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The King's Rose

Fic summary: She came to kill the Elvenking. Instead, she found herself trapped between vengeance, forbidden desire, and the ghosts of a war that never truly ended. Set in a darker interpretation of Middle-earth with original characters, canon characters, headcanons, and multi-universal lore influences.

Chapter 1

Chapter summary: Aster Rose secretly visits her parents’ graves beyond Dorwinion’s borders before returning to a cruel household where humiliation and punishment await her. Tormented by her family and haunted by memories of the Elvenking who destroyed her world, Aster falls asleep clutching the only thing left of her father—only to dream of Thranduil, where he offers her a chilling warning, or is it a lost memory?

Warnings: Emotional abuse, toxic family dynamics, grief, trauma, starvation, nightmare imagery, mentions of suicide, prejudice/species discrimination, dark fantasy themes

The December snow fell softly that morning, casting a pale, soothing light over a world still recovering from Sauron's darkness. Yet the healing was slow. The enemy's evil lingered—felt in the soil, tasted in the water, carried faintly on the air. Nowhere was this more evident than in the woodland realm of Mirkwood, where the shadow had once taken root and spread deep into the earth itself.

To some, it was proof that darkness never truly dies. Sauron's reign had been the most catastrophic scourge since the First Age of Morgoth, but it would not be the last of corruption and wickedness. Other black souls endured, lesser in power, yet no less bent toward malice. King Thranduil had long warned as much from within his guarded halls: "Such is the nature of evil. Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads—a shadow that grows in the dark."

The snow had fallen in a slow, steady hush during the sleeping hours in the land of vineyards. The world beyond lay distant, muted beneath winter's weight.

Just south of the Dorwinion borders, where the land dipped into stillness, a single pine stood alone, and Aster Rose knelt before two graves. Snow clung to her worn clothing. Her golden hair in a long braid, hung unkempt, dulled by travel and hardship, and soot stained her pale cheeks.

Above her, perched high in the branches, a guardian eagle owl given the name Athena, kept silent watch, her unblinking, golden gaze fixed on the world below.

The snow was brushed away with careful hands, each motion deliberate, almost ritual. The stones emerged, identical and unmarked. There was nothing upon them for the world to remember. But she remembered.

Her breath came soft in the cold air, steady and pale. Her frozen fingers lingered against the stone a moment longer than needed, as if to be certain it remained… as if it might vanish when she let go.

Aster placed a small wreath between the graves, centering it with delicate precision. It was handcrafted, vines twisted tight and unbroken, woven with care. Not wild growth, but taken from the sacred vineyards of Dorwinion. Guarded. Protected. Never meant for hands like hers, and yet, she had brought them there to proudly display.

Her youthful, blue eyes filled with tears, but none fell. She had learned long ago not to cry.

"It's me," she whispered, her voice nearly lost to the wind, "You're starflower. I came back like I promised I would. I made this for you. A crown, fit for a king and his queen."

Above her, Athena gave a low, quiet coo. It was a reminder that she was watching. Always watching.

Aster glanced up. For a moment, blue eyes met gold, and nothing more needed to be said. She looked back to the stones. Her voice, when it came again, was lower and firmer, "I know who did it."

The wind stirred, but she did not move. Her jaw tightened, "I know where he is. I know where he sleeps....and I will not fail you."

Her eyes fell, shoulders bowing as she spoke to her father's stone, "Don't be angry. I know you would be." A faint, giggling breath escaped, "You always said it. No one steals from a warlock."

The hint of a smile faltered before it could take shape. Her gaze shifted to the wreath, "I did. From his lands. From him. I shouldn't have," she admitted, but still justified it, “They were already cut… left to wither. They would have died anyway."

Even as she said it, the excuse rang hollow, but she did not take it back, nor did she hide behind it either, "It was still foolish."

Silence settled again, heavier this time. Her shoulders drew in. Not from the cold, but from the strain, "I have nothing. Not even the clothes I wear."

