Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time she dreamt of him, it was in a city. Beautiful, was her first thought as she walked around the very edge of it, accompanied by a strange, and yet somehow very familiar figure. The streets were wide, paved with stone and marble, rather than tarmac and cement, spires of white marble rising high into the sky, glistening in the pale moonlight. It was a cold night, the greyish cloak wrapped around her shoulders attested to it, as did the breath misting in the air in front of her.

“Cold?” His voice was teasing.

She folded her arms with a huff, a sharp clink sounding as her vambraces met the metal of her chest plate. “Hardly,” she said, scowling as she peered out at the mountains surrounding them – protecting them from unwanted gazes and whatnot. “Why? Would you like my cloak to help keep those bony knees of yours from shaking?”

“I would be far more worried about your own,” he retorted, chuckling quietly as they continued on their patrol.

She kicked at his shin half-heartedly, her scowl only widening as he dodged the amateurish strike like the well-trained warrior he was. It was only to be expected though. He did have a good few hundred years of training on her, if not more. Still, she couldn’t deny the overwhelming urge to hit him, even just a light tap. She had never really been able to land a proper hit on him ever since her training had started so landing a hit on him would be an achievement she would cherish. “Stay still and let me hit you! I am not so feeble as to let the winds bring me down. It would take a balrog or two to have you rid of me.”

Pain flared between her eyebrows, his hand retreating before she could even attempt to retaliate for the little flick he’d delivered. “Do not talk about such things so idly. You have never even seen a balrog before. You know not their terror, little one.” He chuckled, bright eyes sad as he stared levelly at her. It was odd to see such an expression on his face – one which usually seemed so bright and joyful. “You would likely run a league if ever you saw one. They are not to be trifled with.”

“Pssh. If you could survive seeing them, I am sure I similarly could.”

He shook his head, that musical voice of his ringing out over the winds, a soft, wistful smile on his lips as he spoke. “Reckless idiot, that is what you are.”

“And proud of it,” she muttered, striding ahead, her silvery cloak flaring behind her. His was of much finer quality, the mantle white, embroidered with golden stitching in the pattern of celandine, the hem of which dragged across the paving behind him. Though that was only to be expected. He was a Lord of one of the Twelve Houses, and she was just another elf under his command as her parents were. The gap between them sometimes felt like the heavens and the earth. “Now let us hurry and get this patrol over with. The less time I have to spend in your company, the better.”

“Might I remind you I am the Lord of the House you and your family fall under?” Arms folded, mirroring her own pose, startling grey eyes staring down into her bluish ones. She had inherited the blue tint in the grey from her mother, along with the silver locks that sometimes seemed to glow in the moonlight. “A little respect would not go amiss, in fact it may even go as far as to aid you.”

“Not on your life,” she grumbled, silvery hair flying out behind her on the breeze that swept past them as they both continued on their patrol. “I would sooner admit my undying love for you.”

“Your undying love?” One golden brow rose in query, and she almost laughed aloud at the puzzled questioning look upon his face. She increased her pace, voice carried to him on the wind when she finally spoke.

“I will give you a hint – it is non-existent.”

He caught up to her widened strides in seconds, one of the many perks of being taller than her and having longer legs. “I will be telling your father all about this conversation,” he murmured, a mocking edge to his voice as per usual whenever he threatened her with her parents. They were rather terrifying still, even if she was no longer a little elfling, and no matter how regal her lord seemed he very much enjoyed reminding her of that.

“I am quaking in my boots here,” she muttered dryly.

“As you should.” A smirk graced his elegant lips, and she sorely wished she had the strength to land a hit on him so she could wipe it from his face. “But come, stubborn elleth, let us get this patrol over and done with so you can be rid of me until the sun rises—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

A stubborn mechanical beeping sounded, slicing through the wonderful, if slightly weird, dream. Her peace and quiet was shattered, her hand coming around to slam down on the annoyance of an alarm. Anna groaned, silently longing for her cosy covers as she pushed the blankets back and stumbled blindly into the bathroom. The light nearly blinded her when she flicked it on, the bulb flashing for a few moments before the harsh brightness became constant. “Ugh,” she grunted, splashing water over her face. “Another day…”

Her usual morning routine was finished within the hour, the sounds of cars honking as she stepped out of her apartment, locking the door safely behind her. Her black hair fluttered on the breeze, dark brown eyes gazing out across the city. It was nothing like the one from her dreams, but then again, there hadn’t really been any cars in her strange dream… and that man beside her. She sighed dreamily. She was turning thirty soon, and she’d never had a single boyfriend or romantic date despite her best friend’s insistence, though she doubted anybody could match the beauty of the strange man from her dreams. Snorting, she shook her head, climbing behind the wheel of her car. There she went, setting unimaginable standards. It was no surprise she’d never dated anybody.

Yawning, she drove to her workplace – a set of offices, the building of which couldn’t compare to the spires from her dreams. She liked those spires. She loved that city. Her heart had been captured by it, the details burned into her memory. Honestly, she was oddly amazed her brain could come up with details like that.

“Morning, Anna!” Rochel came up behind her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she dragged the pair of them towards the elevator which would take them up and out of the carpark. “How’s the cold?” she asked, showing her usual concern as best friends should. “All gone?”

“You’d better hope so,” she said, smiling gently as the doors pinged open and they stepped inside – out of the bitter cold of the underground carpark. “We’re not through the worst of winter just yet though.”

“Which means more colds to come,” Rochel muttered. “Ugh, why do you always have to get sick? I bet you in your last life you didn’t get sick at all and this is some sort of karmic retribution. Maybe that’s why you have ungodly luck… I mean, there has to be some sort of compromise.”

Anna flicked her smack right between the eyebrows. “Come on, slowpoke. Some of us need to earn a living, you know.”

“What the hell was that flick for?” she grumbled, rubbing at her sore head.

Anna paused. It wasn’t like she could say she did it because some guy in a dream did it to her. That would result in a weird look or two, and possibly Rochel offering to take over her shift so she could go home. Her best friend was an unfortunate worrywart. “I felt like it,” she said, smirking at her.

Work was annoyingly slow. Maybe that was why she fell asleep at her desk on her break and started dreaming of that city yet again.

He was an absolute slave driver – that same golden-haired warrior she’d met before. She stood in the middle of a training ground of sorts, her sword in her hands, fingers aching from the sheer force behind some of the blows. She really shouldn’t have irritated him last night. “Keep your guard up,” he ordered. “You are slipping.”

“I am trying not to,” she hissed through her gasps for air, arms aching ever so slightly as she parried and dodged all the blows she could, and yet there were still some that slipped through. There was nothing quite like having the full attention of one’s Lord, especially when sparring. He was a terrifying opponent. One she really wanted to beat. Or at least punch in his annoyingly perfect face just once, seeing as the other option wasn’t really all that feasible. “You are just too strong. My hands are becoming number with each blow.” Not to mention all the fancy footwork and improvisation she’d been forced to do with her poor small feet.

“And this is why you need to toughen yourself. You will not be standing up to any balrogs in your state,” he said, smiling down at her far too sweetly. Sometimes she really hated her slightly less than average height. Everything about her was seemingly lesser in some way. “But I do suppose you could be doing some endurance training while waiting for the feeling in your hands to come back.”

Silently cursing him, she put her sword back on the rack, knowing better than to volunteer for some other form of training. So she quietly walked to the edge of the training grounds where she began running around the edge, watching as her trainer went and beat up some of the other trainees. Not that she minded. It was nice not to be the sole recipient of his attention, especially when it came to training. He was one of their best warriors for a reason, and Lord of the House she and her fellow trainees resided in for a good reason. She was probably the youngest trainee too at just a few hundred years old. It was hardly a wonder nobody thought she’d be capable of much. And it explained why she was always forced to do more endurance training and the like compared to the rest of them who could seemingly train for hours upon end without breaking a sweat.

“Any of that feeling back in your hands yet?” that teasing voice asked, and she skidded to a stop, eyeing him as he called her out. “Or should you run a few more laps?”

“I am fine,” she grunted, grabbing her sword as she stepped back into the ring.

“If you are not well enough you can always call it a day there. The intensity will only grow from here on in if you wish to stay,” he said, staring down at her, the teasing glint fading from both his eyes and his voice. “You have already done well for an elleth of your age. Experience and endurance come with age, and you ought to know your limits.”

Her jaw set, and the ridiculous stubbornness she was becoming well known for made an appearance. “I am fine.”

Grey eyes narrowed, glittering almost dangerously. “Are you certain?”

“Bring it, Goldilocks,” she muttered, taking up her stance, ignoring the thrill which ran through her at the small approving smile he gave her. Just because she couldn’t say no to a challenge didn’t mean she was a reckless idiot. She was strong, especially for someone her age, and she’d prove it. She was tired of being the weakest one. She’d be finishing drills with the rest of the House of the Golden Flower in no time at all… rather than being sent back home a few hours before.

“As you wish.”

Ten minutes later, she regretted those words, her vision swimming as she struggled to block his blows, hands numb as she swayed on her feet. She hated him with a passion. Especially since he was the one who’d driven her to that state. This was totally going to be another lesson on learning her limits, she just knew it. That hadn’t been an approving smile he’d given her – it had been an I’m-about-to-beat-you-until-you-understand-your-idiocy smile. She panted, glaring as best she could past the ache in her limbs. Just a little longer… she just had to last a little longer…

The sword slipped from her grip, clattering to the ground with a loud clang. She could feel the eyes of the rest of the courtyard on her as she swayed dangerously on her feet, and her sparring partner pulled his own blade away just as quickly, empty hands reaching out to steady her as he stared down at her yet again. She felt ridiculously small all of a sudden, her vision tunnelling as she fell forwards, blinking slowly as her cheek found itself pressed against the metal of a chest plate. It wasn’t like she needed three guesses to work out exactly whose it was as she was hefted over a broad shoulder.

“And off to the Healer’s Ward we go… again…” he murmured, and she could feel him shaking his head. “Reckless idiot.”

A tired scowl marred her face as she hung there. She’d so totally have kicked him if she’d had the strength.

“Anna?”

She grumbled, eyes opening blearily, blinking as she realised her body didn’t feel like she’d been in a train wreck. She wiped at the sleepy dust, staring blearily at Rochel as she placed a boxed lunch down in front of her. “Hey, Roch,” she mumbled, yawning as she pried her face from the desk, stretching her arms up over her head. “What’s up?”

“You sure you’re OK?” Rochel stared down at her, bright blue eyes narrowed in concern. “You were sleeping like the dead, and you weren’t even snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Need I remind you of that time I came over for a sleepover?” One brown eyebrow rose. “I got absolutely no sleep.”

“I. Don’t. Snore.”

