In which Thranduil has some serious issues (like that's anything new), Tauriel does, too, and they try to figure out what they can do without Galadriel's help. In spite of everybody's best efforts and intentions, this isn't anywhere close to a healthy relationship. I know this is a short one, but I've been grappling with this story for months now.

That night, Tauriel slept well, but Thranduil lay long awake, troubled.

That he could bring her such pleasure made him feel beyond powerful, but it was that feeling that unsettled him. His regard for her had always been pure, spiritual rather than carnal. Some part of him had always known his obsession with Tauriel was wrong, but because his want for her was not physical, he'd always told himself that it was not truly wrong. He was not some disgusting Edain king, with a base craving for flesh; he wanted no concubine, no mistress. Tauriel herself was too pure, someone to be worshipped, not debased.

This was hardly debasement, and yet he felt strangely guilty. Watching Tauriel, touching her, listening to her…he wanted to fully take her, to make her scream for him, and yet the thought also wracked him with shame. For centuries, he had told himself that Tauriel was not to be touched that way, not to be thought of in any way that was not chaste.

She certainly seemed to have no such concerns; she was snuggled up against him like always, her head rested on his shoulder. Even now there was something clean about her, something he feared he would taint in some way. He was old and broken and more than a little toxic; Tauriel was young and filled with light, and he felt as though he were sullying her in some way.

She'd probably hit him if she knew his thoughts. If she'd felt at all debased, she would have let him know in no uncertain terms – and probably kicked him while she was at it. Tauriel was no shrinking violet, no naïve girl fallen prey to his advances – she'd been the one to advance on him.

His fingers traced down her back, smoothing over her soft nightdress. She had no idea how illusory her control over him really was, that he obeyed purely because he wanted to. Both times she had tied him up, he could have broken her bonds easily, but he'd wished to give her control, wished to let her do as she would. He knew she could have no inkling just how easily he could overpower her if he chose.

Well, no, of course she did. She'd spent so many months sleeping in his arms because she had no choice; she was fully aware of his strength. But if that was truly the case, how could she stand to be near him now?

Was there any purity left in his regard, now that she wanted him – now that he had let himself want her? The fact that he even could crave her physically troubled him. Immensely.

He would have to ask Galadriel. She might well be the only person who could give him an answer.

He couldn't…he couldn't defile Tauriel. She certainly didn't seem to think that was what he was doing, but how would she know? She who was so wholly inexperienced….

At least he hadn't actually taken her. He'd given to her, and what he'd taken from her had been at her command, so he wasn't certain it counted as taking. She had gifted it to him, and controlled everything. And yet he was afraid.

"I can hear you thinking," she said sleepily, mumbling into his shoulder. "If you are second-guessing last night, I'll kick you."

Thranduil laughed before he could help it. "You know me too well," he said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "I cannot help it. You are pure, Tauriel, and what I want of you has always been pure. Now…things are changing."

"Things have been changing since you…woke up," she said, sitting up to look at him. "That is not a bad thing, Thranduil, but it sounds as though you are not yet ready for it. I don't want you to feel that you are not allowed to touch me, but that doesn't mean we have to do what we did last night." She looked away from him. "My own motives…weren't precisely pure. Aren't. At least, I don't think they are."

He touched her chin, trying to guide her gaze back to him, but she refused to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Tauriel frowned, clearly torn. "I want to own you, Thranduil," she admitted. "Mind, hröa, and fëa. Even I know that's not right. One person can't own another, yet…I do not know how to not want you that way. I think I understand what it is you've felt all these centuries, though I think I might be even worse. There is nothing pure in it. I can't pretend to justify it, even to myself."

Such a pair they made, he thought sourly. "Tauriel, you do own me," he said, tracing his finger along her jaw.

She turned away from him, her frown deepening. "You shouldn't say things like that," she said, bowing her head, hair obscuring her face. "You are a person, Thranduil, with a mind and will and heart of your own. I can't own that, and you shouldn't let yourself believe that I can. You shouldn't want me to. I won't make you – " She broke off, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

Unfortunately, she didn't need to. Thranduil had a terrible, heart-gnawing feeling that he knew what she'd meant to say. "You don't want me to feel like you did," he said, sitting up and resting his right hand on her shoulder. "You can say it, Tauriel. The fact that I fully believed that all I did was for your own good does not make it in any way better than what you feel now. You are simply more honest with yourself than I was capable of being."

There was, he knew, another large and very crucial difference: Tauriel did not love him. His love might be warped and twisted and unhealthy, but it was real – but Tauriel? She was fond of him, yes, very much so, but she didn't love him. Their shared madness had made her need him, had left her as emotionally reliant on him as he was on her, but what she felt wasn't love, and probably never would be. Yes, the chain had been rendered ludicrous, but neither of them were ever going to forget that it had once not been – Tauriel especially.

Thranduil both blessed and cursed Galadriel, for showing him just what he had put Tauriel through. It was better that he know, that he understand, but at the same time, he was quite sure she would never love him, and he knew why.

Where does that leave us? he wondered. Could they truly go on like this for the rest of their eternal lives? It was one thing to be with someone because you loved them, but quite another to stay because you literally could not bear to live without them. Yes, it was working for now, but it had also only been a little over seven months since they came to any sort of understanding. It was still so new, and so fragile.

But the worst part – the part he hadn't even told Galadriel, and would never tell Tauriel – was that he'd do it again. Oh, he would be smarter about it – there would be no chain, no locking her away from the sun – but if he were offered the chance to revisit the aftermath of the battle, the opportunity to leave Tauriel free, he wouldn't take it. This might be strange and unhealthy, but he wouldn't have it at all if not for her imprisonment.

He was a monster. He'd known it all along, and he didn't think there was anything he could do about it at this late date. What he hated was the fact that Tauriel thought she was the monster, when she had absolutely nothing on him.

"Tauriel," he said, "look at me."

She did, turning to face him and brushing the hair out of her eyes.

"You have owned me, whether you like it or not, for centuries," he said. "My mind and my heart, sick though both may be. It brought you misery, and grief, and fear, for you did not ask for it, but the whole of me has been in your hands far longer than you were aware of. But I cannot touch you like that. Not again. It is…" He did not possess the words to describe just how wrong it felt, how foul he felt.

He hadn't known how she'd react to any of that, and was relieved beyond measure when she touched his face. "Thranduil, I would never wish you to do anything you were not comfortable doing," she said. "I do not want you to fear to touch me, because I crave our contact, but as I said, that doesn't mean we have to do more than this."

"You will not come to resent it?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair.

Tauriel shook her head. "You silly fool, I would never have thought it an option if not for that chain," she said. "I am content with what we have."

Content. Always, she said 'content', never 'happy', and Thranduil wondered if she ever would be. Yes, for now she still grieved her Dwarf, but he feared that even once her grief was spent, happiness would elude her. He wondered if she would ever be aware of all the things he had broken within her mind.

"You look too troubled to sleep," she said, when he didn't respond. "We might as well take a walk in the moonlight."

"Tauriel, it is frigid outside," he pointed out.

"I know," she said. "It will give us both something else to think about, even if that something is our frozen fingers."

I tried to write them with a sexual relationship. I tried and tried, and it just didn't work. What they have is too odd and too damaged to have anything sexual actually be healthy, and I just couldn't make Thranduil get over his weird obsession/purity issue. (Which sounds ridiculous, since I'm the writer, but seriously, I just couldn't get him to do it.) It felt as wrong to me as it did to him.