The days blurred into weeks in the Woodland Realm, day after day spent under the never-ending canopy of leaves shadowing the sun as the temperature slowly continued to drop with the approach of winter, sending leaves of red and gold fluttering down to the forest floor. Each day was the same for me. Breakfast, archery with the Prince, a quick bite of lunch, and then sword-training with him. After dinner was when I'd wash up from an exhausting day under the trees and then wander around the palace, usually ending up in the healers wing and library, and occasionally running into Nëniel or Tauriel. My archery lesson this morning was tedious, the sun unusually warm for a autumn day, making the forest air stifling.
I drag a hand down my face as I stalk through the dim halls of the palace, making my way to the kitchens for a snack. Despite the cool air inside, sweat makes its way down my back under my loose tunic, already dreading the next few hours I would spend sword fighting with the Prince.
I grumble to myself. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy the sword fighting. That was my natural element, something I have been doing since I was young. I just wasn't used to training with someone who wasn't my brothers or mother. And especially not with the Prince. There was something unnerving about constantly training with him. We could never find a comfortable balance during our time together. One moment we were fine, shooting our usual banter and sarcastic remarks back and forth, and then our of nowhere, something in the air would shift and suddenly I can't even force myself to meet his gaze or even think of him lest I completely confuse myself. His lingering gaze, the incidental brushes of his fingers along my knuckles... I don't know what it all means. And it's that not-knowing, the feeling of being utterly confused, that is the most unnerving.
And the endless confusion does nothing to lesson the dread that grows within in me with every passing day. Two weeks have already passed without a word from either of my brothers or my father. I expected Arwen to continue writing to me, even if it was only about trivial, silly little things sisters usually shared with one another, but even she had gone silent.
And the mystery of my mothers survival continues to hang over my head. So tantalizingly close, yet just beyond my grasp.
If only Elrohir and Elladan took me with them. Then maybe I wouldn't be alone here, forced to suffer in confusion and ignorance and-
"Celé?"
A bright, female voice jolts me out of the thoughts clouding my mind. I turn to see Nëniel striding toward me, her guards armor clicking softly with every step, Tauriel following at her heels.
"Are you all right?" Her dark brows are furrowed as she nears me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Fine," I lie, slipping a convincing smile onto my face. I give Tauriel a polite nod, the guard returning my greeting with a thin-lipped smile.
Nëniel's eyes narrow as she studies me but after a moment, she relents, giving me a little smile.
"You're looking lost again, need a guide?" she jokes lightheartedly, a mischievous grin on her face.
There's no way she bought me lie and I know she will confront me about it later but for now, I just return her smile.
"Very funny, Nën," I drawl with a smirk, "but I know where the kitchens are."
"Well, we're going for lunch now. Want to come?"
I shake my head. "It's alright. I'm just getting a quick bite."
Nëniel's brows narrow again, promise of weaning out the truth from me later flickering behind her eyes, but she just nods and giving a curt farewell, disappears down the hall with her sister.
I continue at my steady pace through the halls, letting my thoughts consume me once more as I make my way to the kitchens alone.
~~~
"Watch your back," I command, tapping the blunt of my blade to the Prince's back as he, once again, let's down his guard as we duel.
He spins to correct his stance, sword raised to parry my attack but finds my blade already at his throat. He sighs, raising his arms in surrender. I give him a playful smile, lowering my blade and stepping back.
"Your defense needs work," I say, grabbing a canteen of water from where it sits at the sidelines. Smirking, I add, "A lot of it."
His grumble warrants a chuckle from me as I toss him the canteen.
These past few weeks of training have been quite fruitless, both on his and my account. My archery has improved as much as his swordplay has, which is to say, not at all. Not that the Prince is a bad swordsman. In fact, he can be quite impressive at times. But he could be better and it seems that training with me is not improving his skills at all. Though I couldn't help but blame myself for that. Absentmindedness did not make for a great teacher. With my brothers gone, all I can think of is whether they had found mother or not. And if not... I shudder, casting that dark thought out of my mind before it can take root there and torment me for the rest of the day. I wouldn't think of that now.
I watch as the Prince downs the water and then tosses the empty canteen to the ground a moment later, raising his sword again.
"Alright," he says, flipping the blade in his hand. "Again."
I chuckle and toss my sword to the ground, sitting down on the grassy floor and folding my legs beneath me.
"Easy there, Princeling," I tease with a grin, gesturing to the grassy ground beside me. "Take a break."
He raises his brows but then relents, sticking his blade in the dirt and then dropping down to the ground beside me.
