A/N: The picture above is just how I had imagined Hérion to look like :)

Her heart hammered in her chest like a herd of galloping horses as they approached the looming doors that towered over them, tall and imposing. The gleaming wood represented the only physical barrier that stood between her and certain doom.

Okay, maybe she was being a bit melodramatic, but still...

She gulped, dread washing over her at what lay beyond. A sliver of golden light peeked out from under the doors, deceptively warm and inviting. And if she strained her ears Charlotte could detect the soft, dulcet tones of stringed instruments playing, permeating the room beyond with a harmonious ambience. Blending in with the music was the sound of laughter and muffled voices. Lots of voices. Voices belonging to the inhabitants of the Woodland Realm that she was not ready to face just yet.

You have no choice. This is your life now. These are to be your subjects...

Charlotte faltered at this thought. Her subjects?! She could barely keep a houseplant alive! How was she supposed to rule over elves; beings that were infinitely wiser and, not to mention much, much older than herself? Ridiculously older...

"What is going through your mind, little one?"

Startled out of her internal ruminations, Charlotte snapped her attention to Thranduil. He stood beside her looking cool and collected; completely unfazed as though none of this bothered him.

And why should it? Thranduil's probably been doing this for a few thousand years, give or take a couple of centuries. He's a pro by now.

"I just realized how underqualified I am for all of this."

Thranduil shifted to face her, his hold on her hand firm and reassuring. His touch kept her grounded, settling her jumbled thoughts and racing heart. He raised his free hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking idly along the smooth contour of her cheekbone.

"Yes, that you are."

She scowled at his lack of reassurance, but he continued before she could retort.

"Not one of us is ever fully prepared for such a role, Charlotte. Do you think that I excelled when I first became King?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "You're practically perfect in every way. Remember?"

The corners of his perfectly shaped mouth twitched. "Well, I concede that I am now."

"Modesty, Thranduil. Modesty," she said with an accompaniment of an eye-roll.

His grin widened, but then he shook his head. "On the contrary, I made many blunders and mistakes – some of which I paid the price for dearly." He searched her eyes with a dead seriousness that made her still. "I did not, and still don't, expect you to slide into the role of Queen with unhindered ease. All will come with time and practice."

He pressed his forehead against hers, his nose brushing against her own as he whispered. "You are not alone, Charlotte. I will be with you every step of the way."

She breathed in deeply and gave a small nod. Thranduil placed a featherlight upon the tip of her nose and then straightened, shifting back to his place by her side.

"Ready?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the smirk flittering across his features. Then he schooled his features and nodded to the guards stationed at the doors.

It was now time.

She sucked in a deep breath. The guards pushed open the heavy doors, making it look way too easy. If she had attempted it, she would have been heaving and grunting with the effort.

Then the very air in her lungs was stolen away.

They were suddenly ensconced in bright, golden light that flooded forth from the interior of the Great Hall, momentarily blinding her. As she blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to adjust, soft melodious music caressed along every nerve in her body, soothing and lulling in its promise of serenity. She closed her eyes, momentarily losing herself to the song that called to her very essence. Then sounds of conversation and laughter filtered through to her mind, and she slowly opened her eyes.

And openly gaped at the scene before her.

Ash white pillars carved to resemble twisting vines that snaked around massive tree trunks were stationed at intervals along each side of the room, stretching upwards to the domed ceiling and forming grandeur arches overhead. Numerous brightly lit lanterns hung from the ceiling, bathing the interior with their radiant light and seeming to Charlotte like a multitude of floating will-o-wisps.

The Great Hall stretched out as far as the eye could see, the largest room she had ever laid witness to. Charlotte was sure that not even the grand ballrooms in the palaces she had read about could compare to the sheer magnificence of the Great Hall. And at this very moment it was bustling with elves numbering well into the hundreds.

Yet their vast numbers did not make the area feel crowded or claustrophobic. There were even double rows of rustic wooden benches positioned on each side of the room, stretching from one wall to the other, yet there was still room for more.

Each table was laden with a feast that she had only ever dreamt about. There were platters of fruits, bread rolls, and trays of meat roasted to perfection and dribbled with a dark wine sauce. Baby potatoes baked to a golden hue, sweet carrots and scrumptious greens sprinkled with herbs and tossed in butter had their place on the tables. The combined aromas of all that food was tantalizing mouth-watering.

Charlotte noted with amusement that countless bottles of wine had been placed at regular intervals on the tables.