Her fingers brushed the edge of the wreath, "So I brought you this."

Something shifted in her...unwelcomed, insistent. A thought she tried to turn away from, but couldn't. A single brow lifted, "Maybe I wanted him to know. Maybe I wanted to be caught…because....what would he do??" A bitter edge crept in, "Punish me? As if that would be new. She already has.....and them. Every day I am their puppet. So tell me… what could he do that I haven’t already endured?"

Aster remained still, her gaze fixed on the vines. Her tone was hushed, as if she were afraid to speak of the warlock lord, "I…I’ve never even seen him. Not truly." The name sat strangely on her tongue when she spoke it, "Alistair Caine."

He was half memory, half story.

"Only…profile glimpses from a distance. No one stepped too close or looked for too long. From what I could see though, he was stunning."

She drifted to the last sighting. It was summer. A polished carriage made from dark poplar, cut through the streets of Dorwinion. Guards flanked it, their attention fixed ahead. A beautiful, blonde woman emerged after him, assisted by his hand. He was said to have had many young, women suitors. They came from near and far.

Aster couldn't blame them. The wealth. The charm. What girl wouldn't desire a tall, dark and handsome, and very powerful man dressed in sharply tailored attire, and enjoy all the luxury and extravagance that came with him, even if it was only until he lost interest and moved onto the next in line? Heavy was the crown, she thought wryly, although he didn't wear one.

She swallowed heavily, "When he passed through, people like us…we weren’t seen. He was visibly arrogant. He would only look to those who mattered. The wealthy ones…or the guilty, which I suppose," she said quietly, "that leaves me one way to be noticed."

The words should have sounded like fear. They almost did, but something softer slipped through. A breath of a laugh escaped her, "I used to imagine it differently. Foolish things…attending one of his magical balls."

For a moment, it was there, light spilling gold across polished floors, music rising and falling, silk in place of worn cloth. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her skirt, "Not like this."

She hesitated, color rising faintly beneath the soot, "I thought…maybe he would see me. Dance with me." She paused, feeling flushed, "…kiss me. It would be my first."

The silence that followed was enough. Aster straightened slightly and sighed, "So childish."

She looked back at her father's stone, grounded again, "They say warlocks are monsters, but you weren't. Not that I can remember, even if I was just a child...so I'll see what he really is when he decides what to do with me...if I'm caught."

The tears couldn't be contained any longer as she spoke to her mother. Her voice was different. Shaken and hurt, "I...I saw it. All of it. You tried to help them, even though they were dark and you were not. I understand though. He was still your father. I would have done the same for mine if it were him, just as I tried to do the same for you." She smiled with a bitter pride, "But that's who you were. Good. Selfless. You chose the light, and it cleansed the darkness within you."

The shift came, bringing rage as her memory sharpened, "The others, they didn't care to see the truth. They were supposed to be elves of light, but they were just as dark as the ones they sought and destroyed."

Fire. Smoke. Shouting, screaming cut short as they cut them...you, down.

"You wore their black blood....and that was enough to assume. I still see it....every night. It never fades. Their faces don't change. I remember them all."

Her stare narrowed, "I remember his. He was there, a bloodied sword in each hand, commanding them. Those eyes. I'll never forget those moonlike eyes. They met mine. He saw me...."

Aster squeezed her fist so tight, her knuckles blanched. Through clenched teeth, her voice rattled, "And he did nothing. I will never forget and I will not forgive. I will avenge you. Somehow. Someway....Someday. When I'm strong enough."

She lifted her glistening eyes to the gray sky above the tree. Her voice was soft, but still strong, "Mother....Father....if you can hear me, help me."

No answer came but something had been set into motion. A vow. A path and a reckoning that had already begun.

Athena's head sharply turned to the North, and her wings spread wide as she delivered three warning hoots. Her urgency was unmistakable. It was time to go home.

Catching a lost breath, Aster too, quickly turned, then ran. Athena took immediate flight and faithfully followed.