Rochel chuckled. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Anna groaned, wincing ever so slightly at the slight ache in her temples. She was definitely going to have a headache later. “I’m fine, worrywart. Now sit down,” she ordered. “We have our lunch to eat.”

“You don’t want to go to the canteen?”

“Too noisy,” she muttered. “I like peace and quiet.”

“I take it you don’t want to go out for a pint later then?” Rochel asked, no doubt already knowing her answer. She only went out drinking on events, like birthdays or other celebrations. Her mother had often said she was introverted and shy – preferring the company of her close friends in a location she knew rather than the wilds of nightclubs and mosh pits. She stayed as far away from those as possible.

“We could have a girl’s night… it is the weekend starting tomorrow.”

“You’re talking weirdly,” Rochel said, cracking open her own lunch box. “But yes, definitely, to the girl’s night. I’ll invite Shannon and Mira. They should be able to make it on such short notice.”

“They just love crashing at my place,” Anna mumbled, smiling fondly as she remembered all the other times they’d wound up over at her place. “And ruining my nice wine glasses.”

“You have the comfiest sofas and actual glasses dedicated to wine.”

Anna shrugged. “I have good taste.”

Rochel chuckled. “Sure you do. What time do you want us over?” she asked, pulling out her phone, tapping her fingers on the screen at lightspeed, messaging the group chat they had set up for the four of them. “Is five OK for you?”

“That’s fine.”

“Good, good,” she said, tucking her phone away, message sent. “Now I think it’s time for you to eat your lunch and tell me all about that lovely dream you were having.”

Anna blinked. “How do you know it was lovely?”

“So it was. Good to know.” Rochel grinned. “I was just guessing because of how peaceful you looked for once.”

“Pssh. It’s none of your business.” Anna tucked into her lunch, glaring at her friend as they ate. “Make sure you bring snacks for tonight, OK? We’ll make it a movie night. Chocolate, popcorn, and the like.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“I’m hardly your boss,” Anna said, glancing at the wall of work she still needed to complete before the weekend. “If I was, I’d be telling you to get back to work already.”

“Slave driver.”

Anna blinked, pain spiking through her head at the memory of the golden-haired man, a voice whispering on the breeze as it whistled through the office.

“Remember.”

Chapter Text

“Remember.”

The word haunted her, but what was she supposed to remember? She was just an everyday twenty-nine year old who’d probably be having a midlife crisis at some point soon. There wasn’t anything weird or mysterious about her. She just was. There was no fancy job for her. No weird happenings with strange handsome men like in all those wonderful romance stories. She lived in the real world, her head safely out of the clouds. It was her reality, and she couldn’t afford for her weird dreams to seep into that.

She was probably just tired and hallucinating the entire business. Heaven knew she’d been ill enough to do just that. Yawning, she peered at the time, quietly setting an alarm for a little ways before five. Her guests were due then, but it was only three o’clock, so she had time for a short nap. She definitely deserved it after all that. “I don’t need to remember anything,” she muttered, flopping down on one of her comfy sofas, alarm set on her phone as she closed her eyes and drifted back off to dreamland.

Sunlight peeked through the clouds, glimmering against the white marble which made up most of the city. It was a bright day, laughter reaching her ears as she leant out of her open window, looking out across the city with a small sigh. Garlands decorated the streets, little flags of white and gold fluttering in the breeze, the gentle flapping noise oddly relaxing as she stood there, enjoying her little bit of peace while it lasted – which wasn’t all that long. A small stone slammed into her forehead, drawing a wince and a growl of annoyance from her. She slammed her hands down on the sill, her glare only darkening when she saw who’d thrown the stone. He enjoyed flicking her there, right in the middle of her slightly large forehead, whether it be with his finger or a stone. She rubbed at the sore spot, scowling down at the esteemed lord trying to get her attention.

“What in the Halls do you require at this hour?” she grumbled, glaring at him all the more intently, not that he was fazed by it. Somehow she doubted she was as scary as a balrog, and he had seen one and survived.

“Are you forgetting about your archery practice with yours truly?” he called, a wide smile on his face. “Your father remarked about your lack of skill, and I can hardly leave that be. The bow and the sword are our lifeblood.”

“I will stab you with that lifeblood one day,” she grumbled, slamming her window shut, stomping downstairs, waving to her parents as she hurried out to join the rest of her company. No doubt they had heard him calling up to her as sharp eared as they were.

He smiled as she came out of the door – the annoying pretty boy – his grin turning wry as he opened his mouth yet again. “What was that?” he asked. “I am afraid I could not quite catch what you said… something about stabbing me?” He grinned mirthfully. “The day you manage that will be the day I declare you my successor.”

She scowled. “Just you wait,” she grumbled. “I will stick you with the pointy end soon enough.”

“Good grief, is that the only thing you know about swordplay?” he asked, voice mocking as she stomped after him. She was anything but the stereotypical image of an elleth. Not the way men imagined them. She certainly had the inhuman grace and beauty, but her words were anything but particularly fair, and she had neither the wisdom nor the patience of most of her kin had already attained at a similar age. “Come, stubborn little elleth. Let me impart my wisdom to you,” he said, smiling sunnily.

She swore it was that smile which had captivated the hearts of the Gondolindrim. They loved him, apparently blissfully unaware about how much of a perfectionist and training enthusiast he was. He near enough ran his household into the ground with training drills, always drilling techniques and sparring practice into them, despite the relative peace of their city. She was one of his favourite targets, probably because of how young she was. There was a reason he kept calling her little. She scowled, hating that word, especially when it was applied to her. It irritated her, and him saying it made those comments about her height and age sting more than ever. She wanted his respect, just like she wanted everyone else’s respect, but his in particular, not that she’d ever admit it. It would only make him tease her that much more.

Flipping her silvery hair over her shoulder, she stalked towards the training ground, uncaring as her hair smacked him in the face. It was the only way she could really retort to that, and as her esteemed lord knew – she loved to have the last word… or action, in this case… though there’d undoubtedly be revenge in the form of more tedious drills and sparring with the elf himself.

And with her he always wore the kiddie gloves. The thought made her scowl even harder. Sometimes she hated being the youngest, as well as being one of the few female warriors in the House of the Golden Flower. It did nothing to help them see her as a fully-fledged elleth capable of holding her own. No matter what she tried to do, things never seemed to change, so she figured the only thing to do would be to wait it out. Wait for that moment where she got to be the one to save and kick their rumps into shape. Her moment would come, she knew it deep down… and after that they wouldn’t be able to look down on her anymore.

Smiling slightly, she strode into the training grounds, hurrying to the armoury and then to the spare room to change. What would be the point in practicing if not in full dress? Admittedly, hers wasn’t as bulky as the other’s. It was a consequence of her being small and having tiny hands. Her armour had to be made to measure. The only elf it would ever fit would be herself. She was a weird size, not that it’d ever gotten her any benefits – aside from nobody being able to borrow her armour only to ruin it. The crest of the House of the Golden Flower was emblazoned across the chest piece in a brighter golden metal than the base, the strip of fabric visible underneath the skirts also bearing golden stitching of the same design. There was no mistaking which household they belonged to, especially not in the city when the sunlight sparkled off the golden metal.

“If you have stopped admiring yourself in the mirror,” he said, popping his head around the door, “then may we begin?”

She threw one armoured gauntlet at him. “I am dressing myself in here!” she hissed, watching as he retreated hastily, having noticed her half-dressed state. “And I do not admire myself in the mirror! You are the narcissist here!”

Well, she had never quite managed to catch him staring at himself in a reflective surface, but with those golden locks… She sighed, running a hand through her knotted mane of silvery hair. It made for quite the contrast against her golden armour, and apparently seemed to glow whenever the light hit her from behind.

Blinking, she pulled herself away from the mirror. What the hell was going on? She wasn’t a narcissist, and she didn’t need to look at her messy appearance again. It’d only become that much worse after training with their resident slave driver.

Static rushed through her head, the name yelled distorted and unable to be heard as he yelled at her to hurry it up.

Music blared, slicing through the dream like a knife, and Anna blinked slowly, staring up at her nice white ceiling form the sofa where she lay. Yawning, she plucked her phone off the coffee table, switching the alarm off as she pulled herself to her feet. The girls would be over soon. She needed to get ready. Choosing clothes was simple enough. They were having a girls night, so she didn’t need to wear anything too fancy. She wasn’t being dragged out of tent, so she could go for something more comfortable to wear than those skimpy dresses her friends kept forcing on her.

Groaning, she rubbed her head, trying to shake off the last of her dream. It was confusing. She’d dreamt of the place a lot as of late, that same golden-haired elf featuring in it every single time. Was her brain trying to tell her she needed to get out more? Because that’d be rather insulting. She was perfectly content with her current life.

A bang on the door had her moving, yanking her out of her muddle of thoughts as she went to answer the door. Unsurprisingly, Rochel stared at her from the doorway, nudging past her in the blink of an eye.

“Shannon and Mira are on their way. I think they might’ve hit a bit of traffic though, but I suppose that gives us more time to prepare…” Rochel mumbled, plonking down the large carrier bag she’d brought on the kitchen counter. “I got us pizza and doughballs. That OK with you? You’re eating it either way though.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Good thing I like them then.”

“Yes, very good,” Rochel said, slapping her on the back as she went off to use the bathroom to freshen up before her other guests arrived.

Smiling slightly, she went over to the bag of goodies her friend had brought over. As promised, there were plenty of snacks, a bag of popcorn and chocolate on top of their dinner. “I suppose this’ll do,” she said.

“Of course it will,” Rochel said witheringly, hands on hips. “It was me who got it – of course the snacks are going to be good.”

“Sure, sure,” she muttered, picking her phone up from the table where she’d left it. “Wanna pick a movie out now, or do you want to wait until the others get here?”

“Ugh. Let me guess… no horror movies.”

“Correct,” Anna said with a grin. “You know me so well.”

“Weakling.”

“Says the one who puts five gallons of milk in her coffee,” Anna quipped. “Now that’s true weakness.”

“I don’t get what you don’t like about blood and gore,” Rochel said, making her way over to the sofa, flopping down on the large cushions, snuggling her face into the throw over it. “It’s not even real, and it’s so fake half the time you can tell.”

Anna shivered. “Oh yes, because seeing someone with their intestines half-hanging out is the epitome of cool,” she muttered, wincing as pain slammed through her brain yet again. “Gore makes my head hurt,” she said, hurrying over to the kitchen, fishing out the pain relief from her medicine cabinet. “So unless you wanna spoil the night, pick a nice movie with zero bloody scenes in it.”

“Fine, fine…” Rochel grumbled, tucking away all the bloody movies she’d brought, perusing through her shelves of romance and comedy instead. “We can have a vote when the other two get here… or we can just watch two movies.”