What was a feast hosted by the Elvenking without wine?

Her attention was drawn to the elves of the Woodland Realm, all of whom were impeccably dressed in garments of exquisite design, each one a picture of Renaissance beauty.

Conversation gradually halted as each member in the room turned to face their King. Then as one, they parted to form an aisle for Thranduil and Charlotte to walk down.

Charlotte's grip on Thranduil's hand tightened and she had to fight the urge to turn on her heel and make a run for it.

This is it...

She glanced up nervously at Thranduil and he gave her an encouraging smile before turning his attention forward. And then with a gentle tug on her hand, he guided her through the passage of elves, each inclining their head as they passed. Charlotte couldn't help but marvel at the reverence and respect they held for their King.

They progressed further along, and Charlotte happened to glance to the side. A fair-haired elleth wearing a dress the color of deep plum raised her head and locked eyes with her. Charlotte frowned at the open hostility showing plainly in the other female's features.

And in the blink of an eye, the moment was over as they passed by. Charlotte glanced up at Thranduil, who had his sights set resolutely ahead. It seemed that he had not noticed this brief exchange of animosity coming from the elleth. But Charlotte had seen it and she could feel the fair-haired elf's eyes staring daggers at her back as they made their way to the dais, where a large table was placed and where they were meant to eat. Two high back chairs, that resembled thrones more than anything else, were upholstered with red velvet cushioning and took the center stage.

Thranduil led her to her chair and helped her into her seat before taking his place beside her.

This was a silent signal for all, and the room immediately became a well-choreographed bustle of movement as the elves made their way to their seats, conversation and merriment now resuming as before.

Thranduil poured her a glass of wine and then topped up his own, the crimson liquid smoky and staining the inside of the crystal glass.

Charlotte took a sip of the sharp, tangy wine, noting immediately that it was extremely potent. She was going to have to exercise caution with this. Two glasses would have her comatose!

"Is it always like this?" she asked, placing her glass down carefully on the crisp white tablecloth that was draped over the table.

Thranduil arched a brow in silent query.

"I mean,' she elaborated, "is it always so formal at dinner time?"

"By formal, you mean..."

"The bowing," she clarified.

"I am their King," he stated simply, as though he could not see how foreign the whole concept was to her.

But how different is it really back in my own world? Kings, Queens, sultans, tsars of old...each commanded a certain form of the bending the knee, so to speak.

Her attention was diverted to the feast spread out on the table, identical to the dishes she had spied upon her entrance, but before she could reach out and dish some up on her plate, Hérion's sharp reprimand in the back of her mind sounded loud and clear.

She snatched her hand back and racked her brain.

What was it she was supposed to do first?

A few official looking elves, both male and female, descended upon their table and seated themselves with the elegance of their kind. Charlotte glanced over and noted that the chair next to Thranduil was empty.

That must be where Legolas usually sits...

Movement at her side caught her attention and she turned her head, only to find that it was Hérion himself who was to be seated next to her.

"My Lady," he greeted, as he flicked out his napkin and smoothed it over his lap.

Oh right! Napkin first.

"Hello, Hérion," she greeted back as she smoothed out her own napkin over her lap.

She glanced up to see him watching her movements with an eagle eye. He then gave a curt nod, showing that thus far she was doing alright.

"So, was it by any chance an unlucky draw that you happened to be seated next to me?" she enquired.

Hérion reached over and picked up a bottle, filling his glass to the brim with the intoxicating liquid. Then turning his attention to her, he replied, "No, I requested to be seated next to you."

Charlotte blinked in surprise. "Why?" she blurted out.

Hérion arched a disapproving brow.

"I mean," she hastily corrected, "May I enquire as to why you chose to do so?"

God, that made her sound way too pompous. She was starting to talk like one of those uppity and stuffy old British ladies as they gossiped away while sipping delicately at their tea that had been served in a fine, floral china cup.

"Your actions tonight will reflect upon me. I am merely protecting my investment."

"In other words, you plan to stop me from messing up so I don't embarrass you."

"Precisely!" he remarked, flashing her a cheeky grin.

Hérion was not an elf who smiled often, so to see one on his features had a rather unsettling effect. No doubt it added a youthful and handsome quality to his features, but Charlotte had come to associate him as stern and unyielding. Certainly not playful.

"Now, Hérion. We are here to have a good time," Thranduil chimed in as he filled his plate, shooting the royal advisor a pointed look. "Put aside all political trivialities and try and enjoy yourself."