The snow was deep, dragging at Aster's legs as she retraced her steps up the hill to the dark forest, the shorter way back, and she didn't slow until she made it to the top.

The branches clawed at her sleeves at she pushed through the deadwood. The forest changed as she moved. The light faded and the silence deepened. A macabre scene surrounded her. Burnt trees and blackened trunks were all that remained in the place where it all had happened.

Athena soared above, her cries relentless, but Aster's strides didn't falter. Trees blurred past, black and skeletal, when suddenly....he was there. Not a memory. There, standing between the charred trunks, twin swords drawn, the silver edges catching a light that wasn't there. His armor was unmarred as he stood before his army, gaze fixed upon her, cold and knowing....just like that night.

(AI work posted by thranduilxthorin)

Her feet and breath stumbled. Space narrowed around her. For a heartbeat, he felt real, too real, but then the forest shifted around him. The dead became visible, scattered about the forest floor. The smell of blood and smoke filled the air. Enchanted whispers taunted her until she broke.

"Get out of my head!!!" she shouted at the Elvenking, "You're not real! It's the forest!"

Thranduil remained, staring, unblinking, watching her with his cold, merciless moons.

Her anger surged, which brought forth an elvish tongue that deemed him evil, a monster, "Ulund!!! I will kill you morchath!!!"

His image suddenly fractured. The edges of his form unraveled and thinned. Into smoke, his image bled, twisting through the trees and swallowed by the wind, leaving nothing behind except for the echo of his stare and the certainty that even when he was gone, he wasn't.

Wasting no time, Aster sprinted away and broke through the last of the trees to find Arion, her horse, white against the ruin, right where she had left him.

She pulled herself up and drove him forward with urgency. He surged into motion, his hooves tearing through the snow. She wouldn't, she couldn't look back. Her only thought was to get back to Dorwinion before she was missed.

The wind cut harder. Cold, sharp and unforgiving. Aster's heart raced and pounded in alignment with the horse's hooves. It was all too loud. Every sound felt like pursuit. Every shadow felt like watching eyes.

The land finally opened and there it was. The jagged coastline, and beyond it, the Black Sea of Rhûn, dark and restless beneath the melancholy sky.

The treacherous body of water wasn't the only sore sight there. The castle that used to be her home, stood broken along the rocky shore, weathered and hollow, stripped of warmth and life.

Aster's breath quavered. She didn't mean to look, but the pull was too strong. The tower, still intact, rose above the ruin and within it, the fateful window.

Her grip violently tightened upon the reigns as the memory crashed in like the waves of the sea. The wind screamed. The salt was thick in the air. A figure of the past stood on the ledge of the window. Her grieving father. There was no hesitation, no turning back as he leapt into the black, raging abyss below. The salt was too much. Not meant for his kind. It took him like a shoal of flesh eating piranhas.

A raw scream tore free from her broken breath before she could stop it, "AHHHH!!!!"

Her cry was carried into the wind and swallowed by the sea. The pain, the rage, the loss, everything she held at the graves, was shattered.

Above, Athena cried too. Startled, Arion surged faster. Tears blurred Aster's vision but she didn't wipe them away. Instead, she let them fall, lost to the wind.

Forcing her eyes forward, Aster drug herself back to the present. It was all that mattered. Dowinion, her cruel aunt and cousins, the life she must return to.

As Aster held a breath, the horse raced on toward the city, toward the warlock, toward everything that waited for her.

The city rose ahead, warm lights, distant voices, a world that never knew where she had been. Aster slowed the horse when the outer dwellings came into view, just before the back gates that were mostly used by the lowly. It made it so much simpler for her to leave and enter unnoticed. She didn't enter though.

Without hesitation, she led Arion down a narrow, barely visible path that broke off through the trees. Behind them was a weathered farm and Alfred, her father's longtime and loyal caretaker, leaning on the fence, waiting. His aging eyes found her.

"You made it back."

Aster slid off the horse too quickly in her rush. Her legs almost faltered, but she managed to stay upright. As she hurried to the barn, Athena perched upon the fence, to wait and to watch.

