seemed confused. I think he is the only other inside the palace working with Neleth."

Thranduil considers this.

He had expected to find out of a network of spies, but thinking of it now, this seems much more likely. It had seemed preposterous that Neleth would be able to sway so many not only to betray their king, but to ally with Orcs.

Nimmon however was perfectly placed to assist her. He had access to all of Thranduil's mail, all of his meetings, and had easy access to sending and receiving messages from outside the kingdom.

"Take him away," he orders. "Back to the dungeons. I'll send Captain Dagon to interrogate him later."

Nimmon refuses to speak as he is led away, shaking, never once looking up from the ground.

"Thank you, Captain Tauriel, for all of your assistance. That is all I will be needing at the moment," Thranduil tells her, feeling a pang at the required formality.

"Of course, my King," she replies, giving him a bow before exiting his chambers.

"So she is the one?" Elrond asks sounding amused.

Thranduil faces his old friend to find a small smile on his wise face.

"The one what?"

"The one Arwen swears you are in love with."

Author's Note: I cannot apologize enough for the long absence. I just hope you are all still with me! Thank you for sticking with this story!