"Of course, my King," Hérion replied smoothly with an inclination of his head.

Charlotte turned her attention towards the food spread out before her and proceeded to serve up a plate for herself. Ready to dig into her meal she glanced down and faltered. Instead of the countless knives and forks that she had grown accustomed to during her lessons with Hérion, there was only one knife, fork and spoon to be seen. She cast her eyes sideways at Thranduil's plate, noting that it was similarly set.

She turned her head to question Hérion but stopped when she saw that he was openly smirking at her.

The ass had known all along that fine dining etiquette was not needed tonight, and yet he had still insisted on tutoring her as such. This was a power play if ever she had seen one. She was going to have to think of a way to get back at him.

Picking up her glass she toasted him in a silent salute. "Well played, Hérion."

His eyes twinkled merrily, softening his usually stern features, and Charlotte was floored by this rare moment of unguardedness. In his own way, Hérion was opening up to her.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall had now become relaxed as all enjoyed their meal, and Charlotte suspected that the free-flowing wine was also responsible for this. As she looked around her, she was starting to glimpse a different side to the elves of Greenwood. They weren't the hoity-toity lot she had first thought and had a lot of positive attributes to offer. Underneath it all, she was starting to see that they enjoyed having a good time the same as anybody else, and she was curious as to what really went down when they let their hair down and threw caution to the wind. Part of her suspected that it would be an occasion never to forget.

Conversation flowed freely, with Thranduil entrancing her with tales of old as they ate, and Charlotte found that she was starting to enjoy herself. Her fears had been unfounded. There had been a few glances thrown her way, but they were all that of curiosity and intrigue. She had to surmise that they knew of her by now, if their lack of surprise and guardedness was anything to go by.

Aranhil was right. Thranduil had played his cards well.

Dishes were soon cleared away and dessert was served. Charlotte grinned wryly as her all-time favorite honey berry tarts made their appearance upon the tables.

Charlotte was about to reach out for one when an elleth, the same one who had served her tea earlier on, came to stand before them with a covered platter balanced in her hand.

"My King. My Lady," she greeted sweetly as she bowed her head. Straightening, she continued, "Aranhil sends this with his best regards."

Thranduil gave a nod of assent and the elleth placed the tray upon the table before gliding away with graceful steps.

"Ooh, I wonder what surprise Aranhil has in store," Charlotte enthused.

Thranduil gave her a fond smile and extended a long-fingered hand. "By all means, do find out."

Charlotte didn't have to be told twice. She shot Thranduil an impish grin and lifted the cover. She had half-expected to find pizza, but this...this was even better.

Chocolate, shaped into perfect balls, had been stacked into a pyramid, and she had to attest that the poise and grace of elves had prevented it from toppling over.

Placing the lid down with care, she reached over and plucked the chocolate ball at the very top.

"He did it," she whispered, her tone that of reverence and wonder. Turning her attention to Thranduil, who seemed curious as to what she held in her hand, Charlotte exclaimed, "Aranhil figured out how to make chocolate!" It took every ounce of restrain not to squeal in delight.

She bit into the smooth, creamy delicacy, practically moaning with pleasure. She pointedly ignored Hérion, whom she was sure was giving her a look of disapproval at her lack of decorum.

"Oh, you have to try this, Thranduil," she stated, offering him the half-eaten chocolate held between her thumb and forefinger.

Thranduil eyed the treat and then slowly lifted his gaze to her, and she was suddenly flooded with a sense of déjà vu.

Uh-oh. This was going to be a repeat of the peanut butter episode.

Before she could react, he leaned over and closed his lips around her fingers. A furious blush instantly heated her cheeks as she felt his tongue swirl seductively around her fingers, sucking off the chocolate. Then Thranduil straightened up, a gleam in his eyes and a devilish smirk on his face. It had all happened so fast.

"Delicious."

A croak escaped her lips as she sat there frozen. She was certain he had made a major faux pass with that whole episode. And in front of everyone, no less! She didn't dare tear her gaze away, unwilling to witness the scandalized looks that must be written on every face in this room.

"Breathe, Charlotte," he said smoothly before plucking up his glass and taking a sip of wine, his amusement quite obvious.

Charlotte snapped out of her stupor and hastily glanced around, but was stunned that barely anyone was paying them any attention.