Breathless, she placed Arion in his bay, and stood at the window to also watch....just in case. She could never shake the habit of always looking over her shoulder.

She expressed her gratitude to Alfred as she ran her hand along Arion's neck, "Thank you. He did well, as always."

He nodded, but his attention remained on her and not the horse. Her clothes, the snow frozen to them, the look in her eyes. He knew where she went.

"You shouldn't be out there."

Her guilty eyes met his. He softly smiled.

"I'll repay you...somehow, for all you have done for me, for Arion."

Alfred exhaled, and lightly shook his head as he glanced toward the city from the window, "No. No you won't. What you need isn't a debt. You need to leave and get away from your Aunt Catherine. Take your father's horse and your mother's owl, and just ride, far, far away."

Her eyes fell to Arion with sadness, "I can't. You know this....and I won't leave you. You never left me."

"Then stay here with me. It's not much, but it's yours if you need it. You're plenty old enough to do as you please. I've thought long and hard about it. You know you are like a daughter to me Aster Rose. I watched you grow into a beautiful, young woman. You can be closer to Arion too, as you should be. After all, he is rightfully yours, as all else should have been. King Agonis was very clear about that in his will." He growled in disgust about Catherine, "That wretched woman. She's not even of full Rose blood."

It was true. She was a half-sibling, older on the outside, who deserved nothing in Aster's eyes, but took everything, from her, and from Alfred.

For a single moment, she considered it. Warmth, safety, a door that wasn't locked, but reality came rushing back. Her aunt, the city, the reach she could not escape, and worse yet, what could happen to Alfred and Arion. Catherine was wicked. No one dared step upon her toes, and she despised animals.

Aster shook her head firmly, "No. I don't have anything. No coin, no trade, no way to live. She controls my father's fortune. I'll never see a single cent...and I won't bring her to your door."

Alfred knew she was right, but he didn't like it. He nodded, "Then go carefully....and quickly, before she finds you astray...if she has not already."

Aster nodded and embraced him, "Thank you again, for everything."

She turned to Arion, and gently kissed his forehead, "I'll see you later my sweet boy. I'm sorry we cannot be together. Maybe someday, but as it's been, Alfred must tend to you."

As she ran toward the path, he called to her, "Girl! You don't owe anyone your life!"

She paused, just slightly to glance back. The words were heavy but they didn't take root. Not yet. She gave an apologetic shake of her head, then disappeared into the trees. Dawn would soon come.

Aster ran up the stone walkway, cleared of snow, but shining with slickness beneath the lantern lights. Her breath was ragged, and her chest was burning as her eyes fixated on the house that loomed ahead. A dark, elegant mansion rising two stories high, crowned by three narrow towers that pierced the winter sky. Most of the windows glowed with warm light. It was too many.

She slowed herself at the door, hands shaking. It creaked as she opened it, just enough for her to peek inside. The warmth spilled out, golden against her cold, wind-bitten face.

Athena's distant hoot cut through the evening air. Aster gasped, whirling slightly, her eyes darting behind her. A sharp and sudden spike of fear cut through her chest. Sneaking inside, the door closed with a soft click.

It was too quiet. The foyer stretched before her, polished floors, dimmed light, everything pristine and untouched. Nothing of it belonged to her.

She moved carefully, tiptoeing, each step deliberate and controlled. As she rounded the corner to the lower level, the underground corridors that was her space, her cousin Claude stood before her, waiting.

She was beautiful and composed. Her long reddish-brown hair, pinned at the top, fell in soft curls over her shoulders, and her gown was rich and elegant, something worn to places Aster was never mean to attend.

A sharp breath caught in Claude's throat as she smiled, slow and smug.

"Oh mother..." she mocked, brown eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Look what the cat dragged in!"

The words of summoning echoed down the hall. Clacking footsteps, fast and heavy upon the hallway's wood floor, were quickly heard. There were brief pauses that turned into thuds as the steps pounded across the expensive rugs.