“Ugh. Don’t expect me to stick around for the second movie then,” she said, grimacing as she swallowed the pills with a large gulp of water.

“This is your house.” Rochel folded her arms. “Come on. Just watch one with me? I did go and see that sappy film with you a few months back, and that was like pulling teeth. It’s the least you can do.”

“I make no promises,” Anna muttered. “Now where the hell are Shannon and Mira?” She went and sat down on the sofa next to her friend. “They better be coming.”

“Of course they are.” Rochel snorted. “And you call me a worrywart? Pot kettle black.”

“Oh har har,” she said. “If I’m a worrywart, then you’re a mother hen. Cluck, cluck, cluck,” she muttered, her voice as dry as the Sahara Desert.

“Don’t you make those clucking sounds at me, young lady,” Rochel said, swatting her nose with a roll of newspaper.

“Young?” One eyebrow rose. “Really I’d say I’m near enough middle-aged, and you’re positively ancient.”

Rochel turned to her, lips pressed together. “I’m going to murder you tonight.”

The bell rang at that exact moment, and Anna shrugged. “Too bad you’ll have witnesses.”

Chapter Text

Bells rang in the white city, their footsteps silent as she and a couple of others of their household accompanied their lord to the grand palace in front of them. They’d passed across the pavilion of fountains, sunlight sparkling off the crystal clear water as it sprayed up in the air. A fine sheen of light mist had already covered her, her hair slightly damp. Goldilocks was fine though, and that irritated the living daylights out of her. Why did he have to be so annoyingly good at everything he did? It was driving her up the wall. Couldn’t he fail at something?

As if sensing her thoughts, he turned, smiling brightly at her. Was he trying to seduce her or something, just like he’d seduced half the city with his golden locks and bright grin? She shuddered, scowling all the wider at his irritatingly cheerful expression. She wasn’t falling for those annoying smiles. She knew him better than most of the Gondolindrim, thanks to him being her sole sparring partner throughout her training, and you learnt a lot about someone through their swordsmanship. He probably trained her thinking she’d drop out under the harshness of each of his lessons. She smiled smugly. As if. She’d be a warrior. A good one too.

“Now, you all know the drill, so please do try to stick to the correct etiquette—” static sounded in place of her name “—I am looking at you here. Please try to refrain from opening your mouth at all possible costs.”

“Rude,” she muttered, folding her arms in a huff. “I can be polite.”

Snorts sounded, and shockingly enough they didn’t come from the golden-haired ellon in front of her. They came from the other members of the House of the Golden Flower, all of them sniggering at her words.

“What are all of you laughing at?” she barked, hands curling into fists, and a hand patted down on her head, musing her hair even more.

He chuckled, ruffling her hair like a child. The thought made her rage simmer, irritation cracking through her expression. “You have a reputation, reckless idiot.” He tapped her lips. “You have a habit of opening these without thinking, and today that will not be tolerated as much.”

“I can be quiet,” she muttered, face reddening under all the stares directed her way. It didn’t help that she looked small compared to all of them, the top of her head just barely reaching their chest-height. “I will be quiet,” she corrected, her voice small as she hunched into herself at all the attention. She was fine at having his and only his attention directed towards her – it helped with her training – but having everyone staring at her? It was uncomfortable to say the least, and she sorely wished she could hide. But she was a strong warrior, and strong warriors didn’t hide.

“Well, with that said,” he spoke, opening the doors. “You all know what to do,” he said, winking at her as they travelled their twenty paces down the hall, coming to a stop and kneeling. They were one of the later groups to arrive, many of the other Houses of the Gondolindrim already present and kneeling in orderly rows. Their lord continued on, walking closer to the throne as they waited patiently at the back of the hall for the meeting of sorts to begin.

She waited there quietly, second from the back in their little line and for a while it was peaceful. It was fairly obvious which households each line belonged to from their armour and gear. Silver was the armour of the House of the Fountain, their shields and longswords left behind, red and black accents were the House of the Hammer of Wrath, though they had yet to arrive. It was to their left that knelt the House of the Fountain, and there was where she found a problem to test her self-control.

“Manwë’s breath, how did a little elfling slip in?”

Her eyebrow twitched, feeling the eyes on her annoyingly small body. Patience and calmness were key. She could survive a few quips about her height, because that’s what an elleth her age would do.

“Does Lord”—static sounded yet again—“really allow them to join up that young?”

Sighing, she turned to face them. “I am over three hundred, now please cease with your chattering. We are within the Halls of the King,” she said, resuming her silent kneeling second later, hoping that’d be the end of things.

It wasn’t.

“There is no possibility about you being over the age of three hundred. You are in your late thirties at most,” the same voice sounded, and her face twitched. Hold it in. Hold it in, she reminded herself. She was there representing the House of the Golden Flower. She was representing her parents and herself. She couldn’t afford to lose her cool right then and there. “Your arms look like sticks—”

Her arm lashed out almost instantly, irritation twisting her expression into something ghastly as her fist slammed into his side. She was only intent on showing him she was strong enough even with arms like sticks, and a powerful punch should’ve done that. It should not have sent him careening on unsteady feet to a distance halfway across the hall with a loud clatter.

The silence that fell all of a sudden was deafening, and she wanted to curl up into a ball and vanish.

“You have really done it this time,” the ellon in front of her muttered, shaking his head slightly along with the rest of the representatives of the House of the Golden Flower.

“How was I supposed to know he could not recover from such a light tap?” she hissed, blinking as the ground vanished from under her feet. Her legs dangled in the air, the firm grip on the collar of her armour making her freeze as she finally registered the presence that had managed to creep up behind her.

His hair was red, an unusual colour amongst the Gondolindrim, armour laced with red and black accents on the silvery metal, the cloak over one shoulder, held in place with a large red pin embossed with a black hammer and anvil. House of the Hammer of Wrath. Coincidentally, their leader just so happened to have red hair… and also happened to be one of the strongest elves in the city who could probably pick up her miniature self with ease. She was doomed. Totally doomed. Static sounded as he yelled her lord’s name, and she flinched, feeling the eyes of everyone in the forefront of the hall snap to where she was. “I am borrowing this one!”

“Eh?” She blinked, hanging there limply as she was carried out. Something deep inside her told her it was pointless to fight… plus she was getting away from the awkwardness of the hall and all the eyes she could feel boring into her, even if she was being carried off like some mischievous puppy.

“Rog!” Footsteps clattered, his voice sounding as she was spirited away. “Rog, get back here!” he yelled, chasing after them, leaving the other lords and the king behind. “You cannot steal members of my household!”

Laughter bubbled from the one holding her.

“Uncle…” the voice came from further inside the hall, her ears twitching as she just about caught wind of the words. “Why do you let those two do as they please?”

“They are loved dearly by the Gondolindrim because of their dispositions, Maeglin,” another spoke. “It is of no consequence. Besides, we have managed to cover all that we needed to. Let them go—”

“Wake up, Anna!”

Anna blinked, confusion at her own name. Anna. It sounded strange compared to the static of her dreams in place of the name everyone called her there. “What is it?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she checked the time. She’d been asleep for roughly an hour, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. not with the strange dream she’d had. “Ugh. Couldn’t you have let me sleep?”

Rochel rolled her eyes. “We’re at the best part of the movie!”

Glancing over at the screen, she reminded herself why she’d wanted to sleep. Rochel had put on the damned horror movie, and of course she couldn’t just let her sleep through it. Hands were sticking out from under the wreckages of buildings, blood pooling on the flagstone, all of it graphic enough to make her stomach roll.

“Rochel,” Mira hissed. “She doesn’t have to watch it if she doesn’t want to!”

“But look at the sucker,” she said, sniggering. “He’s getting burnt alive. Come on, Anna. It’s not real, and you can so tell.”

“Rochel,” Shannon spoke, pinching the bridge of her nose. “For someone who constantly worries about all of us, you’re really quite dim.”

“Hey! Take that back!”

Shannon growled, eyeing her paling face. “Horror movies aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, OK? So stop trying to force Anna to watch them.”

“But how will she get used to them if she doesn’t watch them?”

Mira scowled. “She doesn’t need to get used to them,” she said. “If you want to watch horror movies, invite one of us. You know Anna can get sick from these, and she’s ill enough as it is.”

“Thank you,” Anna mumbled, oddly transfixed by the flames on the screen before her stomach rolled. She could smell it in the air. The scent of burnt flesh, the acrid taste of coppery blood on her tongue. “Now I’m going to the bathroom.”

Mira’s eyes narrowed, her brown-eyed gaze concerned. “You feeling OK?”

“No, I think I’m going to be sick,” she grumbled, hurrying for the bathroom, wincing at how hot places on her skin felt as she headed straight for the toilet, emptying her guts, wincing at the pain flickering all over her body.

“Here.” Rochel stood next to her as she pulled away from the toilet bowl. “Drink,” she said, holding out the glass of water. “Your mouth probably tastes awful.”

“And whose fault is that?” One eyebrow arched, and Anna took a large sip. Her mouth did indeed taste horrible.

Rochel smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you, just don’t do it again… I don’t like fire, and I don’t like blood… I also don’t like seeing people being crushed… or shot with black arrows…”

Her friend blinked. “Nobody in the film was shot with arrows, Anna. Is that another random dislike of yours? You feeling OK?” Her hand patted at her shoulder, sweeping her mercifully clean hair back over her shoulder as she sat back.

The other eyebrow rose to join the one in her hairline. “Hmm…” She looked at the toilet bowl pointedly. “Let me think…”

“Oh.” Rochel slammed a hand to her forehead. “Stupid question.”

“Duh.”

“We good?”

Anna nodded. “We’re good.”

“Wanna watch one of those sappy movies you love for reasons unknown to me?” Rochel asked, tilting her head. “Shannon and Mira have already chewed me out.”

“With good reason,” she said. “Yes to the movie. We got any snacks left?” she asked, flushing the toilet as best she could, spraying the air freshener to get rid of the horrible stench. It only made her feel that much worse, even if she was feeling a lot better after hurling back up most of her dinner.

“Plenty. I brought extras just in case… whatdya want? There’s garlic bread and chips, though we’d need to cook them… or there’s chocolate and crisps…”

“The first option sounds better,” Anna said, not wanting to risk anything too sweet. Not after seeing how unsettled her stomach was. She probably should’ve had a better reaction to horror movies – or at least one not as severe, but there weren’t any small mercies for her. Not with her health and the like. Rochel called in karma for both her apparently healthy last life, and her ungodly luck in her current one.

“Thought so.” She stuck her head out of the bathroom. “Girls! Chuck the oven on! Anna wants garlic bread and chips.”

“Twenty years later and she still calls us girls…” Shannon mumbled, smiling at Anna as she came out of the bathroom with a bright grin. “You two sorted everything out?”

