Thranduil's eyes fluttered open as the dawn crested the horizon, bathing the lands nestled at foothill of the mountainous kingdom in a golden shimmering light, though it did little to chase away the distinct chill of winter.

It's time to get up, he reflected with no amount of disinclination.

Thranduil glanced down at the peacefully sleeping Charlotte, who was currently snuggled close against his side. Her arm was curled over his chest, her palm resting straight over his heart, and Thranduil watched contentedly as soft breaths fluttered from her slightly parted lips. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear, and smiled to himself as Charlotte nuzzled closer, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep.

A feeling of peace washed over him.

But he soon let out a weary sigh, knowing that he was going to have to give up the warmth of his bed, as well as the human who occupied it, and tend to his duties as King. For now, though, he would allow himself but a few quiet moments to enjoy this respite.

But this moment was short lived, and it was with great reluctance that he climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake Charlotte in the process. He paused when she stirred slightly, and he wondered if he had time enough to return back to bed and get lost in her for but a few moments.

Surely the kingdom could wait...

Charlotte's hand reached out blindly and Thranduil grinned broadly as she grabbed his pillow bought it close to her chest, cuddling into like a child would a comfort blanket as they slept.

Thranduil tore himself from the sight, knowing full well that if he did not leave now, he would happily remain in bed all day, seeking all kinds of carnal pleasures from his bond mate.

He paused at the thought, his hand curled around the doorknob of his closet.

His bond mate...

He could sense the sleepy contentment radiating from Charlotte like the pure rays of the sun, and he realized that for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

She had been the missing piece all along.

Thranduil pushed down his impulse to return to her side and entered his closet to get dressed. He selected a silver robe infused with cornflower blue stitching and designs, giving the elvish garment a starlight effect. He pulled on tall, dark leather boots that molded perfectly to his feet and blended in perfectly with his leggings. Lastly, he donned a matching cape that flared around his ankles, the rich material dragging over the floor.

He straightened, his keen eyes scrutinizing the immense closet. All items of clothing were neatly arranged, with each cloak, cape, tunic, and other items of clothing in its allotted place and hanging in an orderly fashion.

Some space was going to need to be made for Charlotte's clothes, once they were tailored.

Thranduil exited the closet and strode towards the vanity. He picked up his hairbrush made of the finest horsehair and ran it through his silken hair until it shone like star fire. Next he picked up his crown of intricately crafted twigs, the ends rising in sharp points and the crown itself infused with leaves of brilliant red.

Placing the mantle that symbolized his title, as well as his burden, upon his head Thranduil gave himself a cursory once over in the mirror, satisfied that outwardly he was the epitome of regality and royalty.

Thranduil paused as he strode past the bed, his gaze lingering on Charlotte with longing.

It wouldn't take much to crawl in alongside her, draw her close and let his hands wander over her soft and warm flesh...

Instead, he bent at the waist and placed a featherlight kiss upon her rosy cheek. Straightening with a great amount of resolve, Thranduil turned on his heel and made his way to the heavy doors and stepped out, quietly closing them behind him.

Galion, his ever-faithful butler, was standing off to the side with a look of uncertainty marring his handsome features.

In all his years of servitude, Galion had never witnessed another maiden sharing the Elvenking's bed, and now the ellon was quite unsure about what protocol to follow. Usually he would assist his King with his morning preparations but given the unusualness of this situation he knew his presence would be greatly unwanted, and had thought it best to wait discreetly outside the doors.

"Walk with me, Galion," Thranduil instructed as he strode down the hall. Galion was soon by his side, matching stride for stride.

"I take it that you know about our new guest?" Thranduil stated, his gaze steadfastly fixed straight ahead.

"News has travelled fast, my King."

This did not surprise Thranduil in the least. Gossip, regardless of which kingdom, was bound happen.

"Charlotte is here to stay. Indefinitely." This was uttered with a sense of finality and Galion, wisely, did not question it. Though, there was something he needed to clarify.

"In...your chambers?" Galion asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

Galion nodded once, and Thranduil stopped, turning abruptly to face the other elf.

"Bring Feren to my study. There is something of importance I need to discuss with the both of you."

Galion gave a bow of his head, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders, but Thranduil was already striding away, his back ramrod straight and his robe flapping around his ankles at his purposeful movements. Galion did not waste another moment and went to find the Captain of the Guard.

Knowing that their King did not like to be kept waiting, it didn't take long for the two to arrive before the heavy oak doors that led to Thranduil's study.