But then she saw her. The same elleth who had glared at her when she had walked towards the dais with Thranduil. She was staring at Charlotte again with the same animosity brewing in those jewel-green eyes. Then she looked away, her face now a joyous mask as she conversed with another elleth seated opposite her.

Charlotte frowned. Who was she?

She glanced at Hérion who, too, was watching the other female, his brows slightly drawn together. She opened her mouth to enquire about her, but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

Later, he seemed to convey to her.

Dessert now over, the atmosphere shifted, becoming charged with a subtle energy.

"What's happening?" she asked Thranduil.

"Now the party begins," he said cryptically, his eyes flashing with anticipation.

And indeed, it was. The space between the dais and the tables was immense, large enough to be used as a dance floor, and as the stringed music became livelier and more upbeat, the elves started converging there in pairs.

Charlotte watched entranced as they swayed and moved with elegance that would make a ballerina weep. But this wasn't a formal dance, by no means. Each were moving to their own rhythm, becoming lost in the music as they gave themselves over to it. The more she watched the more she could not tear her eyes away. They were truly enjoying themselves, laughing and giggling as they twirled around, their eyes ablaze with joy and their features radiating nothing but that of pure happiness.

She found herself grinning at the sight and her feet started jiggling to the music.

"Would you care to dance?"

Charlotte startled and glanced up at Thranduil, who was standing and had his hand extended in invitation towards her.

Charlotte gulped. She had witnessed firsthand Thranduil's idea of dancing and she did not want that to be on public display.

"Only if you behave," she warned, rising and taking his proffered hand.

"Always," he assured, but his tone belied that he was not being entirely truthful on that front.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely gave her a far too innocent smile as he led her to the dance floor.

They made their way through the crowd and found a suitable spot. Thranduil turned to face her and Charlotte felt her nerves return tenfold. But as she hastily glanced around, she noted that once again no one was paying them any attention.

"It's like we're invisible," she remarked as they started swaying to the music.

Thranduil drew her close, their bodies molding and conforming together as one as they danced.

"Invisible, no. Accepted, yes."

Charlotte mulled over his words. Had it been that easy to become accepted into their fold. Surely not.

"You seem surprised."

"I...am."

Thranduil bent his head, his lips brushing against her ear. "I think your friendship with Aranhil may have played a big part with regards to that. I am fairly certain that he has been vouching for you and putting in a good word."

"I doubt he has that much clout in the kingdom."

"He is well liked and extremely popular. You chose well in making a friend of him."

Charlotte wanted to believe that Thranduil was right, and that maybe Aranhil had played a big part in her ultimate acceptance. But something told her that he was not entirely responsible for all of it.

Her sights drifted to Hérion, who was still seated at the table, and he raised his glass to her, a small smile gracing his features as he toasted her.

And there lay her answer, as unlikely as it seemed. Hérion, being well up there in status, would have been able to sway the public opinion of her.

She glanced back up at Thranduil, who had a knowing look on his face.

This was your plan all along, you sneaky bugger.

For the first time today relief and contentment washed over her in reassuring waves, and she rested her head against his chest as they swayed to the music, a smile forming on her lips.

She had found love, friendship and acceptance in the unlikeliest of places. She had found her place in life.

"May I have the next dance?" the smooth voice belonging to Hérion enquired.

Thranduil paused, giving Charlotte a questioning look. They had been dancing for well over an hour and she had been ready to call it quits. But this would give her the opportunity to talk to Hérion alone. She wanted some answers.

She nodded in assent and Thranduil graciously stepped aside.

"Of course, Hérion. I am feeling rather gracious tonight."

"For that I am grateful, my King," Hérion stated.

Thranduil nodded and then placed a kiss upon the back of Charlotte's hand before handing her over to the other elf.

"I trust she is in safe hands?" Thranduil asked.

"Of course, my King." To his credit, Hérion was rather debonair with his response.

Thranduil nodded, satisfied, and strolled away.

"How are you faring, Lady Charlotte," Hérion enquired conversationally as they slowly, albeit a bit stiffly, started dancing to the music.

"I think my outlook has changed with regards to elves."

Hérion nodded. "Many outlooks were changed tonight." There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words.

Charlotte gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Hérion."

He remained impassive, though the tips of his pointed ears did turn pink. Had her gratitude made him uncomfortable?

"You handled yourself very well tonight."

"Is that actually a compliment, Hérion?" she teased.

"Should anyone ask, I will vehemently deny it," he teased right back, causing her to laugh out loud.

A few moments of silence stretched between them.