“Yep.” Anna nodded slowly. “But I’m gonna sit down for a bit. You OK with cooking?”

“Ann, I’ve survived ten years on my lonesome, so yes. I’ll be fine with the cooking, so sit your toosh down on the seat and make that idiot put on a nice cheery movie for you.”

“I’m not an idiot!” Rochel complained.

“Current evidence suggests otherwise,” Shannon said airily. “So until such a time as there’s evidence otherwise, an idiot you’ll be.”

“Pff.” Rochel sunk onto the sofa with a huff.

Anna sniggered, an odd nostalgia overcoming her as she sat on the sofa next to her friend, the voice floating through her mind laced with a strange fondness she couldn’t quite place.

“Reckless idiot.”

Chapter Text

Rochel, the hypocrite, snored.

Anna scowled, flumping her pillow over the top of her own head, covering her ear as best she could – the other pressed into the second pillow beneath her as she tried to block out the irritating sound. Not to mention Rochel had been the one complaining about other people snoring. Damned hypocrite. Her shoulders slumped, eyes closing as best she could, trying to tune out the soft snuffles she could hear in the background. She never should have agreed to the sleepover. They were in their twenties and thirties and were probably far too old to be having one. Not that Anna really cared about the opinions of the general populace.

Yawning, she snuggled down into her pillows, her blankets wrapped around her, keeping her almost too warm. She’d never liked the heat, much preferring the cool, and Anna was fairly sure it had something to do with her significant dislike of fire, one of the main sources of warmth. Burns too, her mind added snidely.

“Stupid idiot,” she muttered, glaring at the form sprawled out on the mattress on the floor, ignoring the way her heart sped up. Those words sounded so much like the ones in her dream… but she was a reckless idiot, not a stupid one. Humming quietly under her breath, Anna shut her eyes, vaguely recognising the eerie sounds she was making.

The same ones from her dream.

It seemed she really was rather creative, she mused, rolling over as sleep came calling, and Anna tumbled into the world of white marble and golden warriors.

She blinked owlishly, staring at the red-haired warrior sitting opposite her in the workshop they now sat in. Where the Lord of her own household had gotten to, she wasn’t quite sure. Lord Rog had lost him in the city at some point – but her own Lord wasn’t all that thick, no matter how badly she wished he was, so there were no doubts he’d be storming the place soon enough. Golden hair, looks, intelligence… the annoyance had it all. Her hands traced over the flat of the elvish blade, its sheath on the bench next to her as she appreciated the quality of its workmanship. It was a fine blade, and a ridiculously strong one – though there was a problem with it, according to the other elves. The weight was far greater than any other blade she’d picked up in the very workshop she was in. Odd, she thought, considering it still weighed less than her usual training sword. Her parents hadn’t allowed her to obtain a real blade as of yet. If there was ever a time she needed one though, she’d be supplied one from the stores of the House of the Golden Flower. It wouldn’t be her sword, but it’d pull her through… just until she got her parents to get her a nice blade. Her shoulders sunk. She was old enough by now, and yet people always insisted on treating her like some misbehaving child. It wasn’t her fault her height confused people.

“Did you make this?” she asked, eventually, lifting it effortlessly, admiring the silvery gold sheen to the metal.

“That I did, but no one can really use it in a fight… well, aside from me generally,” Rog said, reaching over to take the blade from her hands. “The usual way to tell if a blade has been crafted by me is to check the hilt.” He tapped on said hilt, and she stared at it curiously, noting the small deep red gemstone embedded in the pommel. “Though I may not have the skill of the dwarves when it comes to gems and metalwork, I can do at least this much.”

She snatched the blade back deftly, uncaring at the eyes she could feel boring into her, glancing between the red gemstone and the shade of Rog’s hair. It was enough of an indicator that it was his signature on all the blades he forged.

“Red is rarely used when adding colour of some description to elvish blades… that’s usually reserved for the enemies blades, but this is my little mark,” Rog mumbled, his eyes taking on an oddly distant look. “It’s not that desirable of a hair colour, no matter how exotic it looks…”

“The colour of blood,” she mumbled, eyeing his rusty crimson locks.

“Precisely,” Rog said, sweeping his hair back out of his pale blue eyes.

“But if you lose too much blood, then you die… so is blood not somewhat symbolic of life?” she mumbled, staring over at the small window letting light in. The breeze swept through the room gently, picking up her hair, battering it about a bit as she smiled in the afternoon light. “It is a beautiful colour…”

Rog stared at her flatly, confusion lining his expression along with a hint of realisation, just as the sound of stomping feet reached them where they stood. “Do you usually say things like this around your fool of a lord?” he asked, and she blinked blandly.

“I guess?” she said, shrugging.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I suppose it is hardly a wonder you seduced him so easily then…” he muttered, just as a golden-haired elf stormed into the room and her mind went blank, a single question ringing in her brain. Who the hell seduced who?

“Rog,” he panted, catching his breath – no doubt having just run all around the city in his search. Privately, she wondered what had become of the rest of the House of the Golden Flower. Were they still waiting in the hall? Or had they gone back ready for the wonders of afternoon training?

Static sounded in place of his name as Rog returned the greeting.

“Don’t kidnap members of my household!” He folded his arms, pouting as the ever so slightly taller ellon rose to his feet. “You are supposed to go through the required channels if you wish to arrange a sparring practice… or whatever the Halls this was.” He peered around the room. “What even was this, anyway?”

Rog clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing much. I just needed a hand with some heavy lifting.”

“The majority of your household is made up of ridiculously strong elves…” One golden brow rose. “You wish to attempt that again?”

“Not particularly.” Rog grinned, chuckling lowly as he moved towards the door. “Oh, and Lady”—static sounded in place of her name that time—“the sword is yours from now on. Use it well… you certainly have the strength to.”

“You are giving her one of your prized blades?”

“She is one of the few who can probably wield that blade with ease,” he said, smiling innocently. “It is just a little gift for her to remember me by.”

“Why would she want to remember you?” he grumbled.

Rog laughed, a rich, deep sound, armour clanking as he patted her lord’s shoulder yet again. “I would move quickly if I were you, old friend… otherwise you might just have some competition. She has a tongue of silver, that one.”

“What are you two going on about?” She stood, hands on hips as she glared between them. The redhead had accused her of seducing someone, and blondie was her everyday annoyance. She didn’t particularly want to linger. Especially not if it made the idiot hold her behind after dismissing everybody else like the irritating perfectionist he was.

“Nothing,” he muttered, cheeks reddening as Rog walked off, muttering something about ‘dense ellith and stubborn idiots’.

She scowled. He’d better not be calling her dense. She was as non-dense as they came. “So what now, my lord?” she asked, blinking as she was summarily thrown over his shoulder and carried away from the stronghold of the House of the Hammer of Wrath. “I can walk you know,” she muttered, all too aware about the fact her complaints would be ignored. She couldn’t even stab him with her wonderful new blade, either – it being tucked under his other arm, sheath and all. She sighed deeply, shoulders sinking as she stopped with the pointless arguments, instead kicking him and his armour every now and then. She was allowed to be as petty as she wanted to. Eyes were on them, staring at her predicament. Though she wasn’t too sure why. He’d carried her over his shoulder far too much. It should’ve been a common enough sight, but people still had to stare for reasons unknown to her. Scowling, she settled for admiring the way the light reflected off the gemstone embedded in the hilt of her sword.

Red really was a pretty colour.

Golden locks flew into her vision, the wind batting strands into her mouth, as if to prove her wrong. Gold was damned well pretty too, not that she’d ever admit it out loud. Coughing, she pulled the silky strands from her mouth, her scowl only deepening as his hair kept flicking her in the face. She hated his hair with a burning passion, and no it didn’t matter how pretty it looked when the sun sparkled off it. “Stupid hair,” she muttered, turning her face away from the onslaught. She’d hack it off no matter the customs of her race if it kept irritating her.

“Ai, so you rescued our little elfling from the Hammer of Wrath, my lord?”

She was set back down on her feet, the familiar pavilion they trained on greeting her sight as she freed her newly gifted sword from its artistically designed sheath. “Right, which one of you said that?” she hissed, brandishing her wonderfully sharp blade. “Because I have just received a new sword, and I am dying to test it out on somebody…”

Fingers curled under her collar, a familiar bell-like laugh ringing out. It was his laugh, and it was definitely not a nice sound. Not in the slightest. “I think you need to warm up first, reckless idiot…” His smile was devilishly handsome, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his smug face in that instant. It wasn’t fair. “Then I shall happily take up that challenge.”

Her shoulders sunk. “Ugh.”

Why did it always have to be him?

She went home battered and bruised, obviously, no closer to putting a scratch on his annoyingly perfect face. “I’m home,” she muttered, yawning as she swiped some bread off the table, munching on it as she made her way up to her room. Her parents were no doubt already resting. Her irritating lord had made her stay behind thanks to the precious time she’d missed out on with her little excursion to visit the House of the Hammer of Wrath.

All she wanted to do was jump on her bed and rest. There was nothing else she needed to do, and her muscles were aching. A good rest would help solve that before morning training came around. She really wished she could scratch his irritatingly pretty face. Moonlight glinted through her window, and the flicker of light caught on something placed on her pillow. Confused, she went over, gingerly picking up the necklace that’d been placed there. What was a thing like that doing there? Not that it wasn’t pretty… but her parents didn’t buy her things like that anymore. They hadn’t. Not since she was a little elfling… well, a littler elfling, because apparently people still thought she was one.

Sighing quietly, she eyed the piece of jewellery. It was pretty, even if the main gemstone had an annoyingly golden tint to it. There was a mix of gold and silvery shades, and she found she quite liked it, no matter how it’d gotten there.

Not to mention it looked sturdy enough that she’d be able to wear it under her armour. She tilted her head, smiling slightly as she set the piece down on her bedside table. Maybe it could be her good luck charm.

Though she probably ought to find out where it’d come from first.

A loud thud sliced through her dreams, and Anna blearily opened her eyes. Her bladder was uncomfortably full from all the cola she’d drunk, so first on the agenda was going to the toilet. A glance at her alarm clock told her she’d been asleep for a scant two hours, and irritation pulsed through her as she stared down at Rochel. She was half off and half on the mattress, and undoubtedly the source of the sound which had woken her.

Scowling, Anna kicked at her legs as she walked by to get to the toilet. She was allowed to be petty, especially on two hours of sleep – though she’d definitely be getting more. Even if she had to duct tape Rochel’s mouth shut.

Rochel just lay there, snoring away, completely unfazed by her kick, the image of a similarly unflappable golden-haired ellon stirring in her hazy mind. She really needed to work on her kick.

“Ugh,” she grumbled, nearly blinded by the bathroom lights as she switched them on. “I hate my life.”