Catherine appeared, also elegantly dressed. Her sandy brown hair was pinned high with perfection. A delicate crown rested upon her head. Not earned, but worn as if it were. Jewels caught the light as they dangled from her ears. Everything Aster was denied was displayed openly.

Her brown-eyed glare landed on Aster, "Where have you been??"

Aster tried to answer, but no words were found. She knew she should have rehearsed, for she was a terrible liar. Her mind scrambled for something, anything safe to say but still...nothing.

Patience was lost. Through clenched teeth, her aunt's fury unleashed, "Answer me!!!"

Aster jumped. The sound cracked through her as if she had been struck, and that would soon come if she did not find an acceptable excuse.

Claude watched, pleased and smiling. Waiting for the punishment to be handed down.

Frazzled and defensive, Aster's hands tightened and instinctively curled at her sides, wishing to knock that ridiculous crown off of her unroyal head.

Her lips parted, attempting the lie she still couldn't find, "I—"

Catherine cut her off, and snarled, "Were you with that old man and that damn horse again??"

Aster's eyes widened, and her heart lurched. Now the lie truly mattered.

Catherine's nose wrinkled as she stepped forward, disgusted, "You reek of horse dung."

Amused, Claude giggled.

"No," Aster clamped, shaking her head, "No..."

It was too fast. She needed to steady herself and force something more believable. Arion's and Alfred's safety depended on it.

"I was....across town, on the high bridge...."

Her mind scrambled again, grabbing at whatever pieces it could, "Watching the ships. They were so, um.....large."

Entertained and skeptical, Claude's brow lifted, but Aster pressed on, committed even more to the lie. Her pulse hammered in her ears, "On my way back, I wasn't paying attention and I....stepped in it. There were many carriages out today."

There was silence as Catherine studied her, longer than Aster would have liked.

Softly and dismissively, Catherine scoffed, coldly amused, "Of course you were. Sheer folly, wandering around like a witless stray. No sense, no purpose. Your frolicking is unacceptable. You are an embarrassment, and a useless, unsightly burden. Just look at you."

She steps back, chin high. Her decision was made, "You will still be punished for leaving without permission and returning late. You will be locked in your room for the night. No supper. On the morrow, you will remain in this house and clean. Laundry. Floors. Everything. No food. For you, it needs to be earned, but first...go upstairs and assist Rachel with her corset and hair. We will be heading out soon and you...are not invited."

Catherine turned, but stopped to look down at Aster's feet, "First, take that atrocious footwear to the cellar and remove them. I will not have you tracking such filth through my home, then...bring me a bottle of wine and serve me a glass. I need many after dealing with you."

The room was small, bare, and barn-like, dimly lit by a single window. Not big enough for escape. Outside the glass, Athena softly cooed.

"Come on," Aster quietly invited as she unlatched the pointless lock.

The owl slipped inside, giving a rustle of her wings as she perched on the bed post where Aster sat tired and drained, but her spirit was not broken.

She pulled off her boots, grimacing slightly, and muttered as she tossed them aside, "My father was too trusting of that worm of a woman. Sharing half his blood will never make her my family, even if she was all that was left of it. She's nothing to me and she's nothing like my father, who clearly didn't see the true color of her heart. She fooled him. No magic either. None of them do, but then again....neither do I."

Aster sighed, staring down at her thawing feet, "I should poison the wine."

After a brief pause, she looked up at Athena, who blinked once, and softly cooed in response.

Aster smiled, "You know I wouldn't."

Her expression changed to darkness as her thoughts helplessly traveled to the Elvenking, "There's only one that I would end."

The bottle rested in Aster's hand as she climbed back to the level of luxury. In the main hall, she poured the Dorwinion wine into a crystal goblet. The sweet, strong, and enticing scent graced her nose. It was labeled as a wicked wine, as she had heard most call it. One glass was rumored to impair a grown man.