"Nice play on the whole fine dining stuff, by the way," she remarked, completely forgetting to talk formally.

Hérion, for his part, did not seem to mind and was far more at ease than she had ever seen him. "I am old. I need some source of amusement from time to time, regardless of how petty it may seem."

"And you happened to find the perfect victim to play your tricks on."

"That I have. Though I wager that you, too, are brewing a few pranks of your own."

"Count on it," she stated, flashing him a grin.

He chuckled at that, but then Charlotte grew serious.

"Who was that elleth, Hérion?"

She did not need to clarify, for he knew of whom she was referring to. His features grew grim as he replied, "That would be Calenmiriel."

She frowned, the name having absolutely no bearing on her.

"Calemir's sister."

Charlotte's heart plummeted.

This was not good. Not good at all.

"I see you are watching Charlotte with a sharp eye, Calenmiriel."

The elleth turned from her position by the pillar, which was far off to the side and as far away from the crowd as she could get. She remained silent and unmoving as Thranduil approached her, her green eyes hard like the jewel they resembled. Eyes that were jarringly similar to her sister's, though the pupils of Calenmiriel's eyes were ringed with orange.

Thranduil turned his attention to the spot where she had been staring a moment ago, his eyes finding Charlotte and Hérion dancing together in the distance. It was plainly obvious that Calenmiriel had been observing them. Or, more accurately, Charlotte.

A few silent moments passed before Thranduil turned his attention once more to Calenmiriel. "Do not think that I missed the looks of animosity you threw her way. I thought you were better than that," he chided.

"And I thought better of you, Thranduil," Calenmiriel retorted, her eyes locked ahead. She then let out a sigh and turned to face him. "What were you thinking, Thranduil? Look at her. She is but a babe."

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her words. "Charlotte is far from a child, Calenmiriel. She is very much an adult amongst her kind, and I view her as such."

"Maybe, but there is no denying that she is innocent."

Thranduil frowned at her. Where was she going with this?

"How long will it be before she suffers the same fate as Calemir?"

Thranduil features morphed into that of stone, cold and unyielding, but she seemed unperturbed by his ire.

"Calemir loved you dearly. Did you know that?" she pressed. "It all but broke her heart that you would not bond with her, even after she bore you a son." There was no denying the accusation in her voice.

Thranduil remained stoic in his stance as he stared down his nose at her.

"And you cast her aside as though she meant nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"You forget your place," he ground out, not liking where this conversation was going.

Calenmiriel stubbornly shook her head. "No, it is you who have forgotten the transgressions of your past."

"I loved Calemir. I loved her as best as I could. You know this, Calenmiriel. But it was pale in comparison to what I feel for Charlotte."

Calenmiriel flinched as though he had physically struck her. "How can you say that?"

Thranduil let out a deep breath. "I simply speak the truth."

She narrowed her eyes, peering at him with such scrutiny that it made him feel uncomfortable. What she saw did not make her happy.

"The rumors are true then: you have changed."

Thranduil didn't deign to respond, and merely glared back her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, her golden tresses rustling with the movement. "So that's it then? You choose to replace your wife and her memory with this human?"

"Charlotte is not replacing Calemir," Thranduil stated with as much tact as he could, but Calenmiriel was sorely testing his patience. "She is her own person and is forging her own position within this kingdom."

"Then she shall be your downfall."

"Was that a threat?" he growled.

"Of course not," she replied smoothly, though her eyes flashed with heated fury.

"You had best tread carefully, Calenmiriel. I may have changed, but my intolerance for insubordination has not."

"Duly noted." She glanced over her shoulder at Charlotte once more, her nails digging into the flesh of her bare arms. She seemed lost in thought, but then abruptly turned her attention back to Thranduil.

"You are poison, Thranduil," she hissed. "Everything you touch withers and dies, becoming a former husk of themselves."

"You cannot blame me for your sister's death," Thranduil said, pain obvious in both his voice and his features.

Tears sprang unbidden to Calenmiriel's eyes and she hastily glanced away. "But I do," she whispered. Then her voice hardened as she continued "You could have done more. You should have done so much more, Thranduil."

She pushed away from the pillar and stalked away, her words cutting like a heated blade through his very being. For Thranduil did blame himself for Calemir's death. He blamed himself each and every day and would carry this burden of guilt always.

Thranduil ran a hand over his face.

How much trouble are you going to cause, Calenmiriel? he thought to himself. He was going to have to keep a careful eye on her from now on.