Thranduil listened carefully, his emotions remained masked until Saeril referred to his once-wife. A mixture of grief and anger shown within his eerily blue eyes, but he remained in his place and allowed Saeril to speak. "Leave us," he instructed the guards abruptly, and they turned to leave without protest.

After a long pause, Thranduil rose to his impressive height, then moved down the carved stairway to face Saeril. "If what you say is true...then you understand the importance of the treasure." For a moment, he seemed grieved. Far away. The elven king turned from her, his eyes locked to the throne that deserved a queen. The loss of his wife was a wound that would never heal. 

"Tell me...what would you have me give you in return?" Thranduil looked to Saeril now, his eyes searching her features to see if she was truthful in her words.