Aster gazed into the blood-colored liquid, tempted. One sip wouldn't hurt, would it? She'd never tasted it, but Claude and Rachel were permitted to drink it.

All was silent. She looked from left to right, then again before bringing the glass to her lips, and almost....no. She mustn't. With such a strong smell, Catherine would surely detect it on her breath, and Aster knew she would end up eating soap to wash it away.

She lowered the glass, frowning at the disturbing thought, then a flicker of defiance, almost childlike, came over her. Bringing the glass back to her mouth, Aster spit into it, subtle and quick.

Giving it a mixing swirl, Aster paraded down the hall and delivered it with a smile upon her face, and upon her departure, she watched from around the corner with great satisfaction as Catherine took a hefty swallow.

Onwards and upwards, Aster made her way to the towers as instructed. As she opened Rachel's door, firelight flickered across the darkened room, and Claude and Rachel sat at the table, cheerfully indulging in the wicked wine....until Aster was noticed.

Rachel snapped her goblet down and crossed her arms like a pouting child.

"What are you doing in my room??" she huffed.

Rachel wasn't nearly as pretty as Claude. Her long, scarlet hair fell wild with uneven waves and choppy, stiff bangs, and her gown was simple, a plain purple with no jewels worn to brighten the dull appearance, but her presence was just as sharp as her sister's....who leered at Aster.

Aster quietly answers, "I was ordered to help you with your dress and hair."

Rachel scoffed, turning her nose up, "You will not touch me. I will not have filthy hands upon my dress or my hair. Even if my hair was unkempt and soiled like yours, I still would not let you near it. Clean my room instead."

Aster pulled a cloth from her pocket, and with her head lowered, she began to dust. Both sisters watched her, smiling, then Claude finally spoke, and the taunting began.

"You smell worse up close."

"It suits her," Rachel promptly added.

As Aster ignored them and kept busy, they trapped and circled her slowly, taking turns with their claws like some game. In Aster's eyes, it felt more like a coven of witches.

"Tell us," Claude continued, "did you roll in it?"

Rachel leaned closer, her voice sharp, "Or is that just what your kind smells like?"

Aster hand stilled, just for a moment, and they noticed. They always noticed.

"Oh, there it is!" Claude raved, and snatched the cloth from Aster's hand.

Aster turned, head low as her eyes reluctantly lifted, meeting Rachel's.

Rachel's mocking words twisted in her mouth, aiming for Aster's heart, "The elf blood."

Claude grinned, then stepped closer, toying with Aster's braid, "Didn't help her much, did it? Mistaken for the wrong kind. Slaughtered and burned away to ash. Should have minded her own business, but she cared more about her dark elf father than her own child. Azrael. What kind of name is that anyways? Sounds devilish, like someone who followed and worshiped the necromancer."

Round and round, they continued to slither and circle and cackle, their forked tongues growing crueler, sharper, dizzying Aster.

The siblings were both evil, but if Aster were to choose the worst, Rachel was the more sinister of the pair. Her goal was to weaponize fear, and make Aster feel like there was no safety anywhere, especially about Thranduil.

"All elves are predators. Even the ones of light. Devils in disguise. Their fiendish eyes, and pale, colorless hair, just like the King of Mirkwood, the most nefarious of them all, but you knew that, didn't you? He may look like a golden king in a pretty crown, but I've heard the stories you haven't, about what happens in those halls when the doors close, when the torches burn low."

Picking up a lit candle, Rachel placed it beneath her chin to create a ghostly effect, and resumed her witches dance, "They don't sleep, you know. Not like we do. He doesn't lie down and dream. He just waits....his eyes open in the dark, piercing, ice cold, detached and dangerous and when something human-like wanders too close...."

Rachel stopped behind Aster and leaned in, "BOO!!"

Aster flinched and squeaked, but didn't unravel. She stood her ground as Rachel went on, turning Thranduil into a vampire, which Aster didn't find too far fetched.