I study the intricately woven armor paneling his chest, each breath causing it to rise and fall, the metal clicking as he leans back, bracing his arms on the grass behind him.
I find the sudden urge to shift closer to him, to brush my hand against that armor and feel the thundering heartbeat beneath it-
I jolt my head, blinking away the images in my mind.
What the Valar was that?
He must sense my sudden shift in mood because he turns to me, a quizzical look on his face as humor dances in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he teases, a smile playing on his lips. "You look like you're about to pass out."
I roll my eyes at him.
"I'm fine," I say, tucking the blonde hairs that have fallen free of my braid behind my ears.
I stuff my annoyance and confusion deep inside me before they can grab a hold of me again, and instead summon a bit of my usual bravado to the surface.
"Besides," I drawl with a sly smirk, "you should be worrying about yourself, not me. I was beating the immortality out of you in that ring."
I wait for him to fire a smooth retort back at me, but instead of a biting insult, my teasing words are met by laughter.
I turn in surprise to see the Prince laughing, not just chuckling like he usually does but actually laughing, his face split into a wide smile.
Oh, Valar.
That smile.
That damned smile sends my heart into a fluttering dance, all the emotion from before bubbling back up to the surface.
His laughter dies down and meeting my eyes, he gives me a wink.
"I'll give you that one," he says, that damning smile still lighting his face.
And as his clear eyes stare into my own, that smile sending my heart flipping, I almost find myself smiling back.
I jump to my feet as I feel heat begin to tingle my cheek, turning from him to pick up my sword, hoping he doesn't notice the pink flush now coloring my cheeks.
"Celebríel?" I hear him question from behind me, a surprising gentleness in his voice.
"Alright, break time's over," I command, my voice devoid of the lightness it carried moments before as I will my heart and face to calm, and then turn to face him. "Up on your feet."
I see mild confusion flicker behind his blue eyes but it quickly fades and he rises, grabbing his blade and stepping back into the training ring.
I follow, my long braid swinging behind me as I plant my feet in the dirt and angle my sword.
"Your lower-left flank needs the most work," I call out, motioning to his left side with a jut of my chin. "So we'll start there. I'll attack, you do your best to defend."
He nods, but I don't miss the lingering glance he gives me, confusion still lurking behind his eyes. I ignore it, leaping forward with my sword raised as I execute my attack on his left side. He catches my blade with his own, throwing me back and giving himself time to adjust before I'm upon him again, this time aiming for his leg. He dances out of my reach, twisting to meet my sword as it comes down again, positioned for the neck.
I give him an impressed raise of my brows as he pushes me back again, a daunting grin on his face.
I move to attack again but he attacks before I can raise my sword, swiftly shifting my position from offence to defense and catching me off-guard. I parry his blade, dancing out of his reach, a smile beginning to grow on my face as he strikes blow after blow, keeping me on my toes. I cross my blade over my face, his own ringing against it as they meet, and catch his eye, its pure blue iris glowing in the afternoon sunlight.
"That more like it!" I shout with a grin, my muscles straining to keep his sword a healthy distance away from my face. "Your offence has improved and I hate to say it but, I'm impressed."
He gives me a smirk. "I knew I'd win you over eventually."
Before I can respond, I feel my sword slip and the next thing I know, its flying out of my grasp and clattering onto the dusty floor. Shock flashes in my mind for a second before a stout kick to the backs of my knees sends me tumbling to the ground.
I hit the dirt on my back, reeling in my grunt of pain as I blink confusion from my eyes and glance up at the Prince now standing above me, his sword at my throat.
"Checkmate," he muses with a grin, throwing my words from our first duel back into my face.
That grin melts my shock and I find myself smirking up at him, something stirring inside my chest.
"Don't get too comfortable up there," I purr sweetly, mischief dancing in my eyes.
Before he can say another word, I twist the sword out of his grasp and grabbing his wrist, tug him down to the ground with me. He nearly lands on top of me, breaking his fall by planting his hands on either side of my head, his face mere inches from my own. I find myself laughing at the bewilderment on his face, my wrist pinned underneath his grip as he hovers above me, his breath lightly tickling my cheek. The shock quickly fades from his eyes as his lips tug into another heart-fluttering smile.
And just to play the last trick up my sleeve, I hook my leg around his middle and with a sudden twist, flip him onto his back, landing myself on top of him. He barks his surprise as his back hits the ground but before I can reach for the knife hidden in my boot and position it at his throat and win the match, I find my wrists locked in an iron grip and held firmly against the ground.
