#thranduil fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Text

Winter Gem

Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: soft!Thranduil, widowed!Thranduil, fluff, peril & rescue, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.8k

Seeking something precious for Thranduil, you're caught in a storm. When you don't return, he goes searching for you.

A/N: For @firelightinferno

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

“The first snows have arrived.”

“It has come early.”

Thranduil inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.”

You stand beside Thranduil outside the main gates. Five guards stand nearby but there is no danger. A steady snowfall drifts down from the sky. The snowflakes are slightly gray in appearance, almost like ash on the wind. You frown down at a few of the flakes that land on your leather vambrace.

“You look ready for your hunt,” observes Thranduil, gesturing toward your attire with the tip of his head.

“Yes,” reply softly. “I plan on heading out for a bit.”

His eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “In this weather?”

You glance up from the vambrace and meet his blue eyes. Thranduil’s gaze is startling and sharp. Piercing. Intense. It cuts right down to your heart. His gaze always holds you hostage, wrapping you up in his essence. Most might find Thranduil intimidating, but you know better.

“Is my king telling me I cannot?” You’re teasing him, and Thranduil knows this. His smile is one of soft amusement.

“As long as you return to me. You are free to do as you wish.” Even though Thranduil’s tone is gentle, you understand the deeper meaning.

Thranduil lost his wife many years ago. Other than his son, Legolas, you are his comfort. He wants you to be free, to enjoy the pleasures of life, but he also wants you to be safe, to return to him at the end of every leaving.

Thranduil glances over his shoulder. The guards on duty discreetly glance away, staring off into the distance as if they’ve suddenly found something of great interest. Thranduil leans in and shifts his body to block their view of you. He is close enough that it might appear that the two of you are kissing, but he does not meet your lips.

In the end, Thranduil is private about affection. He does not like to share your tender moments together in front of others.

“Enjoy your hunt. I eagerly await your return.”

You give him a half-hearted, sarcastic bow that immediately puts a wide smile on his face. Thranduil watches you until you disappear into the trees. Perhaps he lingers longer than that, wondering if you will turn around and come back to him.

It is true. You are on a hunt, but not for what he or anyone else is likely expecting.

Over a week ago, Thranduil went out in the woods with some of the guards on patrol. It’s the first time he’s been out beyond the walls in some time. Many patrols that ventured into the northern regions reported back on a strangeness in the air, and the scent of evil. Thranduil decided to investigate.

While tracking, he lost something precious.

Around his neck on a chain, Thranduil kept a silver ring. Within the ring is a precious gem, a blue stone so pale it almost appears white like a burning star. The chain that held it snapped while he and the guards chased a group of spiders that had made their way south.

He remembered it snagging, and while he did not show any distress upon telling you of its disappearance, you also know how much that ring and jewel means to him. It was a gift from his wife when they were newly married. She had a matching one, but upon her death, Thranduil moved it from his finger to around his neck.

This hunt—your hunt—is about that ring. You have a fairly good idea about where it might have fallen, and there is no reason for it to have moved since then. Few enter these woods unless they follow the road, and that is on rare occasions.

Tracking is your specialty, and your time is not limited due to the falling snow. But you’ve tracked in worse weather. The snow is unfortunate, but you can still search as long as it remains at its current pace. The tree cover will keep much of the snow in the higher canopy. There will be time yet before the snow completely covers the ground and you lose the trail.

Heading north, you retrace the path the patrol took. Yes, a week has passed, and nature reclaims much, but not everything is hidden so quickly. There are small disturbances that indicate the path ahead.

As you begin to draw nearer to the area Thranduil mentioned, the snow starts to pick up. It becomes thicker, not staying above in the canopy but instead making its way to the ground. It’s not ideal, but you can manage.

Thranduil mentioned two tree trunks growing together and then breaking apart. When you happen upon it, the snow comes down in thicker sheets. On the ground, it’s sticking. Collecting. Time is running out. Elves have good eyes, and you focus in on the ground, gnarled roots, and underbrush.

Near the base of the tangled tree, you notice a slight sparkle. Approaching it, you go down on one knee, brushing away some of the snow.

“Found you.”

The ring is there, resting in the roots. It appears undamaged, and that is a relief. Picking it up, you tuck it into an inside pocket, protecting it from the elements.

The snow crunches under your boots, and the wind howls. For the first time, you shiver. Cold is not and has never been an issue. Elves can withstand a great many things, including winter weather.

Frowning, you turn into the chilly wind. There is a disturbance. Something dark and foul. It sets the edges of your nerves tingling. A simmering suspicion bubbles up from somewhere within you, question whether this snow is natural or not.

Turning on your heel, you head back the way you came. But the snow is heavy, and your fresh tracks are starting to slip away, returning to the snow. As you walk, the snowfall becomes a storm. The wind whips up, swirling the snow around until you cannot see more than a few feet in front of your face.

Your instincts were right. This storm is not natural. It is too early for it, and storms like these are rare in the Woodland Realm.

The toe of your boot catches in a downed tree branch and you slam face first into the snow. It’s freezing. Temperature isn’t usually a deterrent for the elves, but this is beyond cold. It’s as if you’ve been swallowed whole by a massive glacier.

You walk and walk, and you have no idea if you’ve gained any ground. There are no visible signs, and you’re not sure how far you’ve gone, or if you’re simply walking in circles. The snow is deepening or perhaps you’re imagining it. Everything seems darker, like the world is closing in.