Chapter Text

Fortunately she didn’t have to crack out the duct tape to get some shut eye after her meagre two hours of sleep. Silently, Anna was grateful it was the weekend. She could sleep in longer and not worry about working or getting yelled at by her boss – not that it happened much. She was a model worker. Rochel was the one more likely to get yelled at for something stupid, not that she was ever close to being fired. Their boss loved her, even if she did have a knack for getting on people’s nerves on occasion.

Smiling softly, she buried her head under the pillow, tuning out the chainsaw snores with a surprising amount of ease compared to previous attempt, settling into her dreams. Ones she silently wished would stop. They unnerved her with the amount of detail crafted into them, and they told a story that made her heart pound… plus she could remember every single second of each dream in alarming amount of clarity.

It wasn’t normal, and Anna liked her normality.

The universe didn’t seem to want to listen to her, and neither did whatever deity resided up there, because the instant the snores vanished, she was back inside the city of white and gold—or not.

They were out on an errand. Out of the city. She swallowed, forcing back the bile threatening to creep up her throat. Why had she begged to come on this mission? Her shoulders slumped forwards. Oh, because her parents had brought up the idea of marriage yet again. Her hands curled into fists.

“You should’ve married years ago,” the words of her parents echoed in her head, shoulders lumping under their weight. “You know what happens to elves who don’t… they have strange fates.”

“I already have a strange fate.”

She bit her lip, forcing back the scowl. She wasn’t interested in marriage… not at the current moment in time. She wasn’t even interested in anybody in that way, of course not, and she was over three hundred years by now. Her strange fate was totally coming for her already. She was already weirdly strong as it was.

“You don’t have to fight, you don’t have to leave the city… you know what happened with Lady Aredhel… As a child you were always so fond of making dresses… why not pick that back up instead?”

They thought she wasn’t capable… The words burned her. Made anger boil under her skin, and her rage simmer. An anger and rage she shouldn’t have had. She wasn’t among the number of the Fëanorians. There’s was nothing she had to be irritated over. She was one of the Eldar, though she was most definitely an anomaly. Short tempered along with being annoyingly short in height, and not to mention her unnatural strength. A sigh escaped her lips. Unique. That was what her parents had said. She was unique… odd… Perhaps that was why she’d chosen the path of a warrior – one few ellith walked.

It wasn’t as if it were forbidden. The difference in both strength and speed between ellith and ellyn wasn’t the same as that of humans. There wasn’t any prejudice, there was just simply so many other careers that tempted them more than the thought of freedom and adventure.

Maybe that was why she’d never settled down with anyone. She folded her arms. She just liked to think she hadn’t found the right person yet.

Still, her musings were cut short, ears twitching as they caught the sounds of footsteps running. Running towards them. Metal armour clinking. Weapons being unsheathed. The enemy had found them despite the secrecy of their mission. They’d only been allowed out of the city because it had been absolutely necessary.

She only hoped they were attacking them because they were elves passing through, and not because they were of Gondolin. The enemy couldn’t learn about their city. It was shielded from their eyes, and no knowledge of its existence could fall into their hands. Her heart thudded in her chest, hands trembling ever so slightly as their Lord gave the order to draw their swords.

Their blood was black.

That was the main fact she’d learnt that day after facing off against the orcs. Well, that and they were vicious little buggers who’d managed to score a few scrapes and bruises on her. They’d made her look incompetent compared to the rest of her companions who’d escaped entirely unscathed. Her shoulders sunk, but she held her neck straight, even as their Lord walked towards her – her injuries having already been treated by the ellon next to her.

“This,” he said, sighing loudly as he wiped the orc blood from his blade, staring at her flatly. “This is why I did not wish to take you with me.” His shoulders slumped, his face suddenly seeming that much older as she glared up at him, demanding her answers. Who was he to think she wasn’t capable of holding her own? “Have you not wondered why your parents were so adamant on you becoming a lady rather than a warrior?” He stared at her levelly, unflinching in the face of her demanding stare. He’d probably seen much scarier looks on scarier faces. “There is a reason, I assure you, just as there is a reason I wished to leave you safely back in Gondolin.” His head shook, sword singing as he sheathed it once more. “One and the same reason, in fact.”

She folded her arms, unimpressed. “Pray do tell. What is that reason?”

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose at her standoffishness. “You have unusual luck, in case you haven’t guessed it. Your parents noticed it first – if there is even a slim chance of finding danger, then with you around, we may as well be lighting a beacon and summoning it over,” he said, and her mind went blank. “There was plenty of trouble around you when you were just a little elfling, in case you didn’t realise. You’re just lucky you were always around strong warriors, otherwise you might not have lived until this day. In fact, your parents probably arranged it so, and you should be very thankful to them because of it. Even with your ridiculous strength you still would’ve likely perished if not.”

She blinked. “What?” she hissed. “That makes no sense!”

“Give it a few more days, then come and talk with me,” he said, walking back to the front of the company, turning to address the rest of their company. “Everyone stay alert. We still have three days of travel until we reach our destination and it is very likely we will encounter other such groups.”

Her hands curled into fists. Why couldn’t anyone trust her for once? Dimly, she watched as the rest of the House of the Golden Flower began to move, her legs numbly carrying her forwards. She was walking in the middle of the formation. The safest place. Her lips twisted into a scowl. They were guarding her. She bit her lip. Because she was too damn well weak to do it herself. The thought burnt her, made her want to curl in on herself and hide away from the world. She’d begged to accompany them. She’d begged to be able to see the world outside their well-protected city… a world they weren’t meant to be allowed out into for a reason. They couldn’t afford to draw the enemy’s attention to them… and apparently she was the reason why enemies kept finding them.

Because of her unusual luck.

She was their bad luck charm. She barely resisted the urge to hit something, knowing there’d be no point. It’d just make her seem that much less in control of her emotions than an elleth should’ve been. Her feet plodded on with the eerie grace of the rest of her kin, but her mind was numb, anger rearing its ugly head deep inside her. He’d said she was strong for an elleth of her age… strong but not skilled. Tears bit at her eyes, but she refused to cry. Crying in front of everybody wouldn’t make them view her as strong. In fact, it’d likely have the opposite effect. So she swallowed her sobs, holding her head high as they continued their trek through the leafy green trees. Were she in a better mood, she might’ve found some joy and beauty in it, but her thoughts were far too dark and deep to allow any such amusement unlike the rest of the House of the Golden Flower.

Nothing subsided, even as they made their camp, a fire lit in the shelter they’d made. She was still angry. Still upset. The thought of being incapable of defending herself burnt. She wasn’t supposed to be weak.

Scowling, she hovered near the edge of their camp, sitting on the branches above the rest of the House of the Golden Flower as she brooded moodily. What was she supposed to do? How could she prove she could protect herself? How could she make it so she was less of a bad luck charm?

The tree branch creaked.

She closed her eyes, eyebrows twitching as she caught sight of that golden hair. “What do you want?” she grumbled.

“Stop segregating yourself from the group—”

“So they can protect me,” she spat, shuffling as far away from him as possible. “I don’t need any protection. If all this bad luck is my fault, then I can deal with it, so please just go back to the fire.”

He sighed quietly. “I do not mean it like that. You need to be present to listen to the information I’m telling everybody. Everyone is taking turns on the watch, lest we wish to be ambushed in the night. Seeing as you’re injured, you were given priority to rest, so—”

“I can take a damned watch,” she said, eyes flickering open to glare at him. “It was a couple of scratches, nothing more.”

“Stop trying to act tough—”

“I’m not acting!” Her hand slammed down on the roughened bark. “I am fine. Honestly, if it were any other than me who’d been injured you wouldn’t even be having this conversation with them.” Traitorous eyes filled with tears threatening to spill. “I just want to be trusted to hold my own,” she hissed, tears leaking down her face as she determinedly looked to the side, refusing to flinch at the gaze she could feel boring into her.

In hindsight, it was probably because she wasn’t looking that she found herself surprised by the gentle hug she was pulled into. “You are strong, but you need more experience. It’s why you were injured.”

“Then let me get some experience,” she muttered, feeling her traitorous cheeks flush bright red.

“One usually starts by facing easier and less experienced opponents, and these ones were neither. There’s no shame in accepting that face. The enemy was slightly too experienced for you this time around, and when that happens – if it happens again – it would be better for you to be on the defensive, instead of charging in recklessly as you did.”

A frown cracked at her face despite the burning warmth in her cheeks. “Can you let go of me already?” she asked, glaring at the forest in front of her, determined not to turn her face and look at him. She wasn’t enjoying this prolonged body contact in the slightest.

Not at all.

Chapter Text

A beaming smile met her sleep-crusted eyes as they flickered open. “What…” she muttered, glaring up at Rochel. “What the hell are you doing?” Anna sat up, rolling her oddly stiff shoulders, fighting against the blush rising in her cheeks. The dream had felt so real… Even then she could still feel the ghost of those warm arms wrapped around her, like her favourite blanket.

“You OK?” Rochel asked, her face perilously close. “Shannon and Mira are already cooking us breakfast. You looked really out of it… are you coming down with something? Again?”

Anna stared at her flatly. “The again was unnecessary.”

“But you always get sick,” she said, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. “Do you want to go to the doctors? Maybe it wasn’t just the movie that made you sick…”

“Ugh, mellon nîn, I’m fine,” she muttered, pushing her away. “There is no cause for concern, trouble yourself not. As I have said, I am well. You simply woke me at an inopportune time, that is all.”

“Uh.” Rochel blinked. “Did you whack your head on your bedframe or something in the night?” she asked, reaching over, ignoring Anna’s hands which swatted at her invasive touch as the older woman examined her head for any bumps or cuts. “You’re talking really weirdly. All posh and… old, yanno? Did you say you wanted melon? I don’t think we’ve got any, but I can always ask if Shannon can pop down to the little store nearby. Right, you don’t have a fever, I think… but you do feel a bit warm, and you look a bit pale—”

She scowled. “I’m fin—”

“—so you should probably stay in bed. I suppose we should be grateful it’s a holiday on Monday. Long weekends are the best. You won’t have to miss any work, luckily. Though I can cover for you on Tuesday if you’re still not feeling great. Isn’t that—”

Anna grabbed her by the shoulders. “Rochel, breathe, you utter fool,” she said, glaring into her concerned bright blue ones. Her dear friend was annoyingly earnest and didn’t know when to shut up for the life of her. “I am fine,” she grumbled, feeling oddly disgruntled. Likely from her dream. She’d said the same things there, but Rochel wasn’t that golden-haired elf. She sighed dreamily. That hug had been nice, not that she’d ever say that out loud. She chuckled mentally. Enjoying a hug in a dream? Rochel would just tell her she needed to get out more, and actually get hugged by a man who wasn’t imaginary. Man. A scoff sounded in her mind. That golden-haired figure in her dreams was no man. He was an elf… and she’d been a she-elf. She stretched her arms behind her and above. It was like something out of a fantasy novel.