I whip my face to the Prince who now clutches my wrists, his blue eyes twinkling. I try to tug myself free of his hold but grip is as solid as rock. He chuckles at me attempts and eventually I just give up and glare at him.
There's a roguish grin on his face as he says, "Shall we leave it at a stalemate?"
"You're a royal pain, Princeling," I mutter, trying and failing to hide the smile now tugging at the corners of my lips.
He only gives me a humorous wink, releasing my wrists to let me stand up and then hoist him to his feet.
I pull him up, his hand lingering in mine as he halts in front of me, so breathtakingly close, his touch warm as those archers fingers lightly brush over my knuckles.
I swallow my sharp intake of breath and slowly lift my eyes to him, only to find his blue-eyed gaze already on me, shining softly with gently light.
That gaze threatens to undo me completely.
My chest tightens until it feels as if it will burst, my heart inconsistently beating against it, so loud I wonder if he can hear it.
My hand is still in his as he takes a tentative step closer-
I can't do this.
Panic shoots through my body and I quickly snatch my hand out of his hold.
Pain- actual pain- flickers in his eyes before I turn from him, mind and heart reeling.
"We're done training for today." I force my voice to come out steady, and even a bit cold, as I begin walking back toward the palace, gritting my teeth against the countless voices in my head, tugging me every which way.
But one voice cuts through them all.
"Why do you always do that?" The Prince's voice is sharp. Annoyed and... though he may try to hide it, I catch a hint of hurt in it as well.
I whirl around to face him, a spark of white-hot temper flashing through my veins. "Do what?"
His eyes are narrowed as he stalks up to me. "Every time I finally think I might be getting through to you, you suddenly shut down and pull away." Those blue eyes flash. "Why?"
His commanding tone adds fuel to the growing fire within me, my lips pulling back from my teeth as I growl, "Have you considered that perhaps I grow tired of you? You're not as likable as you might think, Princeling."
The malice in my voice surprises even me and I mentally cringe as hurt flashes in his eyes at my biting words.
Didn't mean that, I didn't mean that.
I twist away before I can say something else that will hurt either him or myself. Confusion now laces with my anger as I try to puzzle out whether my outburst is truly directed toward him or if I'm just angry with my own irrational heart.
A hand catches my wrist before I can storm off, twisting me around and into the firm grip of the Prince. His hands grasp my shoulders, forcing me to face him as his eyes search my own.
"That's a lie and both you and I know it." His breath is hot on my face, a dangerous spark in his eyes. "You're avoiding me. And lying to yourself about why."
That fierce anger slowly melts from his gaze, replaced by a tender gentleness in his eyes as his hand rises to my face, brushing away a stray strand of hair. I feel my breath hitch at his soft touch as I lose myself in his quiet gaze.
"Celebríel," he whispers, a certain intimacy in his voice as he gently lifts my chin. "What are you so afraid of?"
My anger steadily crumbles under his loving touch, a mask slipping to reveal a turmoil of confusion and exhaustion beneath it. My head spins as I spiral though the anger and longing and countless other emotions raging within me, tearing me between two paths I do not know how to choose between.
I grit my teeth against it all, the pounding in my head overwhelming-
And then stop in the middle, all my emotions clearing away until it's just... him. Standing before me. Asking me to choose.
"I don't know what is happening," I whisper, my eyes wide.
"I- " I drop my gaze. "I can't do this."
"Celé- " he starts, but I cut him off.
"I'm sorry." His tender gaze tugs at my heart but I pull myself out of his embrace. "I don't- I don't know who you're asking me to be."
I begin to walk away but his voice calls back to me, halting my steps.
"A friend."
His tone is calm in the silence of the forest around us, and I feel a persistent tug on my heart pulling me back toward the Elven Prince.
I find myself slowly twisting to face him.
There's a faint hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he repeats softly, "Can you be a friend?"
And it's that small glint of hope in his eyes that prompts me to pause, convincing me not to flee from him, or from my own heart.
As I hold his gaze I feel the fear, the doubt, the panic slowly melting away inside my chest, loosening their crushing grip on my heart. So I swallow my uncertainty, my denial, and for the first time since coming to this realm, I let my heart guide me.
A small spark flares in my chest as he gazes at me, that hopeful glimmer in his eyes calling me back to him, and something inside me ignites, and gets set ablaze.
And as I gaze at the Prince in front of me, that faint hope in his eyes fueling the courage within me, I finally let my heart take a leap.
"Yes," I whisper, a small but genuine smile spreading on my face. "I can do that."