A/N: So even though this sounds really creepy, I'm shipping Tauriel and Thranduil so hard right now. BOTFA feels, I suppose. Anyway, I wrote this little thing. I do take prompts and ideas, if anyone has anything...other than that, enjoy!

Four months after the Battle of the Five Armies…

A hundred years was a mere blink in the life of an Elf. Tauriel had heard that saying many times. Her kind were the first beings ever to be created—even coming in first before Man. Elves could not die, save being killed in battle. They never aged past their prime, or got sick. The majority of the time, Tauriel was proud of that. She could outlive even the Dragons of the North. But occasionally, time seemed to slow, until she was experiencing every passing minute and second as a mortal Man might.

On this particular morning, the Silvan Elf sat, legs crossed, on the bank of a smoothly flowing stream. Winter was just beginning to loosen its icy grip on the forest of Mirkwood, but the air still held the crisp chill, and snow lay in odd patches where it had managed to slip through the canopy. Tauriel hunched over the water, gazing sadly at her reflection. She was alone now—her one true love was dead, and the other gone for…how long? In search of the one called Strider, he had told her.

The Elf's life had continued, despite her thoughts that surely, it could not. For some unknown reason, Thranduil had granted her permission to return, and restored her as Captain of the Guard. Those under her command were overjoyed to have her back, though Tauriel still felt lost. She had no one now. Yes, she was home, but what was her purpose now? To serve her King, yes, but surely that could not be all. For now, Middle-Earth was at peace, though any who were tuned in to nature could sense how uneasy that peace was. Dark forces were stirring in the deep South, but they did not possess the power to do anything drastic. The Orcs had been driven away or killed, and though the spiders still scuttled through the trees of Mirkwood, the forest was more or less back to normal.

"Fool." Tauriel chided herself for the millionth time. "Forget the Dwarf. He could have never been your pledged."

Despite her knowledge of that, she still felt a deep emptiness, where once had been the hope of showing her people that love should be allowed to be expressed. The Elves did not think of love as something that one practiced by open displays of affection. Instead, it was shown by what lengths one would go to protect the other.

The Silvan Elf shook her head, scattering her thoughts. She needed to think positive. She was home. Back among friends. She should not be worried over one dead Dwarf, and one wandering Elf. She had duties.

In her distractedness, she did not notice the enormous spider creeping along a tree branch above her head. Poison frothed about its jaws, as it prepared to drop down on Tauriel's unsuspecting head.

The Silvan Elf heard a sharp hiss of metal above her, like that of a sword being drawn, and a sharp crack. She looked up, and yelped as a black, eight-legged mass toppled down to land on her head. The Silvan Elf was no fool—she drew her dagger and kicked the thing off her and into the stream, leaping upright to slay the disgusting thing.

Instead, all she saw was the spider's legs curling in its death throes, as it sank beneath the water and was pulled downstream. Totally confused, she stepped forwards to stare past her warped reflection at the thing as it hung on a protruding rock, swaying with the current as though still alive.

"What?" She asked nobody in particular. Then she saw another reflection join hers in the stream. She whirled, and found herself holding a dagger to the throat of—

"My lord!" Tauriel exclaimed in horror. The Elvenking of Mirkwood calmly reached up and took the knife by the blade, pulling it away from his throat.

"Captain Tauriel," He greeted her in return. "I am wondering—is this how you greet all your superiors?"

"N-no, lord," The Elf stammered, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she sheathed her dagger. "A spider attacked me, and you startled me. Apologies, lord."

"Correction," Thranduil told her. "A spider was going to attack you, but I took care of it. You were only startled by its dead body falling upon your head."

Tauriel tried to control the blood flowing to her face as she bowed her head respectfully.

"Again, my apologies. Why are you out without your guards? You could run into more spiders, or a stray Orc, or-"

Thranduil gave her the tiniest lift of one eyebrow. "I was not informed that my mother had been reincarnated as the Captain of the Guard."

It took Tauriel a few moments to understand what he meant.

"O-of course, lord. My apologies."

The Elvenking tilted his head ever so slightly. "It seems that you must include an apology in every sentence that comes out of your mouth. Why?"

The Silvan Elf looked up at him, lost for words. Thranduil answered for her.

"You feel it necessary to lower your status, due to the fact that you were formerly banished." The pale-haired Elf stated. "I banished you because your devotion to that Dwarf was interfering with your loyalty to me. Now that he is dead, and Legolas has gone in search of the Strider, I felt that you would have no more interference. But I see that you still do."

Tauriel's eyes began to burn, as the Elvenking brought up all the things she had been trying not to think about over the past few months.

"You dwell on that Dwarf, as though if you think about him hard enough, he will come back." Thranduil said, his glacier-like eyes fixing on her, though Tauriel could not meet his gaze. "By that logic, I should still have my pledged by my side."

Tauriel jerked her head up in surprise. Thranduil had never mentioned his pledged after her death. He had refused to be consoled, and had simply moved on. Legolas had isolated himself in the mountains for several months, but eventually, he too had moved on without looking back.

"All things pass, Tauriel." Thranduil told her. "Whether it is a world, or a relationship, everything has its time, and everything ends. We may grieve for those lost, but life goes on. Staying fixed on one thing is not good for the soul."

Tauriel blinked hard, unwilling to let her King see her weakness. She couldn't look at Thranduil's face, as he continued.

"If you do not snap yourself out of this depression soon, then I will force you to." The silver-haired Elf said coldly. Tauriel clenched her jaw, her old stubborn streak coming to the surface.

"With all due respect, my Lord," She said, her voice barely above a growl, "You cannot force me to forget Kili or Legolas. They will not—"

The Silvan Elf heard a sharp crack, and her head whipped to the side as pain exploded on her cheek. She realized that Thranduil had slapped her, hard.

"Your grief had made you foolish, Tauriel." Thranduil growled, seizing her shoulders as Tauriel gasped in pain. "I never once ordered you to simply forget those whom you have lost. I do not think Kili or Legolas would be very pleased with the way you are acting right now. You are behaving like a spoiled Human child who has not gotten their way. Men say that life is not fair, and they are right. But that does not mean that it is not worth living. Do you understand me?"

"I—yes, lord." Tauriel managed, a single tear of shock and pain escaping, leaving her cheek cold where it passed. Thranduil's expression softened slightly. He swept the moisture from under her eyes with his thumb, his hand pale against her reddened face.

"If you are not a part of life, it will go on and leave you behind." The Elvenking said softly. "Is that what you want?"

"No! It's not!" Tauriel cried, her emotional control shattering and burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with uncontrolled sobs. Thranduil had learned long ago to conceal outward emotion—his demonstration of grief would not change anything that happened—but for a moment, he allowed his barriers to relax ever so slightly, and drew the emotionally compromised Elf into the warmth of his cloak. He allowed Tauriel to get all her pent-up grief out of her system as the two Elves stood on the serene streambank.

After several minutes, Tauriel managed to somewhat get control of herself. She scrubbed her sleeve across her face, as she pulled away from the Elvenking. Her eyes were still reddened and shining, but she smoothed her rumpled tunic and nodded at Thranduil.

"Thank you, lord." She told him Then she noticed the damp patch on the silver-haired Elf's tunic. "Oh, I got your robe wet! I—"

"It is not important, Captain Tauriel." Thranduil interrupted . He had one eyebrow raised, like he was daring her to apologize. It occurred to her that, occasionally, her King did have a sense of humor—it just didn't show itself often. Tauriel managed a weak smile. Perhaps now she could finally move on.