“You don’t look well…”

Anna smiled wearily. “I will be fine, old friend, you need not worry.”

“When you say it like that it makes me even more worried… you don’t sound like yourself,” she said, brow furrowed in concern.

Anna blinked, rubbing at her head, groaning slightly at the pounding she felt there. It had barely been noticeable when she’d first woken, but it was slowly growing louder by the moment, and Rochel’s voice only made things that much worse. “Headache,” she muttered, rubbing at her temples.

“Knew it. You’re ill!”

Anna glared at her pointedly, rubbing her head.

“Oh…” she whispered. “Sorry… I’ll let you get back to bed…”

A smile cracked at her face, relief flooding through her when Rochel pulled the curtains closed, the pounding in her head lessening ever so slightly as she collapsed on the pillows, sinking back into her rather delightful dreams.

Pain lanced from the deep slice in her leg as she made her way through the forest. She’d messed up. Gone on the offensive when she wasn’t ready, and the blade she’d taken just below her knee was a testament to that. Still, she refused to slow down her company, and she refused to let them help. She was a warrior. She could walk it off… totally…

Golden hair flickered in front of her vision, and then he was in front of her – the last person she wanted to see at that moment in time.

“No,” she declared before he could even get a word out. She did not want to listen to him.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head softly. “Stubborn elleth,” he muttered, turning so his back was facing her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, scowling as he offered his back to her. His name left her lips again, the same buzzing filling her ears as she tried to recall the sound of his name. It had to be beautiful, just like him, not that she’d admit that.

“Get on,” he ordered, tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re injured, and we still have many leagues to travel on foot until we reach the horses.”

“I can walk!”

“No you can’t,” he said unflinchingly. “Now stop being a stubborn little balrog and get on.”

“I am not a balrog,” she hissed, glaring daggers into his back.

“I know. They are uglier, now hop on.” He hauled her onto his back, ignoring her protests, arms tucking themselves under her knees, careful not to brush against her injured calf. “We cannot delay for too long – we do not know who might be watching us, and we cannot afford to draw unwanted attention onto the city if we wish to return without a fuss.”

“Tch.” She buried her face in his golden hair, hiding the rising blush as best she could. Embarrassment happened far too often for her liking. She couldn’t even seem to handle a pack of orcs on her own, when everyone else in her squad seemed to be capable of at least holding their own. It was humiliating to say the least.

“Everyone makes mistakes you know,” he said, carrying her silently a little ways behind the rest of their group. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You are still fairly young.”

“To you, perhaps,” she muttered, wondering why that comment burned her insides and made her heart clench painfully. “Besides. I’m not embarrassed.”

“Oh really… so it’s not your face I can feel burning against my neck.”

Her cheeks flared up in a wonderful shade of red as she yanked herself away from his neck, looking determinedly straight ahead. “Shut up,” she grumbled.

He fell silent, seemingly complying with her request. For a few moments at least. Static covered the sound of her name on his lips as it always did. “Why do you throw yourself into these situations? We had it under control.”

“I do not need to be protected,” she grumbled, looking determinedly to the side. “I’m strong.”

He sighed, grey eyes glancing back at her. “There is a difference between being strong and being reckless, little idiot,” he mumbled softly. “You don’t need to throw yourself into every fight. Especially when it interferes with somebody else’s… Wait for the battle to come to you next time.”

Scowling, she hid her face in his golden locks. “Why am I the only one you call an idiot? Do you not have a better word?”

“Nay. You are a reckless idiot, and until you prove me otherwise,” he said, leaping seamlessly over the fallen trees and branches. “That is what you’ll be called.”

“Then at least don’t call me little,” she muttered.

“Ai. But you are little, reckless idiot,” he spoke, and she knew… she just knew he had that smug little smile in place on his annoyingly beautiful lips. “I don’t think I have ever had the pleasure of meeting an elleth as short as you. Elflings, yes, but they tend to grow out of that stage.”

She bristled. “I am not an elfling. I am a fully grown elleth, thank you very much.”

“You are still tiny though.”

She cried wordlessly, tightening her grip on him. “I hate you,” she grumbled, burying her face into his hair to hide her blushing red cheeks. His hair smelt nice too. That was unfair. She probably had anything but a pleasant odour at that point in their trek.

He didn’t reply, and her only response was snuggling further into him as she hid herself away from the eyes she could feel boring into her. Judging her as unworthy. Her own eyes glazed over, the sleep that came bringing a slight relief – at least until a sudden jostle awoke her, but she wasn’t being placed down. Rather she now found herself propped against his chest instead of his back, those stormy grey eyes staring down into her bluish ones with an intensity that made her choke on her saliva.

Blood rose in her cheeks. He was way too close, his annoyingly perfect face only inches away from her own as he carried her through the forest. How long she’d slept for, she knew not. Only that eventually her annoyance of a lord had shifted to carrying her like a princess rather than a fellow warrior. She’d been perfectly content with his back. She didn’t need to see the front as well.

A smile lit his lips, a chuckle bursting from them as she felt herself grow redder and redder in the strange unfamiliar yet not uncomfortable hold. He seemingly couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her, and she had to bite her lips as he opened that stupid mouth of his. “That is a lovely shade of red on you,” he purred, looking every inch the smug elf he was as she stared up at him from her new oddly enjoyable position.

She bristled in his arms, glaring up at him. “I will murder you in your sleep,” she hissed, face heating up that much further.

“But wouldn’t that involve coming into my bedroom, little one?” he chuckled as the realisation dawned on her. “I am afraid that would be very inappropriate for a lady of your standard without proper procedure.”

She scowled, face burning red, and then she decided to take her losses and vanish as best as she could. Though since vanishing was a bit hard in his arms, she relaxed her body. Sleep was the best course of action. She’d be able to think up better retorts with a fresher, more alert mind.

“You really are reckless,” he whispered, his gait smooth and sleep-inducing, his sigh quiet as she leant against his shoulder, eyes slowly starting to glaze over yet again. “I just dread the day somebody takes advantage of that—”

“LUNCHTIME!” a loud, obnoxiously familiar voice turned her dreams to smoke.

Her eyes flickered open into slits and she glared at the biggest idiot she’d ever had the displeasure of knowing. The idiot who’d interrupted that nice fluffy dream which made her feel warm and mushy inside. “I will cut you.”

“Eeek!” Rochel sprinted out the door like the absolute child she was inside. “Shannon! Anna’s got the scary face on!”

“Hush and let her rest,” Shannon grumbled. “Clearly we’re staying over a bit longer if she’s not feeling all that great.”

“Yeah,” Mira said, her voice crisp and clear. “I’d feel bad about leaving… especially after last night. Hopefully she’ll be alright for going out next weekend. We’ve been planning that for a while.”

Anna groaned, her head feeling oddly warm whilst the rest of her felt like hell frozen over. She needed to sleep again. Needed to visit that strange city of white and gold which always seemed to energise her whenever she looked upon it. Her face smooshed against the pillow, a puff of air escaping her lips as she shut her eyes again, longing for that white and gold city. She wanted it… needed it… it was her home.

But rather than the city or that golden-haired figure that haunted her, she found herself in darkness instead. Pure utter darkness. The floor was like inky water underneath her, but she stood on it without issue.

“What?” the musical sound echoed in the stillness, and she blinked, rubbing at her eyes as if she could dispel the strange illusion. But it was no mirage. The scene remained unchanged, and she remained completely and utterly lost as to what was going on. “Where am I?” She stumbled back. It felt just like her dreams – all to real… all to detailed, but something was fundamentally different… like she was in the driver’s seat rather than the passenger’s seat. “What is going on here?”

“Now that is a good question…”

She froze, head snapping around, closely followed by the rest of her body as she assessed the newcomer. He was tall, ridiculously so, even with her looking like the elleth she was in her dreams. “Who are you?” she asked, flinching as those bright grey eyes locked on her, studying her curiously.

“I have been looking for you for an awfully long time now—”

Static made her head buzz as if filled with a thousand bees, and she stumbled back under those unfathomably old eyes surveying her.

“It seems your mind still keeps it from you, but that is hardly surprising, given your pitiful state…”

Her eye twitched, mouth moving before she could even stop herself. “Who the hell are you calling pitiful, old man?” Not that he looked old, despite the chin length silvery hair, smooth and yet somehow spiky. His face was youthful, a sombre expression plastered across it, and yet there was a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“You, obviously,” he said, and she immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. Why was she acting like the girl from her dreams? She wasn’t as short tempered as that, especially around strangers.

Sighing, she pulled herself away from her murderous and contemplative thoughts, looking around at the eerie inky darkness surrounding them on all sides. “Can you help me?” she asked, silently wishing she could go back to those nice dreams about the golden-haired warrior.

“Not yet,” he said, smiling albeit sadly. “Only you can do that as it is now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She blinked and he was passing her, a hand on her shoulder. “It means it is time for you to wake up.”

The inky waters underneath her vanished, feet losing their footing and then she fell into darkness, and Anna woke with a start, heart pounding in her chest, that same word echoing in her brain as she lay there.

“Remember.”

Chapter Text

Everything was off kilter. Anna didn’t like it in the slightest, not when she woke to Rochel’s fretting and Shannon’s motherhenning. All her friends were terrible when it came to mothering tendencies. Anna was fairly sure she was the only one who’d escaped unscathed from those treacherous traits, which more often than not resulted in her being on the receiving end. Especially when she was ill. Especially when she started having weird dreams that made her want to throw up. It didn’t feel right. Her body felt heavier, and her skin too tight as she stumbled her way to the bathroom, ignoring her hovering friends as she shut herself in the toilet.

“Dinner will be ready soon!” Mira called, and she was fairly certain she heard the other two being herded back towards the kitchen of her reasonably sized reasonably priced apartment. “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t,” she mumbled, freezing as she looked up in the mirror.

Bluish grey eyes stared back, so alien, and yet so familiar, straight silver locks framing the face that looked back at her from the mirror. Anna shrieked, stumbling back, confusion and terror being replaced by annoyance as she tumbled back into the bathtub. Wetness seeped into her clothing and she blinked in confusion yet again. The bathtub hadn’t been used recently. Yanking her sleeve back, she went dead still for a heartbeat, head snapping to the side when she spotted the dark red stain marring her pale clothes and skin. “What the fuck?” she breathed, staring at the blood lining the bath. “This isn’t real… it’s not real…” she murmured, screwing her eyes shut. “Calm down, Anna… When you open your eyes everything will be back to normal.” Her eyes flickered open, her face turning as white as a sheet as she noted the deepening puddle of blood her arm was lying in. It bubbled up, the colour reminding her of those burning red eyes.