You’re not dressed for this sort of weather.

And you’re tired. So tired. Your knees and thighs burn, and sitting down for some rest doesn’t seem so bad. It’s fine. You can take refugee within the deep roots of a tree. You can stay warm there until the snow dissipates. Then, you can return. Thranduil will understand.

As if opening for you, the roots of a nearby tree expand, showing safety from the storm. You slink into it, curling up into a ball.

You drift in the howling wind. There is a haze that sits on your eyelashes. Whether you dream or not is irrelevant. Numbness oozes into your limbs, and that only forces you to curl up tighter, wanting to pull away from the cold.

A hand touches the side of your head. It is warm. Gentle. The fingers slide up to brush your hair out of your face. You hear your name but it is a whisper. Distant. So far away it doesn’t seem real.

There are arms around you. Lifting. Steady. And when you inhale, the scent is familiar. You know who it is instantly.

“Thranduil,” you murmur, and the answer is a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“I found you, my star.”

There are only short moments of consciousness. There is snow. Cold. The antlers of an elk. The gates of home, and then warmth. So much warmth that the numbness begins to recede.

You are brought back to the living world near a roaring fire. Beneath you is a makeshift bed comprised of pillows and soft blankets. You shift, and feel bare skin against bare skin. Slowly, you push yourself to sitting.

Your leather gear is gone, replaced with a soft robe that traps in the heat.

“You’re awake.” Thranduil’s voice is a gentle, comforting hug.

Turning toward his voice, you watch as he glides across the floor. Thranduil wears silver robes of starlight. In his hands in a small tray. On it is a steaming cup of tea and an assortment of food. Bending at the knees, Thranduil settles in beside you, placing the tray down on the blankets.

“You came looking for me,” you say, and your voice nearly cracks with emotion.

“Did you think I would not?” he asks, arranging the food around on the tray.

You know, deep in your heart, that Thranduil would come, but you also believed in your abilities as a tracker. “When did you start to worry?”

Thranduil lifts the cup off the tray and presents it to you. “When the storm picked up. Something about it felt unnatural.” You take it, and bring the warm beverage to your lips. “I gathered some guards and we set out. It is good that we found you in time.” He pauses. “I’m not sure my heart could take any more loss.”

The heat of the tea spreads throughout your body, the chill slipping away quickly. “I do believe you are correct. That storm was not natural.”

Thranduil nods. “There is a growing darkness to the north. The scouts on patrol have spoken of it often but have been unable to get close enough for more details.”

“Perhaps I strayed too close,” you murmur.

“Perhaps,” replies Thranduil, reaching out to take your hand. He lifts it, and brings it into his lap. Using both hands, he rotates your wrist until your palm faces the ceiling. Then, he guides your open palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of it.

Instant warmth shoots out from that spot, running down your arm and piercing your heart like an arrow. Slowly, he curls your fingers in, creating a loose fist, and then brushes his lips against your knuckles before pulling away.

He does not release your hand. “I know why you left.”

“Thranduil—”

“You did not need to explain. I understand why.” Thranduil reaches out and cups your cheek, turning your face toward him. “I am thankful that you found it, but you are also precious to me, and losing you is a far greater loss.”

You turn into his touch. “That ring is important to you.”

“Many things are important to me. But the ring is just that. A thing. You are breathing. You are here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Your eyes drift close and you revel in the warmth of his touch. “Are you mad?”

“Never.”

“Will you hold me?”

“For as long as you like.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @ninman82 @therealbloom

1K notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 2 months

Text

"Flower On My Skin" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

Thranduil gets his hair braided and thinks too much.

warnings/tags: bittersweet, more fluff tho, swf, King Thranduil needs a break

words: 1,9k

an: this is a gift for the lovely @tigereyesf who always comments on my posts on ao3 🤍 the lyrics are from Noah Kahans song "Your needs, my needs'

+ masterlist +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Thranduil understands that permitting you to be near him might not be wise. It could very well rank among the least advisable decisions he's made in ages.

But he did, he invited you again and again, sending horses and carriages to transport you ever since he found out you traveled all the way from Dale by yourself whenever he sent a letter.

Until he didn't need to anymore.

Not because you wouldn't come, but because you didn't leave.

Never in a million years would anyone have guessed that the stoic Elvenking would invite a human to his palace on more occasions than his own kind and surely no one would have ever thought that he would start courting them.

Yet here he was, sitting in one of his many blooming gardens, swatting away the hand that was currently trying to gather his hair.

"Stop this," Thranduil's stern voice would've had any other shiver in fear of losing their head, though it only makes you giggle.

"Please, let me braid it again," you stable yourself with your hands on his shoulders and lean over, chest pressed against his strong back.

"No, you little nuisance. I shall not! You know of the meeting I will attend later, we do not have the time."

Even though he can't see your face, he knows you roll your eyes at him, he can feel it in the huff you let out before letting go of him. The warmth of your body disappears as you stand up from the bench and throw one challenging look over your shoulder.

Thranduil watches how you lift the skirts of the gown you're wearing, the finest of silks that you've adorned with little handmade bows from the village, and flop down into the grass. There is not one care on your face that the hems will surely stain and that there are perfectly suitable marmor benches all over the garden and only one of those occupied by Thranduil himself.

You seem to ignore them every time you two spend time out here, he noticed you are much more content with your naked feet buried in the high grass and your hair intertwined with the flowers that grow here.