"He smells it. Fear. Warm blood. It's irresistible to something old. They say he's beautiful up close. He wears a black tiara and a small, cruel smile...until you notice his teeth. Fangs like razors. He'll sink them in your neck and suck you dry as a prune."

Claude scoffed and giggled. She didn't echo her sister's eerie tone and exaggerated tales. She made it feel real and unavoidable, "He would never drink her blood. It's black, not red. I doubt he even drinks blood at all."

She turned back to Aster, "But that doesn't mean he's not wicked at heart....I'm truly surprised he didn't finish you too, since you're one of the dark. Being a child would carry no shame. Not for the Elvenking. He will come for you one night... while you're in your bed. Maybe even tonight, and slaughter you in your sleep with the same blades he used upon your mother. They will go through you like a hot knife and butter."

With her finger sliding slowly across her neck from side to side, Claude made the gesture of cutting her throat, and added a sinister sound for special effects.

"It will be so fast. You won't even have time to blink, let alone scream, as if anyone could, or would try to help you. You saw it for yourself, what helping others brings. Blood. So much blood."

Rachel snuck up behind Aster once more, poking her in the sides, "BOO again!"

This time Aster screamed, and spun around, her stomach twisting in knots, her breaths heavy as both girls bellowed in laughter.

"You got something to say to me?" Rachel sneered, "Well go on, say it then."

Aster let her eyes fall again. It was two against one. She would likely take a beating if she spoke.

Rachel chuckled, "I didn't think so wench. You're a coward, just like your father. Jumping into the sea like that. Seems he didn't love you that much either."

Aster's hands trembled, and it was also noticed, and enjoyed.

Claude clapped with delight, "OH! and I forgot..." She produces something from the table, pushing it in Aster's face. "This is what we were celebrating when we were so rudely interrupted."

An invitation, elegant and embossed, signed personally in red ink with a precise penmanship, by the one and only, King Alistair Caine. The parchment had a soft linen-textured look and carried the fragrance of the wine Aster had inhaled. Intense dark grapes and sweet berries, with a subtle hint of wildflowers and nectar from the sun-warmed vineyards in the great gardens of Dorwinion. Of course Aster knew that because she had been there, uninvited and trespassing.

"We're going to a ball!!!" Claude bragged, "A royal one. Next month, and you're not invited."

Rachel tilted her head, frowning at Aster, "Can you imagine? If Alistair Caine saw you?"

Claude crinkled her nose again, "He'd lock you away in a cage at one of his carnivals, circus freak. You look and smell of one. Go on now, go back to your well-suited cave before you pass your stench along to us."

Without a word, Aster returned to her room. It's dark, only the moonlight gave her sight. The house felt emptier now, but not safer.

Kneeling beside her bed, her hand slipped far beneath and found the small, wooden box hidden out of sight. She sat quietly on the old, lumpy mattress and opened it, pulling out one single thing. A ring made of pure silver, her father's.

As she held it in her hand, turning it about, a memory flickered. A table by the window where he left it. Salty wind rushing in. The place where he chose to leave the world....leave her. She had quickly taken it so Catherine wouldn't get her hands on it, for Aster knew if that happened, it would have been gone, like everything else.

Agonis had left it behind for two reasons. He wanted his only daughter to have it to remember him by, and because if he would have left it on, it would have shielded him from the salt of the sea. It was a special ring, magical, that the warlock king had weaved his own unique spell into for protection, but the only use it served Aster was feeling closer to her father each time she wore it.

She slipped it onto her ring finger, tears threatening to fall, but she still held them back. It fit, too well. His hands were small.

Emotional pain rushed over her as the callous words and implications from earlier echoed through her head. Coward. Filth. Freak. Useless. Unloved. The list went on. When finished, she added her own and spoke it in a whisper, "Alone."

A stray tear escaped, but she promptly wiped it away. She couldn't let them weaken her. It's what they wanted. It gave them the power they lacked. She had cried day and night after her parents deaths and she paid the price for it. Cry baby. Shut up. Grow up. Big girls don't cry. After that, she suffered in silence, learning to cope, to grieve as an abandoned child without showing emotions.

