Betrayed by LadySternchen

Again

Red Herrings. Something a character assumed was true … isn’t.

Panic was still clouding Lúthien’s every thought, even after two days of knowing, and weeks of careful preparation. The thought of Beren, her Beren, captured by that abomination that called himself Sauron and held captive was very neigh unbearable, as was the fear of coming too late to safe him. At least, Lúthien thought, she would not have to do it alone. Daeron would be with her, and that was a tremendous relief. It paid off now that she had not had the heart to tell him that she had long since forgiven him, for he had been so eager to get back into her favours that he had agreed to come despite his misgivings. Part of her felt guilty for that, knowing how much Daeron was loathe to leave Doriath to go on some adventure, an adventure, moreover, with the mission of rescuing the man she loved, inevitably changing their relationship forever, and be sure to earn him his king’s wrath. It was selfish to use Daeron’s love for her for her own ends, she was well aware of it, yet it could not be helped if Beren was to be saved. And if he wasn’t, Lúthien reasoned, Daeron would lose her anyway, for she knew with absolute certainty that she could not survive losing Beren. Her mother’s words still rang through her mind, nothing should seem good nor fair… That was precisely how she herself felt, too. The very idea of life without Beren seemed to take all the warmth from the sun. Funnily enough though, that thought had something very reassuring, for if she felt for Beren the same way her mother felt for her father, then her feelings were beyond any doubt true and not, as her father still was convinced, fleeting as summer in the north. Yes, one day, Beren would die, her mind knew that, but her heart refused to believe it or indeed think about it ere it was inevitable. She would tackle the problem then, in many, many years.
Her feet made no sound as she hastened to the little glade where she would meet Daeron, moving swiftly through the woods that had so long been her home and that she now was to leave. Already she saw him standing there, hooded, his head bowed as if in grief, and when she drew nearer, she saw that his shoulders shook in a way that told her only too clearly that he was indeed crying. Pity gripped her heart, but she could not release him from this predicament, she needed him too badly.
“Let’s go.” She breathed once she reached him.
Slowly he looked up at her, his fair face streaked with tears.
“I’m sorry, Lúthien. So sorry.” Daeron sobbed. “But I could not let you walk to your death!”
“And neither can I.” said a voice behind her.
Lúthien whirled around, but her thoughts whirled faster. Daeron had betrayed her. He had truly betrayed her trust a second time, something so painful that she could not allow herself to think about it just now. All her hatred was instead focused on the elf before her, her own father. Fleetingly, she thought of the knife that hung by her side. He would not expect that, and would not defend himself if that meant harming her, either. One quick stab, almost painless, and then, you see, I am the one to make the rules, and can do as I please.
The next moment had her stumble back, appalled by her own thoughts. Had she truly come so far as to think of murdering her closest kin? She, who had grieved for cousins she had never known, and whole-heartedly shared her father’s and uncle’s hatred towards the kinslayers? Had she just now truly considered killing her sire? Daeron, clearly seeking to steady her, placed his hands on her back, and she snarled at him.
“Don’t touch me! You… I loved you, ever! Since we were elflings, you were my very best friend. I were ever dear to me as a brother. I trusted you. I forgave you. I thought you cared for me, truly cared for me.”
“I do, Lúthien, I care for you more than I care for my own life…” he pleaded, but Lúthien wouldn’t even let him finish, drowning his words in a derisive laugh.
“Sure. Just as much as my dear father, ey?”
Once more, she turned to the King, who stood still as a statue, his expression impossible to read even for Lúthien.
“I know you are angry, and also how unjust this must feel to you, but you need to see sense. I don’t know what this human did to you to make you act…”
Again, Lúthien’s hand longed for the hilt of the knife.
“What he did to me? Did to me? You…”
But words failed her, indignation striking her momentarily dumb. Again, her father spoke, just as evenly as before.
“You will not go after Beren. He knows the task. If he indeed is the man he believes himself to be, than he will be true to his oath.”
“And you think you will hinder me? The daughter of Melian the Maia?”
Lúthien thought she saw her father wince ever so slightly at her words, but if so, he swiftly recovered.
“You will not leave my realm. Ai Lúthien, do not make me lead you back to Menegroth like a prisoner…”
She laughed mirthlessly.
“Like the prisoner I am, you mean?”
“If there is no other way in which I can keep my only child safe, then yes.”
Silence spiralled horribly between them, until finally, Lúthien broke it.
“Fine then.” she said, tears of anger and despair falling from her eyes. “I shall bow to the law of the King. Put me in chains, if you will, and watch me bleed to death from the hurt you have inflicted upon me. But make no mistake, lord, you will bleed with me, for I am your daughter no longer!”
She meant to wound as much as she possibly could, and it pleased her greatly that she knew her words to find their mark. As for Daeron… she turned once more, surveying the minstrel haughtily.
“Get yourself gone from under my eyes, Daeron. Once and for all.”
And with that, she followed the king back to Menegroth in silence, her heart aching as never before. She had finally lost them all.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, Lúthien is beyond angry here, and hurt. We know she makes it up with her father eventually, and I feel sure that she will regret her words forever once she learns what they caused.