At first, he couldn't understand the fascination you harbored with nature.

Of course, he had a deep appreciation for the forest surrounding his kingdom, the strong resistance of the trees had been an inspiration for the winding halls, the water flowing through the roots and gifting life and the ever so steady wind reminded someone who lived a thousand years that some things, though they change, never completely disappear.

You, on the other hand, could not be separated from nature in any way whatsoever. There had been the flowers, first only on your side of the bed when he'd invited you to sleep next to him, and one day he woke up to find a vase filled with Astilbe flowers on his nightstand and on his vanity as well.

You also spend most of your day either wandering through the woods (which left him restless and worried until you accepted the sword he had his blacksmith forge for you) or meeting him here in the gardens. He would never tell you but before you, he hadn't walked or maker-forbid, sat there for decades.

Now, he found himself soaking sunshine more days than not, reading Elvish poetry to you while you rested curled into his side with one of his hands brushing your hair, or, chasing you on his Elk through the forest, following the sound of your horse and your laughter.

Your infatuation with nature and the stubbornness of pulling him along made him fall for you, deeply and most ardently and he knew that one day he would need to survive the sight of forests and gardens and flowers without the urge to burn them to the ground for outliving you.

As he watches you examine the colorful flowers and gather them in your lap, he isn't sure if he will be able to contain that anger against the gods if the time comes.

You are oblivious to the dark clouds hanging onto his thoughts, he makes sure that you'll never see the heartbreak he lives through while loving you because he knows, he knows that you would do everything in your power to make him happy.

This is who you are, a human that lives and loves and pours all that you are into those around you, he sees it in the gentleness of your hands cupping the flowers before plucking them, in the way your tongue learned a new language for you wouldn't accept not studying it for an answer if you lived here.

You live to love and love to live.

Thranduil shifts, forgetting that there are guards stationed around the gardens who could see their King doing the unthinkable but he doesn't care.

Not with you sitting a few feet away from him, your dress spilled around you, a full smile on your face as you collect the flowers growing there for you, their little heads turning to you as if you are the sun for them as well, and not just for Thranduil.

If you notice him standing up, you give no sign, you don't even stop humming, and the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at this stubbornness is far too strong to stop it.

"Melethril nîn," he says quietly and his shadow falls over your body. The symbolism and fear of him taking away the sun from you has him clench his jaw. His pain is impatient as if it doesn't know he's going to live longer than he wants to and that it has all the time to break him down.

He quickly shuts those thoughts away behind the sight of you tipping your head back to smirk at him.

This is not the time to dwell on the future, not if he can exist in the moments he shares with you instead of fearing the time when he'll have to think back on them.

"Don't tell me you missed me," you tease.

He scoffs and –surprising you enough to let out a squeak– lowers himself onto his knees next to you.

Eye to eye, he feels much more comfortable, despite the stains that he knows now graze his robes.

"You know," he starts and lets his gaze wander over the flowers in your lap, however, you managed to collect this many of them in such a short time awes him, "the meeting can wait."

You catch onto the meaning instantly, your eyes lightening up even more. The golden rays of the setting sun reflect in them and he reaches forward to cup your face in the palm of his hand and gently leans towards you, capturing your lips in a long kiss that has you gasping.

"Now," Thranduil swipes his thumb over your lower lip, as you separate, tugging playfully at it and giving into another kiss before he continues, "Have your way with my hair, my love. I know you did not collect those flowers for any other reason."

You gasp ingeniously. "You are by far the wisest Elf I've ever met," you say and scoot –maker, he makes a note to get another dress just like this made because surely this will be ruined by the time you leave the gardens– behind his back.

While you gather his hair in your hands, this time without him trying to stop you but relaxing into the soft tugging, you mumble: "So wise, they should make you King."

He chuckles at that. "Ah, but I would need a Queen by my side. Do you know where one could find on–ahhh," his teasing words get swallowed by a sigh as your fingers collect some fine hairs on the side of his head and surely completely on accident run over the shell of his ear to the delicate tip.

"Ooops," you sing and just as his body calms, you repeat the action, even have the gall to scratch the skin with your nails and he melts into a puddle.

His ears burn, not just the one your breath hits but the other one as well and he can feel the blood shoot into his face as well, crumbling the stoic and straight-laced composure of the King who is already on his knees.

"You witch," he presses out between his clenched teeth and hears you giggle. "I should have never told you about that," he murmurs more to himself, trying to regulate his heart beating inside his chest like a wild rabbit on the loose.

You laugh once, a "Pah!" while you tug on his hair, "You didn't tell me," you say and he feels something get pushed inside the braid you are working on, "I found out all by myself."

Thinking back to the night that started this completely outrageous behavior trait of you fiddling with his ears whenever he doesn't pay you enough attention or he says something that teases you a bit too much, he can't tell if you are right or him.

A few years ago he would have shut you down completely because the King would never be wrong but now he grumbles under his breath, agreeing that you must be correct.

Then again, there are many new things that you brought into his life.

He laughs more freely, and not just out of spite of viciously.

He cares more, for you, for his son, for nature and sometimes even for the dwarfs he trades with.

He is formed by you, shaped by your untamable ways of never letting a rainy day ruin your mood.

He is nothing but wax in your hands.

Here, sitting in the gardens and letting you weave flowers in his precious hair, he is no King, he is just a soul yearning for your touch, a flower reaching to bloom in your golden light.