Galion and Feren shared a look before Galion stepped forward and knocked on the solid gleaming wood.

"Enter," came the authoritive command of their King.

Galion entered, followed shortly by Feren, who made sure to close the door firmly behind them.

Thranduil stood at the tall arched window with his hands clasped behind his arrow-straight back, his gaze fixated on the outside lands of his mountainous domain.

He turned in a graceful movement and both Feren and Galion gave a respectful bow of their heads.

"I have a matter of great importance that I need to discuss with the both of you," Thranduil stated, getting straight to the point as he strode towards his grand oak desk that was polished to a high gleam. He paused but remained standing as he turned his penetrative gaze to the two elves standing before him, their features schooled as they listened intently.

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose before continuing. "By now, the both of you know about Charlotte, as well as the fact that she is to remain here in the Woodland Realm."

The two, in question, gave a simple nod.

"I intend to make her my Queen."

Feren startled and opened his mouth, but a swift nudge to the side by Galion's elbow, as well as an imperceptible shake of the head from the butler, told him it would be unwise to question their King's intentions.

Thranduil narrowed his fractionally but continued. "Her situation is unique." He leaned against the desk, folding his arms in front of him. "She comes from a far-off land where customs are...very different from our own. Jarringly different. This is where I need your help, Galion."

"Of course, my King," Galion answered unwaveringly. He was brimming with curiosity, though, about the mysterious appearance of Charlotte. Casting his mind back, he could not recall where Thranduil would have had an opportunity to meet her, let alone court her. But he knew his King acutely, and doubted Thranduil would make a decision lightly, or without careful deliberation and thought.

"I want you to find an someone who will help Charlotte in navigating her day-to-day life within the kingdom. Someone who is patient and understanding, as well as trustworthy. Charlotte will need to learn about our way of life, and she will need a guiding hand."

Galion cast his mind on a certain elleth, and he gave the Elvenking a small, confidant smile. "It shall be done, my King."

She would also need training on how to behave as a Queen, but that could wait for the moment. One step at a time, especially when it came to Charlotte.

"Good. I'll also need you to send the court seamstress to meet with me later on, and ensure space is cleared in my closet for Charlotte's clothing. In the meantime, find an appropriate garment for her to wear until her wardrobe is completed." Thranduil paused, thinking about his next course of action. "And I'll also need you to set up a meeting with my advisors."

That thought alone was enough to bring on a splitting headache. His eyes lingered on the bottle of Dorwinion.

Just a glass...

"I'll get right on it," Galion said with a bow.

Thranduil, satisfied that Galion complete these tasks set before him, now turned to Feren. "Charlotte's safety is of deep concern to me, Feren."

Feren gave a slow nod, his body eerily still. "You would like for me to guard her?"

"No, what I want you to do is something much worse." A mischievous light twinkled in the Elvenking's eyes as he stood tall and proud before the Captain of the Guard.

Feren swallowed, the movement imperceptible, but Thranduil noted it.

"I want you to train her. Teach her to fight and defend herself."

Feren visibly paled. Protecting the love interest of the King was one thing, but training her was pure suicide. If she happened to get hurt during one of their sessions, Feren was certain that his King would reinstate beheading as a punishment. And he would be first in line.

"I have already trained her in the basics, but I will be unable to resume our practice sessions until I have dealt with the aftermath of the battle we have just fought at Dale."

Feren frowned at Thranduil's words. When had he possibly trained her? As far as he knew, Thranduil hadn't left the kingdom for quite some time, and no visitors had entered, albeit the dwarves.

Feren glanced over at Galion, who had an equal look of confusion written on his features.

Thranduil's sharp eyes flickered from one to the other, as though he were reading and assessing their thoughts. The reason he had summoned them before him was because he knew he could trust them irrevocably. Galion was loyal, both in actions as well as keeping certain secrets to himself. Feren, for all the years he had served in the Guard, had shown traits of integrity that Thranduil greatly admired. He knew he could entrust them both with Charlotte's true identity.

Thranduil eyed the two elves before him, weighing up his next course of action.

"Charlotte is not from out world."

Two pair of eyes, both differing degrees of brown, blinked back at him in confusion. Thranduil sighed and rounded his desk, snatching up the bottle of Dorwinion along the way. This was going to take a while to explain.

Charlotte yawned and stretched out in the impossibly large bed, reveling in the feel of the luxurious sheets against her naked body.

She cracked open her eyes and a flash of disappointed lanced through her when she noticed that Thranduil's side of the bed was bare and cold, hinting that he had been gone for quite some time now.

