Her sleep was saturated with nightmares - full of vivid memories, rather than new scenarios.

The first time Kili smiled at her.

The time Kili pressed the runestone into her palm. A promise.

The time it was her turn to press the runestone into his palm again. His cold, dead palm.

A kiss on his lips. Unfeeling. Unmoving. Dead.

Her King, Thranduil. Slicing her bow in half.

Thranduil, in all his fierce and glorious beauty. Thranduil's grey eyes that saw through her skin and through her bones. The eyes that were full of power and rage and ice and fire.

Kili.

Thranduil's thumb running along her cheekbone in the forest clearing. Just the two of them.

Kili.

Another kiss. Passionate. Full of life. Charging through her blood. Charging through her soul.

Kili.

Thranduil.

Kili was fading.

'STOP IT!'

She didn't realize she had screamed til the silence that followed became deafening, and there was a rustle and a knock on her door.

'Tauriel?'

'I'm all right,' she called, wearily. 'Just a bad dream.'

The footsteps at her door thudded away gently, and Tauriel sat up, her head in her hands. If this had been any other night, she would have found a way out of her room, into the woods, in the company of her best friend. But Legolas had left Mirkwood to seek out a new ally, and it had hurt them both for him to go. Legolas had begged her to come with him. She had seen the pleading in his eyes. But she could not. Erebor had shown her that she had a lot of training and learning to do before she could face the world out there - and as much defiance and fire that she harboured in her soul, she would not do him well to be a dead companion.

She wondered how her life had been if she was able to love Legolas the way he had loved her. The thought of Thranduil's earlier acknowledgement that she was below Legolas because she was Silvan gave her a sick kind of pleasure.

'The King thirsts for the lowly Silvan elf,' she murmured, with a grin. The grin faded as quickly as it came, and she lay back on her sheets, her face grim again. What could the King want from her? What could have caused his sudden onslaught? Why her? Why Tauriel? The Highborn Elves were masterful, beautiful creatures - their women sleek and stunning, blonde haired and bright eyed. Tauriel had often felt out of place among the elite -with her blazing red hair and bow and arrow. They had never looked down on her per say - her favor with Legolas and by extension the King, was common knowledge.

She turned onto her side, curling up into a ball. A sudden unfamiliar feeling flickered through her - a desire to have someone to fall into, to hold. The nights were hard. She was often fitful and restless, and when sleep came - it was full of dreams of dying dwarves and the smiling faces of Orcs. But she was exhausted, and she closed her eyes, and let herself fall back into the pits of darkness that claimed her every night.

Consciousness came seeping back to her as she felt herself stirring in the morning. She lifted a palm to rub her eyes, squinting, then opening them, to adjust to the light. She laid back for a second - then yelped, and jumped out of bed.

She had overslept.

For the first time in her life.

She wrapped the sheets around her naked body and headed to her washing quarters to get cleaned up, holding them up awkwardly behind her with one hand, as she closed the doorway between the sleeping quarters and the washing. Letting the sheets drop, she splashed water from an elegantly carved stone basin all over herself and then sank into a stone bath; sighing as she felt the pleasant temperature of the water against her skin, enveloping her. She set about chewing a clove to get the taste of sleep out of her mouth, running her wet hands through her hair, observing how the red seemed to get even deeper when it was damp and clung close to her skin.

Tauriel stood up, grabbing a white cloth and wrapped it around herself. She found herself praying that she could get dried off and changed in fair time, so her absence in Mirkwood that morning would not be too extensive - and hopefully not noticeable. If one thing had to be given to her - it would be credit for the seriousness with which she took her work as a young Captain of the Guard.

She opened the door and stepped out of the washing quarters, and froze.

'Why are you in here?' she asked, her heart pounding in her chest. She kept one hand on the door behind her, praying to slip back into the bath quarters and to lock a door between them.

King Thranduil was standing in her quarters, at the foot of her bed, looking down at the tunic and pants that laid on her rumpled sheets, yet to be slipped into after her bath.

'Goheno nin.' Forgive me. He smiled. 'I did not see you this morning, so I thought I would stop by to see if all was well.'

'I slept later than I expected,' Tauriel replied curtly. She gripped the cloth hard in her hands, pulling it tight around her. She was painfully aware that a portion of her legs and torso were blatantly visible, as were her bare arms.

'Not a common mistake for you, Tauriel.'

She flushed at the sound of her name, and he did not miss it. The arrogant smile was back. And the anger was bubbling in her stomach again.

'If that is all,' she said sharply. 'I'm afraid you have caught me at a bad time, my King.'

'On the contrary,' he said breezily, his eyes raking over her. 'I cannot imagine a better time.'

She could see the light in his eyes. The deafening desire that was engulfing the room. The way he looked at her - her flushed, damp skin, her wet hair that clung to her shoulders and her collarbones. Her long legs. Her defiant mouth. Her challenging eyes.

He took a step toward her, and she took a step back.

'If you come any closer to me, I will go back in here and lock this door.'

'Tauriel, why do you act this way? You know any other Elven woman in this kingdom would present herself before me like a full course meal.'

'I am not any other woman,' she retorted scornfully.