Thranduil's eyes flutter shut as you braid and weave and run your hands over his scalp and through his hair.

He may have fallen asleep, lulled into a trance by the warm sun caressing his face and your voice humming a melody as sweet as any words that you speak, because when you let go of the delicate braids and let them fall into the rest of his hair, he opens his eyes to a pink and purple sunset.

The birds sing their last song and the trees rustle, shaking their branches and leaves as if they would ready themselves for the animals coming to rest in them.

There is a pleasantly chilled breeze that comes with nightfall, one that brings the smell of flowers and grass.

"There," you press a gentle kiss to the skin right behind his left ear, "all done."

For a moment Thranduil is disappointed that you are finished but then he turns to find your smile and all is right.

"Thank you, meldanya," he says, already closing in to express his gratitude with a soft kiss.

You nudge your nose against his, eyes shut in contentment. "Thank you, for letting me. Le ni meleth," you say quietly.

"Always," Thranduil's gaze wanders over you, bathed in rosé and golden hues, the cheeks flushed from the air, your hair wild and untamed, and flowers all over your lap. He grabs a few of them, inspecting the stems and probing them with his sharp nails.

"Let me repay the favor," he effortlessly lifts you, smiling wide at the laugh bursting out of you as he sets you between his legs and onto his robes.

"I want my Queen to wear a fitting crown."

#thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #lotr fanfiction #lotr x reader #lotr x you

653 notes · View notes

tamurilofrivendell · 9 months

Text

Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno, @achromaticerebus, @coopsgirl, @birbixo0912, @desert-fern, @ancient-rime, @lady-of-imladris, @weepingdreammarvel, @asianbutnotjapanese, @deadlymistletoe

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

"What is?" You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Thranduil looked up and met your gaze. "The guards you have picked." He gestured to the paper in his hands as if it should be obvious. "They are not of a high enough level to guard the Queen."

“Oh.” You gave him a quizzical look, tilting your head. You weren’t entirely sure about levels and the like. Nobody had said anything yesterday. Nobody had even really told you much at all, in all honesty, you had been sort of left to fend for yourself. “I... didn’t know anything about that. I just had to watch them fight and pick, you said. They appeared good enough for me. I think they would do just fine.”

The Elvenking blinked at you for a moment, his thoughts more critical than he would have liked. If you had not been sure, why had you not asked? Deep down, he knew that you could not possibly have known to ask because he had not told you that you could, or should. He’d told you to pick your own guards and then left you in the training grounds to attend a council meeting. However, Thranduil had simply assumed you would have asked for help or clarification if you had needed it. And clearly you had if this list was anything to go by. As it was, you had not wanted to cause a fuss, or look foolish, or add more work to the king’s heavy load. The soldiers showing off their skills had seemed capable enough and that had been all you’d thought you needed to look for. Besides, how would you know anything about their levels? You still did not yet know everybody here.

Thranduil’s silence was uncomfortable but then he simply tsk'd and lowered his gaze again. He shrugged, almost to himself, but he did not sign off on the document. He simply scored something out before setting it to one side to go back to later. He would pick, he decided. If he let you choose low levelled guards, how would they protect you?

She would have chosen better, he thought, though it was there and gone again so quickly that he did not notice he’d thought it at all.

You eyed him for another long moment before you moved to leave the library, heading away down the corridor. He had been in a fairly strange mood all day and you supposed you should leave him to it. Not bad, exactly, just... distracted, perhaps.

Most likely he was still struggling a little with this entire situation and you couldn't really blame him for that because it was still so very strange for you too. To have wound up in an arranged marriage with the King of Mirkwood. You yourself were from Lothlórien, daughter of an important elf in the Lord and Lady's court.

While unexpected, you could see the positives in such an arrangement and, truthfully, you liked Thranduil. He had been kind to you, at least when you first met and agreed to this. However, now that you had actually moved here, it seemed a little like he had been taking offence to every single decision you made. He’d give you things to do and then seem unsatisfied with the way you had done them. It was frustrating but you could only assume he was stressed and that he would soon relax.

You went to sleep that night hopeful that tomorrow he would be in a better mood.

You found him in his study the following afternoon and felt relief when he looked up and smiled at you. "I hope you slept well. Are you prepared for the feast tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out to bid you closer.

"Mostly. I just have to decide what to wear." You told him, moving into the room and seating yourself beside him. “It is still between two dresses.”

He sat there looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher and it was almost as if he was studying something in your very soul. “Oh? You are not... set by now?” It seemed far too late to not have the entire outfit prepared.

You shrugged, always having been a bit more carefree and lazy in your decision making. You were a bit of a procrastinator and did not altogether mind if you left things to the last minute. Sometimes this was simply because you just... forgot. A far cry from the King beside you, of course. Also unbeknownst to you, a far cry from the Queen who had come before.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. His displeasure, however, radiated from him in waves in the silence that followed as he looked back down at the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Thranduil?"

"What?" He did not look up.

“Something troubles you.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt and you frowned at him, watching as he pretended to read whatever was on the desk but you could tell his mind was now elsewhere. You sighed and stood to leave the room.

As you turned, Thranduil’s hand suddenly reached out and grasped your own. You turned to find him looking at you, a soft smile on his lips once more. “You will look beautiful whatever you wear.”