She sat up, leaning back on her elbows as her gaze wandered around the room that oozed of wealth and impeccable taste.

Thranduil's bedroom.

She wondered, with a sense of trepidation, how she was supposed to integrate into this lifestyle? All this lavish grandeur was not who she was.

A soft knock on the door startled her out of her musings and Charlotte glanced wildly around, unsure of what to do?

Was she supposed to say 'Enter', or did she go and open the door herself? What if it was just a cursory knock and whoever was on the other end walked in shortly after.

Charlotte glanced down, panic seizing her when she realized that she was still as naked as the day she was born!

"Just give me a minute!" she cried out.

She scrambled out of the bed, almost falling to the floor in her haste, and frantically searched for the robe Thranduil had given her last night.

Where the hell was it?!

She almost let out a triumphant cry when she at last found it under the bed.

How on Earth...er, Middle Earth, did it get there?

Scrambling to her feet, Charlotte hastily donned the robe, making sure to double knot it around the middle.

Don't want to accidently flash any of the servants. Servants...what an odd thought...

Another knock broke her from her scrambled thoughts and Charlotte hastily smoothed down her unruly hair, inwardly groaning as she knew it was of no use and her hair would remain a stubborn mess.

"Um...come in," she called out nervously, clutching the robe tighter around her.

The door opened and in strode a tall elf (who was she kidding – they were all tall in her eyes) with russet colored hair that cascaded over his shoulders in silky sheets, and the sides tied back in thin braids. He had an open and honest face that radiated warmth and kindness, and his chocolate brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave her a friendly smile. He wore dark leggings paired with knee high tan boots, and a simple burgundy colored tunic interwoven with golden thread.

Another elf followed behind him and Charlotte couldn't help but gawp at the pair. The elleth was willowy in stature; tall and graceful, both in poise and grace. Her chestnut hair flowed in soft waves down her back, the sides pinned back in an intricate braid that Charlotte had no hope of replicating. She had a pleasantly rounded face with a pert little nose that was upturned at the end. Amber eyes stared back at her, framed by impossibly long and dark lashes. The elleth held herself with a certain sense of guardedness, though curiosity shone from her features.

Galion gave a bow, and the elleth curtsied.

Charlotte glanced behind her, puzzling at who they were bowing to? Suddenly she realized that they were bowing to her!

What the fu...?!

"Why are you bowing to me?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched.

They both straightened and it was Galion who answered. "My Lady, you are betrothed to our King. It is only befitting that we show our respect to you."

Betrothed...oh, he meant engaged. Hold up! She and Thranduil weren't engaged? Or were they?

The sudden memory of Thranduil mentioning that, in his eyes, they were already married came to the forefront.

Well shit...

"Um, there's really no need..." How the hell was she supposed to ever get used to others bowing to her as though she were royalty?! Oh...she was considered royalty now, wasn't she?

Galion seemed slightly amused, though, to his credit, he hid it well. The elleth, on the other hand, was staring at Charlotte with a certain amount of shrewdness, almost as though she were sizing Charlotte up.

Galion stepped forward. "My Lady, I am known as Galion, butler to King Thranduil. I would like to introduce you to Maerwen. She has been entrusted to see to all your needs, as well as to show you around the kingdom."

Maerwen inclined her head graciously, and it was only then that Charlotte noted that she had a garment clutched in her hand. Maerwen glided forwards, her midnight blue dress rustling at the movement.

"I think it best that we see you bathed and properly dressed before you eat breakfast, my Lady," she said, her tone no-nonsense and straight to business. Maerwen was clearly diligent in her duties, and Charlotte sensed that this one conformed to the firm-but-fair mold.

"King Thranduil asked me to deliver the message that he is, regretfully, tied up in royal duties, but will join in your chambers for supper tonight, my Lady," Galion stated.

Disappointment coursed through her, but she gave a nod of understanding. Galion gave her a sympathetic look in return before he bowed and exited the room with long strides.

Charlotte was suddenly left alone with Maerwen, the silence stretching out before them like a taut elastic band.

"Shall I prepare a bath for you, my Lady?" the elleth asked, draping the garment over the back of the armchair and turning to look at Charlotte expectantly.

"Um...sure. I mean, yes please," Charlotte replied, eager to escape the elf's penetrating gaze.

Maerwen stood silently, expectantly, almost as though she were waiting for Charlotte to do something.

"What?" Charlotte asked, fidgeting.

Maerwen's finely sculpted features softened, and she spoke patiently as one would to a child when explaining something.

