Chapter Seventeen: The Tortured Seamstress.

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Thranduil's P.O.V

"Oh! What about, THIS ONE?" Neawilth squealed.

I have to constantly block my ears, trying to ignore the party in the other room. I heard a pair of footsteps, followed by a mumble "Please Princess, don't make a mess" by a familiar voice.

Minuialwen (Dawn). She's the one and only seamstress in the kingdom, and now she has to handle Neawilth while having nearly the whole kingdom on her shoulders.

"Ohh this is too loose!" I heard Neawilth whine.

Dawn sighed and spoke, "I'm sorry princess but that's the smallest dress size there is."

I couldn't take it anymore and left to find my mother. When I heard, "Well, you should especially sense I'm going to be the next queen around here. I think the dress can do a size smaller, don't you think, salve?" her voice wasn't its usual squeak, annoying tone.

I heard something drop, followed by a whimper of pain. "When I tell you to do something, you DO IT!" she ordered.

"Yes.... your maj- AAHHHHHH"

"Oh she probably broke a heel or something," I said walking to the throne room.

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Dawn's P.O.V

"Yes.... your maj- AAHHHHHH" I cried out in agony, as her longs nails were pierced my wrist, drawing blood.

With all my might to stop myself from lashing out at her. Her yellow eyes tore into mine with amusement. I gulped, closing my eyes as I felt my blood dip down my arm.

"Yes your majesty, Queen Neawilth," she said in one of her fake sweet voice, tilting her head to the side and battering her eyes.

"You will never be my queen!" I said, gritting through my teeth.

Neawilth's face went from amusement to shock followed by anger. "You know what really irritates me? Peasants. Always thinking they're on top. Speaking as if they have any power, well they don't!" she said, digging her nails deeper into my flesh making me fall to my knees.

Her friend snickered leaning against the wall, looking at her nails. Why are girls like this now? Why can't they be little angles, caring for one another with kind smiles and NATURAL APPERANCENCES!

Aren't elves supposed to beautiful in their own way? Not stuffing their faces with powder to gain attention. Then it's the outfits! Tight, tight dresses that they literally cannot breathe in! Why do they have to go through so much pain only to make themselves unrecognisable?

To make them worse. And what for? To gain attention from the other sex, men!

Why are they that desperate?! Why can't they just accept themselves, live their lives. Not giving themselves to every attractive man that walks around the corner. What will they tell their grandchildren?

'Oh I just was a whore'

No! They would have life lessons to share from learning from their mistakes and legends to tell.

I was ripped from my thoughts by the door closing. Little footsteps skipped up the stairs. NO, no, no, no, no! My eyes widen as my boy came into view, with a big smile on his face.

"GO! Oliver, Run!"

His smiled disappeared and replaced by confusion. That's when that's wrench's friend grabbed him. He squealed and started to fight against her grip. My eyes were watery as I fought against Neawilth, but she dug her nails in deeper.

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