Returning his smile, you ducked your head to hide the blush you could feel about to spread over your cheeks, and quickly took your leave.

Thranduil watched you go and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He liked you, he always had, but you were not quite what he had expected when he had finally relented to the pushing of his court to take a new Queen.

He had obviously agreed you would be a good choice. Your station in Lothlórien, your family tree, put you in a very good position to knowing how things worked... yet not entirely, it seemed. Something was a little... off now that you were actually here in Mirkwood with him.

Oh, you were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. You made him laugh. He enjoyed your company. There was simply something niggling at him in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

The feast came quickly, too quickly for you as the time just flew past. You had gotten caught up doing something completely unrelated and frowned when a maid rushed in to find you. Her relief was palpable but you didn’t understand it until you realised the time and she had ushered you back to your room to get ready.

Thranduil was irritated. There had been a delay - nobody had been able to find you - and you were not ready for the feast. You were not here, and it took so long that he had to walk into the room alone and act as though nothing were amiss. He had promptly sat down and thrown back a rather large gulp of strong wine, irritated by the hold up.

When you entered the room - finally - you were a vision. He took in your hair, the ornamentation in it and around your neck, and the royal blue dress with pleased eyes that did much to allay his frustration.

Then, you went and tripped over the hem of the damned thing because you had not bothered to see that it had been properly fitted.

Luckily, you were close enough to the table at this point for him to grab you by the arm and keep you upright, but his irritation only grew at the scene that your little stumble had caused. The attention you caught was not the type he wished for, nor were the titters of laughter around the room.

She would never have left the fit of the dress to chance, nor would she have embarrassed him as such.

This time, Thranduil did catch the thought, but he quickly dismissed it as a simple stray musing that did not mean anything.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little tersely, as he refilled his glass of wine.

You nodded, hardly noticing his tone yet as you willed the embarrassed flush in your cheeks to go away. You felt like the entire room had seen that and you cursed yourself for not even thinking that the dress might need proper attention. It just had not occurred to you.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He grunted and you finally looked up at him and noticed the frustration he was trying to bury shining in his eyes. You frowned, feeling even worse. He could not be... angry at you? Could he?

After picking at the food on your plate and watching one dance (you dare not join in with your dress!), you rose and made your way from the table out of the room without a word. You were not in the mood now. Reaching up, you tore the circlet from your head as you walked down the hallway as quickly as you could.

“Where are you going?” Thranduil’s voice came from the door you had just exited and you realised that he had followed you out.

Turning, you eyed him cautiously for a moment, trying to ascertain his mood, but once more he was quite the mask. “I am tired, Thranduil. I am going to bed.”

He nodded, moving closer. His gaze dropped to the circlet in your hands. “You could not have waited until you were behind a closed door?”

“What does it matter?” You asked, shrugging at him.

Thranduil didn’t respond but his brow creased just the slightest bit. Did it matter? He began to walk down the hallway and you turned to walk with him since it seemed that he was heading in the same direction you were anyway.

“Are you upset?” You ventured after a while, watching him come to a halt as your question reached his ears.

Thranduil blinked. Was he upset? He supposed that he was feeling frustrated. Annoyed. Angry, perhaps. Why? He turned his head to look at you, a soft frown of confusion on his face as he shrugged. “I suppose I am. A little.”

“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer right away because, truthfully, Thranduil could not fully put into words what his problem was. What had gotten him so riled up over something that, logically, he told himself did not truly matter. Thranduil shook his head. “I am not rightly sure.” He offered his arm then. “Come, I will escort you to your room.”

But you would not be shut down quite so easily, and you shook your head. “You must know what is wrong.” You insisted. “How can I help you if you do not tell me?”

Thranduil frowned at you, his frustration growing once more. “I do not need your help.” He stated firmly, moving his arm closer so you would take it, but you still did not take it.

“Well, you need something. You-”

“Stop. Please.” He snapped lightly, dropping his arm since it had become clear that you were not going to take it. He turned around and took a step away, not wishing to engage in this right now.

“Thranduil!” Was he truly going to just turn away and leave? In the middle of a conversation? You could not quite believe it. “Just tell me what is wrong! Tell me!”

“She would not behave thus!” He thundered as he spun back to face you, and then immediately fell silent. Horror seemed to fill him as he realised what he had just said.

You frowned softly back at him, shaking your head. “Who-” Your mouth snapped shut as you stared back at him, suddenly understanding with a sick sort of certainty.

She. Her. His deceased wife.

She would not behave in this manner. She would not behave how you were behaving. She would do things ‘the right’ way. She would do better.

You could not hide the hurt that bled across your face as the two of you stared back at each other in the long, deathly silence that followed. Thranduil seemed to be frozen, utterly stricken, but you did not see it past your own dismay. Then, you were gone. Turning and fleeing from him, away down the corridor towards your own rooms.

Thranduil did not see you for two days.

He tried to seek you out that same night but he had not been able to find you and, so, retired to his chamber to wait until you were ready to talk. However, it seemed that you were not willing to talk at all as, two days later, he received word that you had been seen sneaking into the stables with a bag full of your things.

Had it not been for you carrying your own belongings, Thranduil might have dismissed it and told them to simply follow you from a safe distance to keep you safe. As it was, he was immediately up from his chair and out of the door before the guard who reported to him could blink.

He rushed to the stables, finding you still trying to attach a bag to your horse, clearly frustrated that you could not get it secure. The animal, too, seemed unamused with your attention - blowing air through its nostrils and scuffing its feet.