"The bath is continuously fed by a hot spring."

"So?" Charlotte's eyes suddenly bugged out of her head as realization hit her. "You're planning on giving me a bath?!"

"I have been instructed..."

Charlotte shook her head. "Nope! Not happening."

"I suppose I can simply leave you to figure it out on your own..." Maerwen intoned, putting in Charlotte's mind the image of Mrs. Wilson, her strict History teacher from high school whom nobody dared mess with.

Charlotte thought about all the numerous vials awaiting in the bathroom and realized that none were labelled, and she hadn't a clue which ones were shampoo and which ones were soap.

Did they even have shampoo in Middle Earth?

"Can't you just...show me what to use for my hair, and what to use to clean...other bits?" she squeaked.

Maerwen arched a brow. "Other bits?"

Charlotte blushed furiously, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. Suddenly Maerwen was standing in front of her, a cool hand placed on her shoulder, and Charlotte glanced up in surprise at this small act of consolation. She glimpsed understanding and consideration shining from the amber depths of Maerwen's gaze.

"It has been explained to me that where you are from, things are very different. I am here to help you, my Lady, but I can only do so if you let me."

Charlotte sucked in a resigned breath. In the back of her mind, she was sure Thranduil was having a good chuckled at her expense.

"Okay," she agreed. Maerwen gave her a reserved smile and dropped her hand back to her side.

As Charlotte made her way to the bathroom, she paused as a thought hit her. "You're not going to join me in the bathtub, are you?"

Maerwen pressed her lips together; Charlotte guessed it was to stop from laughing.

With a small shake of her head, she replied. "No. Though I have been specifically instructed to tend to your hair."

Charlotte's hand flew up to her hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing."

This was said far too quickly, and Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the elleth. This one, for all her pretense of strict and conformed composure, had a mischievous streak lurking below the surface.

Charlotte made her way to the bathroom, muttering something about 'bloody elves and their 'L'Oréal hair'.

Maerwen walked alongside Charlotte, acting as a sort of protective shield from the curious glances the human was receiving from the other elves as they made their way down long and wide passages. Charlotte's initial assessment of the elleth was proving to be correct: she was firm but fair, aloof yet kind, and was proving to be protective of her charge, albeit in a reserved and quiet manner.

She would divert Charlotte's attention to something of interest when she felt that the enquiring gazes from her kin was becoming too much for the human, and a sharp look from the maid was enough to ward off anyone from approaching. She had been instructed to ease Charlotte into the Woodland Realm's way of life, and that is exactly what she intended to do.

Charlotte was dressed in a crimson red dress and a matching cloak, something she had grumbled to no end about, but had finally relented when Maerwen said there was naught else for her to wear until the seamstress had finished making clothes for her.

Charlotte had surmised that there would be a lot of dresses in her future. She was starting to long for her fuzzy garish pajamas, jeans and sweatpants.

The dress itself was beautifully made and quite comfortable despite the material being thick to ward of the winter chill. Charlotte had just been relieved that there was no corset. Her relief had quickly turned south, though, when Maerwen approached her with a roll of bandages after her bath, stating that she needed to bind her breasts. Charlotte had stated firmly, and under no circumstances, that this was going to happen. Her exact words had been more colorful and crude in nature, but it had had the desired effect and the elleth let her be.

So, instead, Maerwen concentrated on her hair, working oils into the thick waves and combing out the knots. Charlotte had blinked in surprise afterwards at the transformation. Gone was the frizzy mess and in its place was now soft, tamable waves that brushed against her shoulders. This was enough to make her almost forgive the elf for trying to bind her breasts. Almost.

They had now walked quite extensively through numerous hallways, sticking mainly to the less congested part of the palace, and Charlotte knew it was going to take quite a while before she was able to navigate her way around the kingdom on her own. But as overwhelming as it all was, she could not deny the ethereal beauty that surrounded her at every turn and openly gaped in awe.

They had returned briefly to Thranduil's room, where Galion had lunch waiting for her, and afterwards Maerwen had resumed acting as her tour guide. By her calculations, it was now late afternoon, and Charlotte was ready to call it a day and spend the rest of the evening with a certain blonde-haired elf.

"Is there any place in particular you would like to visit?" the elleth asked politely as they descended a lofty and winding stairway.

"Can I go and see Tallagor?" Charlotte asked, realizing with shame that the mighty moose had been briefly forgotten.

"The strange animal in the stables?"

Charlotte grinned. "Yup. That would be him."

"He has made quite the impression with the stable hands, as well as the rest of the kingdom."