The day's events and starvation had depleted Aster of all energy. She had been lost in thought so long, that she had dozed off, still sitting up, slightly drooling, just like her father had done from time to time. Suddenly, fast footsteps were approaching her door and it startled her from her slumber. With her heart pounding, she tore the ring from her finger, and placed it back in the box, then slid it under the bed, but she knew it wasn't pushed back far enough to go unnoticed.

There was no time. Aster quickly sprawled her skirt around her feet to hide it, then she waited for the door to swing open, but it didn't. Instead, there was a loud click. The door had been locked as warned.

The footsteps retreated, just as fast as they had came, and then they were gone. Silence was back, but only briefly.

Soon after, voices arose from outside. Aster moved to the small window and opened it for some air, and to watch Catherine, Claude, and Rachel head out to the awaiting carriage, draped in finery, and their laughter trailing behind them, along with their perfume that carried in the wintry breeze right to Aster's nose. With a sorrowful sigh, she watched the lantern light inside the carriage fade as they disappeared into the night.

More silence settled over the house. Much deeper, but more peaceful with them gone. Alone again, Aster returned to her bed and put the ring back on, then laid down with the hand that bore the ring upon her chest, eyes closed. Thump by thump, she counted the beats of her heart, a nightly ritual to aid her in finding sleep. Most nights it was a slow process, for her thoughts and fears were defiant of allowing rest, but this night, it came quickly.

Her breaths were steady and soft as sleep took her, and then, the dark forest came again as it always did, but it changed. A garden of roses, black as night with red undertones, stretched endlessly, replacing the dead, burnt trees, but smoke remained, lingering through the air like smog. She could smell it.

The roses were so beautiful, inviting, tempting. The fragrance was unlike any she had known—velvet sweetness layered with smoke and winter air. Beneath it lingered the deep scent of dark wine and something almost forbidden, rich as overripe fruit left too long in moonlight.

Somewhere beyond the garden, a violin sang through the dark. Slow. Haunting. The melody drifted like smoke between the roses, beautiful enough to draw breath from her lungs, yet wrong in a way she could feel beneath her skin, causing the fine hairs to rise.

Each note trembled with longing, then twisted into something colder before it could soften completely. It sounded ancient. Seductive. Mourning something unnamed. The strings rose and fell like a whisper against the throat, gentle one moment, almost predatory the next.

And beneath it all lingered a terrible feeling….as though the music itself wanted her to come closer, but she couldn't move.

In her stillness, something else moved among the roses. A figure. The elvenking, but not as she remembered him. No armor, No fire. No blood speckled upon his face. This was something else.

Black silk draped his giant form, long sleeves embroidered with subtle darkness. A high collar framed his throat, open just enough to reveal his pale chest beneath. Velvet fell from his shoulders in a heavy, shadowed cape. A crown rested upon his beautiful head, black, sharp, adorned with obsidian glass that drank the light. At his throat was a matching piece, dark, deliberate… wicked. Hair, almost silver, flowed long with a perfected braid drawing down the back. His eyes were of moonlight surrounded by shadow, and in his hand, he carried his sword. It cast her reflection.

In a very slow saunter, he walked among the roses as if they belonged to him. Carefully, he plucked one, mindful of the thorns, for there many, sharp as his blade. She wondered if his teeth were too, like Rachel described, but he never smiled.

He lifted the rose to his lips, breathing it in, then he looked at Aster. Something was in his gaze. Not rage. Not cruelty. Something far more dangerous.

Petals began to fall, drifting through the air like ash. Black and red, like the blood her mother wore, but the red was ignored.

He didn't look away, nor did Aster. He stepped closer and closer. The world narrowed to him alone, and then... he leaned down, close enough to hold her breath captive. Close enough that his deep voice did not need to rise, and then the words came.

"Run child."

Art by jenya_I_art who granted me permission to use her work for my fic. I added the music. Enjoy!

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