“Going somewhere?” He asked quietly from the doorway, causing you to jump because you had not even heard him arrive, too focused on your irritation.

You stared at him for a second and found that looking at him hurt. You did not respond, you just turned your attention back to the horse and continued fiddling with the bag but nothing would attach the damn thing to the animal so you eventually huffed in exasperation and let it drop to the floor of the stall.

A silence followed.

You could feel Thranduil’s eyes on you but you did not look up at him.

“I never meant to hurt you” Thranduil said softly after another moment and you could hear the regret in his voice but you still didn’t look up at him.

Instead, you shrugged. “But you did.”

“Yes.” He agreed quietly, sighing. “I did.”

Of course, you did not resent him thinking of his wife. How could you ever? She had been a good Queen and an even better wife from all that you had heard of her. You had never met her, not even on a trip she’d taken with the King long ago to Lothlórien. But you had heard a lot about her and she sounded amazing. She was the love of his life, the mother of his only son, and you truly had never expected to replace her but to have him compare you in such a way... it had hurt, you could not deny that.

You were so different, you understood that, but... you were two completely different people and it did not feel fair for Thranduil to hold you to this standard that you had not even realised you had to meet. Yes, you were to be a queen and yes, you had a lot still to learn especially about Mirkwood and its own politics... but you were trying. You really were! All you needed was his help, not criticism. How could he not see that?

“Please just talk to me.” He said, his voice full of obvious unhappiness. His eyes dropped to the bag on the ground. “Where are you going?”

You held in a sharp comeback about why you should be expected to talk to him when he did not wish to do the same two nights ago. At his question, your gaze turned to the bag and you sighed, shaking your head. You bent down to pick it back up and began once more attempting to fasten it securely to the horse. “Home.” You said.

Thranduil blinked. “This is home.”

You frowned and your head snapped up to look at him. “This is your home... and clearly I am not welcome in it.” You hated how your voice shook just a little. You wanted to sound brave and firm, not like a hurt little girl. “I am returning to Lothlórien. You can call off all the arrangements.”

Thranduil stared at you then, watching while you struggled with the bag, as the reality hit him. You were going home, you were... calling off the wedding?

His arm shot out and he took hold of the bag, wrenching it gently but firmly from your grip. You gave a sigh and lifted your eyes to his face. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? You shook your head at him, throwing your hands up in a defeated manner.

“Do not leave.” He said, his voice quieter than he would have liked. He was certain it shook a little... but you did not notice.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, scoffing a little as you shook your head again. “Why should I stay here, Thranduil? I did not come here because I have no other options, I came here because I... I like you and I trust you and...” You trailed off, lowering your gaze for a moment, one of your shoes (which were absolutely not suitable for riding a horse in the first place) kicking at the straw covered ground. “I will not... settle for a life where I am never good enough, where I am always second best. A life in the shadow of a memory. A beautiful memory, do not misunderstand, and one I would never want you to forget... but I am not her, Thranduil! I am not her and I never will be and I am sorry but... I cannot stay here, not like this.”

Another silence filled the stable.

You looked away, at the horse, running your fingers through its mane. The animal was no longer in a mood now that you had stopped messing with the bag. You watched as it lazily chewed on some hay. Thranduil still had your bag in his hands, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap, his eyes on his hands. He felt ashamed and for a long moment he could not speak.

“You were never second place to me.” He whispered eventually, his eyes filling up with tears as he realised just what he had done. What he had made you feel. What he had made you think. “Never. You are not. I...” He faltered, grasping for the right words but he could not find them. “I know... what I said, what I have done, it was wrong. I cannot excuse myself, I do not even know why I...” He paused, frowning.

You didn’t look up, though you could see him in your peripheral vision. He seemed to be struggling. He was not always good with words when it was not about politics or battle.

“I did not realise I was doing it at first,” he continued after gathering his thoughts once more. “There is no excuse and I do not say this to make one. I simply... she is the only queen to have ever graced my rule. I was thrust onto the throne so quickly... and I was grieving and she had to... truthfully, she had no choice but to take control of many things until I was more... present.” More in the moment after watching his father die, after that dreadful day, after suddenly becoming a king. “My mother died long before I even began to pay real, proper attention to anything... royal. I... my wife was the only queen I have ever known here, I remember how she did everything, I grew used to it. I forgot that you... do not know and I did not help you properly when I know that I should have. So I compared you to her and it was not fair of me. You did nothing wrong. I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He did not really expect forgiveness, he did not feel that he deserved it, he did not feel that he should receive it. To have hurt you... it pained him. “I love you.”

You turned your head from the horse to Thranduil’s face, the shock evident as you stared back at him for a few very long minutes. Had you heard that correctly? Did he... did he say...?

Over this time, you had developed your own feelings towards the king. He was not perfect, though to outsiders he may look it, but that was probably part of why you’d fallen for him in the first place. You had not been able to help yourself.

In the beginning, after he had approached you and your father with the idea from his council of an arranged marriage, it was not something either of you had rushed into. He had spent some time getting to know you better, for he did not wish to wed somebody he did not at least get along with. He’d been clear on that with his councillors and advisors. He’d written you letters after he returned to Mirkwood, he arranged visits for you to come and spend time with him. He showed up in Lórien once with no other reason than to offer you a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself, then he took you on a walk through the forest and the two of you just... talked. After all of that, it had been so easy. To say yes. To agree. Though you had known, you had known, that he would never love you. He cared for you enough, you knew that, but as a friend. He would never love you as he loved her. At least that’s what you had presumed.