"Because he's a moose?" Charlotte asked.

"Is that what kind of animal he is? I have never heard of such a beast." Maerwen's features were alight with marvel.

"Um, they're only found where I'm from," Charlotte answered vaguely.

"I see," was Maerwen's reply. "No, it's his extensive appetite that has impressed us all."

Charlotte's grin widened. "Sounds like Tallagor."

Suddenly she felt a flash of annoyance lance through her, an emotion that was distinctly not hers. She furrowed her brows and concentrated, realizing with a start that what she was sensing was coming from Thranduil through their bond. Something had clearly pissed him off.

"Are you alright, my Lady."

Charlotte blinked, realizing that her hand was clutching at her heart, and she quickly dropped it to her side.

"Yeah, just...adjusting. And can you please stop calling me 'My Lady'."

Maerwen gave a small smile and shook her head. "It would be a great show of disrespect not to call you by your title. I will not dare risk my King's ire at such blatant insolence."

Charlotte could not argue with that. Thranduil's temper was scary to witness, and even more terrifying to be on the receiving end of it. And, if what she had felt through their bond was any indication, somebody was soon going to feel his wrath.

They entered the stables, which were situated at the back of the palace. Large looming trees, their branches and trunks twisted and knotted as they stretched skywards, surrounded the area. The sky was slowly turning a burnt orange hue as the sun started to set.

The stables were impressive, housing horses of the finest pedigree. As they walked past the lines of proud looking beasts, Charlotte thought that Tallagor must stick out like a sore thumb amongst the sleek Equidae.

They rounded a corner and a mighty and happy sounding bellow greeted her. Charlotte grinned widely at the sight of Tallagor's head poking out from over the railing that fenced him in his enclosure. He pawed and pranced about as she neared him, and Charlotte encircled her arms around his thick neck in an affectionate hug. She pulled back, running her hand lovingly over his thick coat, murmuring words of happiness to her beloved companion.

Her gaze wandered over his enclosure and noted that he was being thoroughly pampered. His stall was scrubbed clean and a fresh bedding of hay was strewn on the floor. The water trough was filled to the brim and a barrel of oats stood to the side, already half eaten. Another trough was filled with fresh apples, carrots and greens, some of which had large chunks already bitten out of them. Charlotte glanced at the noticeably bigger belly the moose was now sporting and could quite imagine that Tallagor had taken full advantage of being spoilt in such a manner.

"Keep eating like this, and we'll soon have to roll you out of the stables," she commented, stroking his bulbous nose in affection. Tallagor ignored her statement and nuzzled against her hand, making deep and contented sounds.

"Maybe we can take you for a ride tomorrow. Would you like that?" she cooed.

She startled as a pair of strong arms encircled her, familiar lips ghosting against her neck. Charlotte relaxed into Thranduil's chest, her hands coming up to cover his own.

"Let's go for a ride now," he murmured against her ear, eliciting a shiver from Charlotte.

Charlotte twisted in his arms to gaze up at Thranduil.

"I've missed you," she said as she rested her head against his chest.

"As did I. Part of me has been tempted to order Galadriel to send us back to your world. I had forgotten how taxing politics can be."

Charlotte pulled back enough to look up at him. "Tough day?"

"Bad enough that not even Dorwinion could ease the headache it has caused."

"I felt you through the bond."

"And I felt you," he murmured reverently. His lips brushed against hers and her eyes fluttered closed as she responded to the tender kiss, reveling in the way he pulled her close to him.

Thranduil broke from the kiss first, and he gazed down at her with a soft glow alighting his features.

"You look beautiful, my love."

"I had some help," she replied and glanced around, only to find Maerwen was mysteriously gone.

"Middle Earth suits you." Thranduil brought his hand up, fingering a glossy strand of her hair. "Promise me you shall never cut your hair again."

"I doubt there are any hairdressers here, Thranduil. And even if there were, no one would dare touch my hair lest they face your wrath."

Thranduil grinned impishly, not bothering to deny her accusation.

Charlotte rose on her tippy-toes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Let's go for that ride and find a quiet place where you can tell me what's troubling you."

"I'd much prefer taking you back to our room and forget about my troubles in more pleasurable pursuits."

Tallagor let out a snort of indignation and nudged the Elvenking, none too gently.

Thranduil rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I guess it has been decided then. We shall have to go for that ride."

Charlotte grinned and shook her head. Thranduil, for all his cool façade, really had a soft spot for the moose. And by the way Tallagor was eagerly prancing around, he knew it too.