“Anna?” Rochel’s voice sliced through it all, and Anna was left staring at her empty, dry bathtub in confusion. “Anna, you OK in there?”

She stumbled to her feet, staring at her dark-haired, dark-eyed reflection in the mirror. “Yeah… just a spider,” she said dazedly. “It scared me.”

“Open the door,” Rochel ordered, and she followed it blindly, revealing her trusty friend wielding a large boot. “Point me at ‘em. No spider is touching my friends whilst I’m about.”

“It ugh…” She made a show of looking around the room. “It scuttled off when I fell in the bathtub. Guess I must’ve scared it off,” she said, smiling tentatively. “Seems I got you worked up for nothing,” she said, wandering out of the room, not wanting to stay inside it a single second longer. “Is dinner ready yet?”

“Yep.” Rochel grinned. “Mira just sent me to grab you and your sorry backside and get them to the table,” she said. “Come on. Shannon and Mira made dinner just for you. The least we could do after yesterday night.” She shrugged, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “I think there’ll definitely be leftovers for the next few days if you don’t feel like cooking.”

“Have I ever said how much I love those two,” Anna mumbled, sighing as she smelt the food, her stomach rumbling as they hurried to their seats at the table.

Rochel pouted. “What about me?”

“Sure, I love you too…” Anna said, grinning widely as she turned to her idiot friend. “Well, most of the time.”

“Rude.”

Anna smirked, grabbing her cutlery before she dug into her dinner with gusto. It was nice eating with other people, especially when they cooked for her, but like all good things, it eventually came to an end. Her friends had homes of their own, as well as other people to look after. They’d be seeing each other next weekend, anyway, when they came to drag her out on one of their twice-yearly outings. They always encouraged her to venture out of her comfort zone and socialise once or twice a year. Somehow she doubted she’d be let off entirely, even if she was ill. Rochel would be annoyingly persistent, but that was part of the reason they were such great friends.

Yawning, she headed off to her bedroom, having loaded the dishwasher, quietly sighing as she flicked through her wardrobe. Silently she eyed the scant number of dresses she owned. It was vastly different to the number of dresses she’d owned in her dreams, then again, most of the people in her dreams seemed to wear flowy robes or dresses on occasion no matter their gender. A smirk pulled at her lips. Goldilocks could certainly pull off the look. He could pull off any look. She sighed. Shame he wasn’t real. She was fairly certain her dream counterpart was in love with him, even if she was horrible at denying that fact. Chuckling to herself, she pulled out her pyjamas, yanking them on, brushing her teeth – careful to avoid looking into any mirrors – before she tucked herself into bed.

She didn’t want to dream of that place again, no matter how her heart beat in excitement whenever she saw those marble white spires. The dreams were unnatural, and they were beginning to creep into the daytime too. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t allowed to. Normalcy was what she clung to in her illness. She wasn’t supposed to feel disjointed and disconnected. She wasn’t supposed to feel like she didn’t belong. She did belong – there with her friends laughing around her. There wasn’t supposed to be words echoing in her brain, whispered softly to her as she found herself on the verge of sleep. She could always hear it, along with the constant chant of remember which cycled through her mind. The words whispered in that sweet melodic voice that made her feel safe and oddly whole, “Meleth nîn…”

Groaning quietly, she shut her eyes, shoulders braced as she tried to get comfy. “Please don’t let it happen again…” she murmured, voice heavy with sleep. “I do not wish to dream of Gondolin again…”

Anna blinked, the fuzziness in her head only growing, eyebrows knotting as she tried to remember that name. Did her brain also come up with that weird name for her dream world? It sounded so pretty, even as the name blurred itself out of her memory and she found herself plummeting back into that world of elves and a white city.

“It will be good practice for you all,” he informed them, golden hair fluttering in the gentle breeze as they entered the vaguely familiar training grounds. The ones which belonged to the House of the Fountain. They were similar to their own, with an archery range set up next to the sparring grounds. The standard setup across the city. “If all we do is spar one another we will become complacent in no time.”

Her shoulders sunk as she eyed up the line of silver-armoured warriors opposite them, all of them greeting the other group politely. It paid to be polite to the people potentially about to beat oneself up. Everyone was taller than her, of course, and her idiot of a lord wasn’t going to come over and help her anytime soon. He’d already been pulled to the side by Lord Ecthelion of the House of the Fountain and challenged to a spar. One they did weekly, if the rumours were anything to go off. Their blade work was nothing like her own. They were graceful in ways that spoke of years of experience and considering they’d both been born sometime earlier in the Years of the Trees it wasn’t all that surprising. She’d been born in Gondolin – never having to cross the Helcaraxë or endure similar hardships.

Her own blows were heavy, her footwork substandard, and her grace completely lacking. Maybe that was why she only won two of her numerous sparring bouts throughout their time there, irritation making her scowl as she tried to console herself and her terrible form. Practice always made perfect, didn’t it? She just needed time, and she had plenty of that to reach the heights she wanted to. They were safe inside their city. She bit her lip. No need for tears of frustration. She could do it. She would do it, and nothing would stop her, whether it be her parents, the golden-haired idiot, or even balrogs.

“You are far too tense.”

She leapt about a foot in the air, heart beating frantically at the sound of his voice behind her. Normally she found herself hyperaware of his presence, though then again, usually he was sparring her so she didn’t have to focus on where he was – so much as what he was doing and how he was trying to stab her. “I’m fine,” she grumbled. He’d totally seen how epically she’d failed. There was no way he hadn’t. Disappointment made her eyes drop to the ground, determined not to look at whatever expression was on that annoyingly handsome face of his. “The practice is over. What do you want?”

“I was wondering whether you would like to spar on our usual grounds… You seem a little disheartened, and I have no wish for you to return home in such spirits,” he said, shifting on his feet almost imperceptibly.

“And I would enjoy sparring with you, because…?” she trailed off, eyebrow raised as she fought the heat rising in her face. He wanted to make her feel happier. That meant something right? Not that she particularly cared if it didn’t.

“I quite enjoy your company, and I was rather hoping you would feel the same.”

She blinked, hearing him swallow as he waited on her response. Though it wasn’t like her rejection would hurt all that much. He had Lord Ecthelion as his sparring buddy. “I suppose your company is tolerable,” she said, grabbing him by the wrist, practically sprinting away from the eyes she could feel boring into her back. Why was everyone staring? She usually ended up battling the immovable brick wall that was the lord of their house.

His hair shone like spun gold in the fading sunlight as she lay sprawled on the hard tiling in front of him. He was smiling down at her, not a single glimmer of sweat on his brow unlike her own, his laughter musical and sweet. It also wasn’t directed at her pitiful form either, and for that she could admit she was begrudgingly grateful. She hated it when people made fun of her weaknesses. She already knew she had far too many of those. “I enjoyed that more than I should have,” he murmured, and she came to a horrifying revelation as she stared at him, his golden armour dappled in the sunlight streaming through the sole tree in the courtyard they’d battled their way into. It had been fun. She’d enjoyed his company far more than she should have. “Would you be adverse to coming here again at the same hour tomorrow?”

She climbed to her feet. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible,” she said. “I need to get more sword practice in, anyhow.” She sheathed her blade, limbs aching as she made for the archway leading to the street. “See you at morning practice.”

He called out a farewell, and it was only when she finally heard the sound of his retreating footsteps that she risked a glance back.

She liked him.

It was no longer just about earning his respect. She liked him, liked him… “This is going to be a mess,” she mumbled, running a hand through her raggedy silver locks. “I can hardly believe I’m looking forwards to seeing him in the morning.” Five years ago she would have likely loathed his very presence… though she didn’t really understand most of her feelings towards the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower back then. In fact, she still didn’t really understand her feelings completely. “How things have changed…” She played with the golden necklace she always wore – had always wore, ever since she found it on her pillow. The same colour as his hair… but was he really interested in her in that way? She bit her lip. He was a weird one, and she didn’t want to assume. It was hardly her fault she was clueless when it came to love, courtships, and the like. She hadn’t thought she might fall in love with anyone… not that she was falling in love. She sighed. It was just the beginning of some crush. One that had been in the making for years it seemed. She’d just have to wait for him to make the first move… and take things from there. That she could do. That was her plan.

So when the morning came, she skipped to morning practice, ignoring the boggled eyes of the people who knew her closely.

“Did something good happen last night with our precious lord, lady—” static sounded in bursts.

She whirled, glaring at the speaker. “Nothing happened. We just sparred, that’s all!” she grumbled, folding her arms, her good mood evaporating.

At least until he arrived and smiled at her with that sunny smile of his… on that irritatingly perfect face of his that made her heart skip a few beats.

The alarm blared bright and early on Tuesday morning, and Anna sighed. At least her dream self had it relatively easy in that beautiful city… well, if she overlooked the numerous times she’d gotten stabbed, and the multiple times she’d been knocked around in swordplay. OK, so maybe neither she nor her dream self had it all that easy… but at least she’d actually wanted to get out of bed and train. Anna would’ve been very happy to stay under the covers for that much longer.

Still, it was just another week. She just needed to make it to the end, and then her friends would drag her out for a night of socialisation at the nearest pub – the King’s Head. It was their usual twice annual haunt, and if she was completely honest, she’d have been happier to stay at home. But they did that all of the time, and Rochel wanted to go out more often than not. Besides, it was only two days of the year. She could handle that. Mostly.

Even if the thought of going outside and into a crowded pub made her want to hide under her bed.

Anticipation built in her gut, her stomach churning at the thought, drumbeats, of all things, echoing in her mind as she thought about the weekend. It was going to be an important one. She just knew it.

“Looking forwards to tomorrow?” Rochel eventually asked on a lovely Friday’s afternoon. “It’s the one of the few days we can drag you out of the pit you call home and into the big wide world.” Two fingers prodded at her sides, and Anna smiled tiredly.

“I’ll bear with it for you two, I’m sure,” she said, sinking back in her chair. “Now, shush. I need to get this finished before we head off for the weekend.”

“Sure thing!” Rochel grinned. “Me and the girls will be over tomorrow for seven-ish, and I am so helping you get ready. I won’t allow you to look like some youthful grandma ever again.”

“That was one time.”

“Your fashion sense sucks.”

Anna snorted. “Rude.”

Chapter Text

Never again.

Her flats were a mercy on her feet, her jeans and t-shirt staving off the worst of the cold as she walked out of the noisy, overcrowded building. She was very glad of her decision to forego the heels Rochel had said would suit her outfit. Flats worked just fine, especially with her low alcohol tolerance. She hated places like that. Why had she even listened to Rochel? They both knew she hated places like that. And yet she’d still gone. How Rochel and Shannon could wear dresses to that place, especially in the cold weather eluded her. She liked being warm. In fact, she wanted to be curled up under her blankets right at that very moment, perhaps watching a movie or two. Those were a good way to kill time – not whatever the hell that mess had been back there. Parties and pubs weren’t her thing. She’d tried and tried, time and time again, but she couldn’t get used to them. People pushing against one another, the sheer heat of the room, especially in the centres where all those bodies congregated. They were a different species to her, she decided. Only strange people would enjoy that, and she wasn’t one of them.