“You...?” Was all you could say, still staring at him in absolute shock.

Thranduil nodded, the tears in his eyes that he’d managed to keep at bay finally beginning to spill down his cheeks as he blinked. He glanced down, embarrassed, lifting his thumb to his face and swiping away a tear. “Yes.” He whispered. “I... I should have said it before, I should have... shown it better. I am so sorry... but please.” He lifted his head again, his eyes wide as he looked at you quite desperately. “Stay. Please... do not leave me.”

You were staring at him, frozen for what felt like a long time, and Thranduil began to lose hope. You would leave and he would never see you again all because of his own stupidity. He knew you did not love him that way, that you had agreed to this as his friend, but he needed you to stay here, he could not bear to lose you.

When your voice finally came, it was but a whisper, and there were now tears in your own eyes to match Thranduil’s. “...I love you too.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to stare at you. He looked like he could not comprehend what had just come out of your mouth. He looked like he did not dare believe it. You stepped towards him, your hand dropping from the horse as you reached for the bag in his hands. He let you take it and you swung it up onto your shoulder out of the way, taking one of his hands in yours. You were still hurt but you could not believe this had happened... and maybe this was just something you both had needed to go through, to be able to get past it. Something his mind had needed to work through.

“I love you.” You said again, a little louder. You felt his hand squeeze yours and you lifted your free one to his face, wiping away his tears. He looked like he dared not even hope that what you had just said was true.

“You do?” He asked then, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you while you wiped his tears away. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest as he looked back at you. He was not fully sure he had even entirely admitted to himself that he loved you until right now. He’d felt it, he’d been aware of how fond he was growing of you despite those other thoughts, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings - he had not felt such love in a thousand years.

You nodded, your anger fading away, leaving both your hurt and your love behind. “Yes... I do.” You confirmed, sighing as you took his other hand. You heard his breath catch in his throat and you gave him a sad little smile. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Thranduil said immediately, shaking his head firmly as he cut you off. “Do not. You have nothing to apologise for, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am the one who was in the wrong. You will make a good queen. I should have told you this... I should not have gotten upset over such trivial things. Dresses...” He scoffed at himself. “None of that matters.” He said, glancing down shamefully. “I do not want you to think that I... that I do not appreciate you for who you are or that I wish you to be somebody else... because I do not.” He shook his head. “I love who you are, I love everything about you. I am so sorry.”

You could practically feel your heart soaring to the heavens. You simply could not believe that Thranduil felt this way about you and, despite your hurt over his words, you were quite overjoyed. You finally smiled and Thranduil took a steadying breath before he moved. He leaned towards you, slowly so you could turn or pull away if you did not wish it, but you stayed perfectly still and waited for him to kiss you.

When he finally did, it was like electricity. It was like something you had been missing your whole life suddenly clicked into place and you removed your hands from his to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His own tentatively moved to hold you gently by the waist. When he broke the kiss and you opened your eyes again, you could tell by his expression that he truly felt the same, that he was floored by all of this, and you could see how deeply he regretted hurting you, making you feel inferior, second best.

“You will stay?” He asked then, still sounding a little uncertain, despite the fact you had kissed him and admitted you felt the same way. He was worried he might have ruined everything before he even got the chance.

You gazed up at him and you nodded. “Yes... I will stay. Of course I will.”

There was still a sadness in your eyes that broke Thranduil’s heart to know that he was the one who put it there and he vowed to do everything in his power to make up for what he had done.

“I will never make you feel that way again.” Thranduil told you, his voice extremely firm, his gaze sharp but loving. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “I promise.”

You smiled and he kissed you once more before he took your hand, leading you from the stables and back into the palace, back to the future with you that he was more grateful than he could ever express to have not forever ruined.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

frost-queen · 3 months

Text

Lady of Mirkwood | (Reader x Thranduil)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22@elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

| Meeting Thranduil

You met Thranduil when the Third age progressed. It was when the Necromancer unknown then but known as Sauron later on claimed the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc to make it into Dol Guldur. Sauron infected the woods with spiders and orcs. The spiders and the orcs expended their reach claiming more and more for them. Infecting the very nature with their filth and death.

All the elves were forced to leave the woods. Those who fought back were brought down. Countless of lost elves filled the sickening woods. You were amongst some elves that were fleeing. The orcs had increased their stench to the part of the woods where you lived. With a few douzen you were. Fleeing for your lives as the orcs hunted you down. The woods had grown iller. Spider cobs were not too much yet in these parts. But a few spiders having expended their webs out to your lands.

Some elves wanted to stay and fight. They barely lasted long as the pack of orcs were too many. Sweeping them down in a matter of seconds. The others fled as fast as they could. Hatred, anger and sorrow grieving your hearts. You were running trying to stay out of the orcs clutches. The orcs attack made you stumble, dropping to the ground. Surrounded by death and darkness. You thought it was over. You thought you were never going to see the undying lands, but then a bright light appeared between the trees. The illumination blinded the orcs sending them back a bit. The light faded as you could see a small group of elves charge for battle. Lead by a High elf.

