"Ada............." Thranduil turning around at the sound of his son's voice, to see Legolas holding the arm of the winged woman. The eyes of the elven king not able to believe what he was seeing. His hand reaching up to his left cheek. His fingers brushing over the skin that thanks to his magic, appeared just as flawless, as the rest of him.
When he first saw her, he had been but a young elf, barely mature when he had fought in the War of Wrath; when Morgoth had released his evil creatures and the winged, scaled horde against the elves and their allies. The battle bringing an end to the First Age, and to the rule of the rebel Vala, the first Dark Lord, over Middle-Earth. Thranduil able to remember it, as though it had only happened yesterday. A pain growing in his scared cheek, as he thought back to it.
He had thought that he would die that day. The pain caused by the breath of the dragon, like nothing he had ever felt before. He had believed that the battle had been lost, until the eagles had come to help. The then prince, looking up to see the birds fighting the dragons in the air. Looking up to see a winged woman, flying with the eagles. The birds seeming to be commanded by her.
And then, there she had been, knelt by his side. Her large wings covering him protectively, as her fingers ghosted over his burnt face. Over his now, blind eye. Thranduil forgetting about the pain; forgetting about the feel of the blood, as it had slowly trickled down the side of his face. The prince captivated by what he was seeing, forgetting about the chaos that surrounded the pair. The lady suddenly speaking, her voice sounding sweeter, more perfect than Thranduil was sure that the Music of the Ainur must have sounded, when Eru had created Arda. Her eyes gentle, as she assured him that he would survive. A smile pulling at the corner of his lips, before the world around him, had faded to black.
When he had opened his eyes again, there she had been, standing over his bed in the healer's tent. His father introducing her as (Y/n), queen of the messengers of Manwë. Mother, commander and lady of the eagles. The young prince still believing that he was dreaming, as she took a seat next to him. The tips of her fingers hovering across his burnt cheek, before she had leaned in, and whispered to him of the magic that would help him conceal his disfigurement.
Since then, he had seen her only once again. His father having invited her to his kingdom, in thanks for what she and her children had done. In thanks for helping his son. Thranduil never having forgotten the lady of the eagles; never having forgotten what she had done for him. But in truth, he had never expected to see her again. Less that she would be in the company of Thorin Oakenshield.
"Remove the manacles.........." Thranduil ordered, as he saw the metal restraints that bound her wrists. Legolas looking between his father, and the woman at his side; their eyes locked on one another, as the king slowly moved forward.
"But Ada............"
"DO IT NOW!" Thranduil almost roared, as he turned his eyes to his son. Legolas quickly doing as he was told, and as quickly leaving the room, as his father's next order came. The prince closing the door behind him, leaving the king and queen, alone.
"It has been a long time, Thranduil.........." (Y/n) began, as she slowly moved to stand in front of the statuesque, eleven king. Her voice just as sweet and melodic to his ears, as it had been the first time that he had heard it. His eyes closing, as the queen of the eagles, placed her hand on the scarred cheek that was concealed by the magic that she had taught him.
"You were but a young prince, the last time that I lay eyes on you. Now, now you are king. The king of Mirkwood..........." She continued. Her smile growing, as his eyes stayed closed; the ellon seeming to relish her touch. Her wings wrapping themselves around him, just as they had done when she had come to his side on the battlefield.
It was hopeless to try and not notice the quite exquisite Sindarin elf. He was, to say the least, beautiful. Even when he had been lain, blooded and beaten on the battlefield, half his face burned by the fire of the dragons, it was still impossible to think of him as anything but that. The queen drawn to his fallen form, even as millions of Orcs, the remaining Balrogs of Angband; thousands of wolves and werewolves, along with the dragons and every other conceivable evil creature had fought against her children, the elves, the Edain, Maiar and Valar. There just something about the ellon, that had pulled her from the sky that day. And as much as she had once hoped that she and the prince could have become something more to one another, she had known that the woods were not for her; that she needed the freedom of the skies. She needed to feel the wind through her feathers. (Y/n) never believing that she would see the beauteous ellon again, let alone that she would be in the company of dwarves if she did. The queen suddenly remembering those that were locked in the dungeon, knowing that she had to keep her promise to the wizard. That, though she hated to deceive Thranduil, her duty was to Thorin and the others. And if her feeling that Bilbo had been concealed somewhere, just waiting to aid his friends, was real, then she would have to do her part and distract the elven king as best she could. The queen of the eagles slowly leaning in and pressing a kiss to the King of Mirkwood's lips.