Wind whistled in her ear, and Anna pulled her thin jacket further around her shoulders. “You won’t need a jacket,” they’d said, just liked they’d scoffed at the idea of her bringing a water bottle. She could totally see why bringing a camping chair in case of a lack of seating would be a problem though. She wasn’t that stupid. She was the smart one. How wrong they were. She only wished she’d brought a thicker jumper. It was still wintertime, and things weren’t looking to warming up anytime soon as far as she could tell.

She groaned, scowling as she made her way home from the pub. She never should have listened to Rochel. She hated going out, especially so late at night. The pounding in her head was only growing worse. It was that same word over and over again, carving itself into her brain.

Remember. Remember. Remember.

It repeated itself like a vicious mantra, and the scant amount of alcohol in her system was only making it that much worse. Her body felt tired and heavy, anticipation building in her gut. Why? She had no idea. All she knew was that she was expecting something. Something big. The pounding in her head grew tenfold, and she stumbled along the pavement, fumbling for the key in her pocket. She did have her house key, didn’t she? One clumsy hand massaged at her temples. This was not a good day for her. That much was certain. Her fingers closed around cool metal, and Anna stopped her panicking. All she needed to do was walk home. It was a ten minute walk at best, with only one major crossing. She could make it no problem.

“This is the last time I listen to Rochel about getting out into the world,” she muttered, pain lancing through her head at the harsh whisper in her brain.

“Remember.”

Fire nipped at her skin, her hands burning—

Anna looked frantically down at her hands, turning them over palm up. The same pale white skin tone, free of any burns or fire. So why did they hurt? “Ugh. Rochel will tell me I’m going crazy,” she said, sighing as droplets of rain began to fall, the sound muffling the agony in her head ever so slightly. “I hate this…” Grumbling more words under her breath, she hurried herself along. She wanted to get back before she was soaked to the bone. She knew from experience it wasn’t a good look on her. She doubted it was a good look on anybody… well, aside from the golden-haired elf from her dreams. He could probably pull off that look. She chuckled to herself, blinking as the pounding in her head changed. It sounded more like—

Drumbeats. Marching feet. Blood spattered across her face.

She reached the crossing, cars whizzing past in front of her, the steady sound of drumbeats ringing around her mind as she pressed the button for the crossing. Just a few more minutes, then she’d be home. Just a few more minutes—

A hand pushed against the flat of her back, her eyes widening, time seeming to slow as her head spun around to search for the perpetrator as she stumbled out into the oncoming traffic. Beams of headlights glared all that much closer, gaze narrowing at the sight behind her. Nobody was there. Nothing. Not even a figure running by in either direction. It was almost as if the wind had pushed her itself. Confusion and horror flashed across her face, the screech of brakes and the skidding of rubber against asphalt met her ears. Then time seemed to speed back up, her body slamming into something hard, pain exploding across her body, head cracking back with a slight pop, and then her world turned dark.

She dreamt again, but this time there was something different. The white city – that place of beauty – was on fire. Smooth white walls were in pieces, rubble scattered around the place, buildings demolished and burning in the wreckage. Her heart pounded painfully at the sight. Her home was gone. Destroyed. Dead. There were barely any signs of life – no children racing about the streets as there had been just a day previously.

“Remember.” The sound drifted on the gentle breeze, and then it was gone, replaced by screams and the sounds of buildings crumbling down.

“We must hold the Greater Market for as long as we can!” the soldier standing next to her yelled, taking control in place of their lord who was fending off the assault a little ways away, drawing away the fire drake that’d nearly ambushed them. “Do not let them cross the bridge and reach the Square!”

The orcs in front of them surged forwards, eager to break their lines, but she stood firm against them alongside the rest of her company. She wasn’t the same girl who’d gotten sliced up by their blades all those years ago. She was stronger, faster, and better. She wouldn’t lose. She’d trained too hard for that. Slash, parry, hack, block. Her arm fell into a mindless pattern, body moving almost instinctively as she held the line, allowing the last of the civilians and other residents to reach the secret way.

Drum beats sounded, the floor under their feet shaking, and then the horde in front of them scattered like leaves on the wind, fleeing to the sides. The respite was brief, their lord hurrying over to them, sharp grey eyes looking her up and down before he addressed their group.

“Everyone has either been evacuated or has perished – we need to follow,” he ordered, ushering them towards the bridge, looking back at where the enemy was coming from – his face grim. “Hurry. We are no match for what comes.”

“For what comes?” Her head snapped back around, throat dry as she caught sight of the figures walking towards them – footsteps heavy, flaming hair whipping out behind them, cracks in dark leathery skin which seemed to burn orange from underneath.

“Balrogs,” another woman whispered as they retreated across town, confirming her worst fears. “They will catch up at this rate…”

The bridge came into view, the supports weakened on only one side from falling rubble, but it’d be enough to get them all across. It’d let the balrogs cross too… let them reach the Square and Idril’s Secret Way far too quickly. “I will hold them off here. Hurry across. Quickly.”

She froze, her head snapping around for a second time, heart pounding furiously in her chest as she stared at the lord of their household. He couldn’t be serious. Holding off five balrogs was a suicide mission. The thought squeezed at her chest. He was too noble. Too stupid. Too self-sacrificing. He’d always been like that and it irritated the life out of her. The realisation burned her, legs shaking as she glanced between the golden-haired elf and the five fast approaching figures, her body moving almost on instinct. Her mind was made up. He’d always said she’d run if she saw a balrog. She closed her eyes, not knowing where the sudden rush of courage came from. It was about damned time she proved him wrong about something.

About damned time she stopped waiting for the idiot to make the first move.

“This really is a cruel thing of me to do,” she whispered, grabbing him by the shoulders, yanking his face down to her level, ignoring the startled yelp which was quickly quieted by her lips coming to cover his own. They were just as soft as she’d always imagined over the past few months, their kiss short and bittersweet, barely lasting a heartbeat. How she wished they had more time… but she doubted she’d have been that bold if she hadn’t just resigned herself to a suicide mission. It was the last chance she’d get. Cruel, perhaps, on his end, but she didn’t care in that moment. She stepped back, a sad smile pulling at her lips as she pushed him safely the rest of the way across the bridge. “Go,” she said, walking back across the bridge to where the stone had started crumbling. “Fly you fool!” she yelled, stomping her foot down with all her unnatural strength, watching as her sole route of escape crumbled down, willing the tears back as she stared at the man on the other side of the small canyon. Water rushed down below, the sounds echoing in her ears alongside the rumble of heavy footsteps that brought her doom that much closer. The doom she’d chosen. A smile pulled at her lips. Her parents had always said those who didn’t marry had strange fates, and this was hers. She’d bought them a little time at least. Her head shook, tears pricking her eyes at the utterly dumbfounded and horrified look on his face as he stared between the ruined bridge and her. He hadn’t not enjoyed that kiss. It was just a shame there wouldn’t be a chance for a second. “You idiot… I’m supposed to be the reckless one here…” Her voice was barely a whisper, heart aching at the thought of what could’ve been. Maybe they could’ve had a family together. Raised little elflings together. Stayed by each other until the very end. But apparently that wasn’t their fate. She turned, hands clenching at her sword as the five large figures approached, flaming manes whipping behind them, and blood red eyes fixed upon her as she strode forwards to greet them, her plain blade colliding with the fiery ones as their dance began. Three left, seeking other routes to reach further into the city, but two others stayed. And battling one would have been hard, but she had that strength of hers and an iron determination to match.

Flame sliced over her, heat licking at her face, burning at her side—

“Remember.”

She couldn’t breathe. Fire tickled at her throat, the whip tightening around her neck—

“Remember!”

The dream shattered like glass, and then she fell.

“Time to wake up…”

Anna blinked, staring at the meadow she now sat in, hands gently pawing at her unblemished neck. Hesitantly, she climbed to her feet, movement catching the corner of her eye and she turned, freezing in the next second as she caught sight of exactly what was in the field with her. Or should she say who?

Bluish grey eyes met her own, silvery hair fluttering on the breeze. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but we don’t really need any introductions,” the musical voice floated through the air, a sheepish smile pulling at the she-elf’s lips. “You know why, don’t you?” She walked towards her, footsteps not making a sound nor leaving a trace in the muddy grass. “Of course you do.”

Anna stumbled back, legs shaking as those drumbeats echoed in her ears. “No… I don’t…” she muttered, but the elleth didn’t hear her. Either that or she didn’t care. Anna wasn’t sure which. All she knew was that the silvery-haired lady was in front of her before she could blink.

“Mandos was correct,” she murmured, two fingers coming out to flick at her forehead, and Anna found herself knocked back from the sheer force behind the blow. “It’s time you remembered, and the only one who can help you is me… Hmm… how would you put it…” She tilted her head, a smile on her lips. “Two must become one again and, as your friends probably would say… it’s time to fall down the rabbit hole, Alice.” A grin stole across her face, her lips still moving, the words barely registering as a loud crack rent the air.

The ground crumbled under her already off-balanced feet, and then she was falling again.

Her eyes slammed open, breathing heavy as she woke from the dream-turned-nightmare. Birds sung, the morning sun bright on her unprotected face as she sat up, memories rushing back to her like a flood. She’d been hit by a car, quite badly from what she could recall, so she’d be in the hospital, or so she assumed.

Her assumption was soon proven wrong.

There was nothing between her and the bright blue sky above her. Nothing between her and the grass she could feel underneath her. She swallowed, silently assessing her own body, taking in its undamaged state. “Impossible,” she breathed, stumbling to her feet, freezing as a lock of silvery hair fell in front of her face. Her head snapped around to find the source, her body freezing as the hair moved with it. “No… No, no…” It was her hair, she mused, hands coming up to pull at the silky long tresses. Her silky long locks, she realised with a start. “This can’t be.”

Water rushed by her, echoing in her ears, and Anna wasted no time in hurrying over to it. She needed to know. Needed to see. Needed to check whether her horrifying suspicions were correct. She’d seen that silver hair before… but that was impossible. It couldn’t be. She stumbled into the stream, feet bare as they splashed through the water. Staring down at the water, she paused for a moment, stumbling back as the horrifying revelations sunk in.

“You’ve always known who I am, how could you not?” the voice, her voice, rang in her ears. “For I am you, and you are me.”

Staring up at her from her distorted reflection was the undeniable proof of that, for the face reflected back up at her was the face from her dreams.