'So you are not,' Thranduil agreed. He was wearing a high collared tunic of silver and green silk, which clashed in a magnificent way with his blonde hair - and although he did not wear any crown today, he had never looked more majestic nor startlingly beautiful.

She pointed to the door. 'Please take your leave now, my King.'

'Tauriel why do you run from me?' he asked, but the smugness in his voice was clear. 'Have you forgotten that night in the woods?'

She remained silent.

'Have you forgotten the way your eyes lit up or how fast your heart was beating - have you forgotten the little sighs that nobody has gotten from you but me?'

She glared at him.

'We have much business to discuss. When you are decent you may join us in the Throne Hall.'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. But before she could react, he closed the distance between them in two long strides, putting his hand on the door of the bath quarters, so she could not. She felt her back rubbing against the wooden exterior of the door. The burning in her belly was back - pressed between the door and the King.

He touched his mouth to her jawbone, and she shut her eyes, willing herself not to melt into his hands.

'Vanima Tauriel.' Lovely Tauriel.

'Please go,' she breathed, in a strangled voice.

'Then push me away,' he murmured, his lips at her throat. His hands brushed her hair over her shoulder, and the feel of his hands on her bare shoulders made her bite down on her lip.

'Push me away, Tauriel.'

She couldn't. She didn't want to.

He knew she couldn't. He dropped his hand from the door, pressing them around her waist and pulling her against him, her bare legs brushing against his boots, her shoulders and her collarbones pressing against the fabric of his tunic. She looked up at him, and was taken aback by the blaze of fire in the grey eyes.

'Never in my life... have I ever seen something so... divine,' he said. But even he sounded as though he was struggling - forcing himself not to rip the cloth from her body and taking her at that very second. He kissed her once - a startlingly rough kiss against her mouth - and then stepped away from her, leaving the room without a backward glance. The door shut behind him.

Tauriel let out a gasp, sinking to the floor. She didn't realize her legs had turned to jelly.

After she had dressed and braided her hair, she stepped into the Throne Hall to meet the rest of the Guards. Thranduil did not acknowledge her presence in the room, but the other Elves moved to the side to give her a preferential seating space - such as the rank of the Captain encouraged.

Thranduil was talking.

'As you may have realized, the Orcs - as filthy and disgusting as they are, manage to keep churning out thousands of themselves to create numerous armies.'

One of the Elves interjected.

'But has Erebor not quelled them?'

Thranduil gave a grim smile. 'To a point. But now that the Battle is over, they have assumed that many of the Elvish Guard have been decimated and brought down. I have received information that they plan on raiding Mirkwood soon in an attempt to further reduce our numbers.'

Tauriel felt her stomach knot.

Rennyn, her friend, stood up.

'My King, then we should take a company and take out their leaders before they attempt anything further.'

'Amin weera lassen lle.' I agree with you. Thranduil nodded. 'You are right Rennyn. It was my first option.'

'You cannot seriously be thinking of riding into Orc territory!' Tauriel found herself crying out.

Thranduil looked at her coldly. 'What is your alternative, brilliant Tauriel?'

'Prepare an army or a retaliation here! Be prepared for them if they come among us! Don't ride into their midst!'

'Orcs are notoriously stupid,' chimed in the first Elf who had spoken. 'If we are able to kill their leaders then they will be like chickens without heads - they will not know what to do. The lower class and breed of Orc has as much battle strategy sense as does a Hobbit child.'

'Yes but you act like their leaders are easy to defeat!' Tauriel responded, on her feet now. 'Thorin Oakenshield was killed! Fili.. and Kili..' she took a deep breath. 'They were brilliant soldiers and they were killed!'

'I believe my first rank of Guards and I will be tactical and a force to reckon with,' Thranduil cut across her. 'I will take my first rank. Twenty five of you.'

'Then I-'

'Not you, Tauriel.'

The rage burned in her throat, like bile. 'You cannot-'

'I have spoken.'

He turned in a whirl of silk and exited the meeting. Tauriel could feel the tears brimming in her eyes - tears of frustration and anger. All around her was a buzz of activity as the Elves began excitedly discussing Orcs and stupidity and battle plans - and it became too much for her.

She stormed out after the King.

'DOLLE NA LOST!' she shouted, causing him to stop in his tracks. YOU ARE STUPID!

He looked at her with such bemusement at her gall - that she felt like a little child about to be slapped by a rough parent. But she held her ground.

'How can you ride into battle against those Orc commanders with only twenty five guards? How will you force me to stay here?'

'You will do as you are told, Tauriel,' he replied, his teeth gritted.

'I cannot watch you go.'

The words burst from her before she could stop herself. She clasped a hand over her mouth. His cold bemusement flickered, briefly switching to a look of resignation.

'I am the King of Mirkwood, Tauriel. I must do what I must do. I will not put you into this fight.'

'I can help -''

He held up a hand to stop her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming at him - from punching him - from stabbing him with an arrow. And he could see it in her face.

The icy arrogance set his face again, and he turned and left her standing in the hallway. He paused halfway down the corridor, turning - but not facing her.

'I have already lost Legolas to the world, Tauriel. But I will not lose again.'

Hi everyone! This was a little late - and I'm sorry. But I hope you all have a Happy New Year and this year is beautiful for you all! Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and reviews on the story so far, you all have truly made my day. I hope you continue to keep up and review. xx