The orcs never stood a chance. The High elf approached you, helping you up your feet. The moment his eyes met with his, he was struck. Gasping breathlessly at your grace and beauty. The woods no longer having a place for you, he took you in. Thranduil his name was. King of the woodland realm.

| Life at the woodland realm

Thranduil was smitten with you. For the first time in many ages, the so cocky king found beauty in another. He threated you like a guest with the highest honor. Quarters close to his. Thranduil would host parties just to have an excuse to dance with you. He never let any other elf near you. He wanted you for himself. You sometimes dared to tease Thranduil by speaking to other elves, just to see his reaction. You loved how easily jealous he was. He would come over, pull you gently behind him while urging them in a polite way to leave. Sometimes he would lay his robe over your shoulder to hint to others that you were his.

Underneath the moonlight on a summer's day was when you had your first kiss with Thranduil. Forever giving yourself to one another. He married you a month later never wanted to be parted from you ever again. You became queen of the woodland realm. All the elves present adored you for your righteousness and kind heart. Whenever Thranduil dared to lose his temper, you were there to calm him down. Sometimes you would come along with Thranduil and his army in an attempt to reclaim your woods. When Thranduil saw his numbers dim and almost losing you in a battle, he gave up. Not wanting to see his people be slaughtered or see you in danger. For he could not afford to lose you, his brightest star.

| Legolas

Legolas was born with grace. You loved every little detail of him. Thranduil would be careful at first. For he feared to hold such a fragile creature. He feared he might harm it in any way. You would show him he could do no harm. Taking his hand and bringing it up to Legolas for him to touch. His fingers would brush against his cheek making Legolas flutter a laugh. On that Thranduil was sold. Taking his son in his arms and care deeply for him.

As Legolas grew older, Thranduil insisted he had his features from you. Everything about Legolas reminded him of you. With the coming of Legolas was Thranduil more careful. You were no longer aloud out of the woodland realm. Not wanting anything to happen to you or Legolas. You had to admit it felt a bit lonely being unable to see the old woods. Your home that you missed dearly. With each year it grew colder and deader. Plagued by orcs and spiders. Since you had no where else to go, you focused more on Legolas. Teaching him how to defend himself. It was you who introduced Legolas to the bow and arrow. When Legolas was old enough to have his own bow, he would name it after you.

———————————————

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

414 notes · View notes

himegureisu · 1 month

Text

Time

Summary: Your love language is quality time. However, your husband is the King of Mirkwood.

A/N: I was supposed to write a Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader. However, this idea popped up and went brr in my head and then my fingers. I needed to finish it before it went so here it goes my first for this pairing I hope you enjoy! (And good night for me because it’s 4AM also not proofread)

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

——————————— 🍃 ———————————

“What was it, meleth nín?” Thranduil asked, “I apologize our time is to be cut short again,”

It was the nth time someone interrupted your strolls to whisk him away for a matter of utmost significance and to be honest, you were tired of it.

Trying so desperately to take time between the day to see him. To get a moment of his time.

He was a King.

A title that holds responsibilities he could not neglect. You know that. However, you didn’t expect to be pushed aside.

“It’s nothing,” you fake a smile, “You should go they need you,”

But I need you too.

You didn’t try after that.

Your handmaiden noticed your melancholy days after the incident. It was like he didn’t notice you were gone.

Yes, you did eat together most of the time. However, you didn’t pop by his office during your free time. You didn’t leave snacks anymore for him to munch on when he forgets to eat. You didn’t propose to walk so you could both stretch your legs. You didn’t wait for him to go to bed.

Contrary to your belief, your husband did notice your absence.

His days were often tedious and tiring. Your short visits were always something he looked forward to. The bright spot to his days so when palace staff gossip came through his ears…

“The Queen seems pale. Is she ill?” a soft feminine voice asked in concern,

“Oh, why would she be ill?” a different voice, an ellon this time, “Maybe she’s expecting a child!”

“She could be ill because of the child.” the elleth remarks, as another joins in the conversation,

“The Queen is not expecting I would know.”your handmaiden divulged as much, No, she seems dejected.”

“The King has been busy…”

Her words echoed in his mind because it was true. His thoughts wandered to those moments your times were constantly interrupted and the day you last visited.

Oh.

“Where is the Queen?” he asks your handmaiden, who exited the study, a book on hand for you.

“At the gardens, My Lord,” she simply answered.

“That’s for her?” he gestured to the book, she nods meekly, “I’ll take it to her. Go tend to your other duties,”

Your handmaiden scurries off in fear and intimidation to go prepare your clothes for the evening. On the other hand, your husband quickly makes his way to the gardens where he couldn’t see you.

“By Valar,” he mumbles frustratedly, walking through the foliage, “Where are you?”

Your soft sniffles give you away.

Between two trees, there was a hammock tied on to their sturdy barks. On the hammock, beneath a thick blanket, you hug his pillow as your tears fell down your cheeks.

From outside your cocoon, the grass crackle as slow footsteps approach your hideout.

Your book finally.

“Did you find that book I asked for?”

“I did,”

A different voice answered. One you haven’t heard from in what seemed like days. His voice.

“Meleth nín,” he breathed out, “Please do not hide from me,”

“I’m hardly presentable,” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, as the hammock tilts a bit on one side, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting of sorts?”

“No,” he frowns, sitting on the edge of the fabric, the book left on by his side, “I don’t care if you’re presentable or not. I’m not the kingdom,”

Slowly, you emerge from your shell to be greeted by his silver eyes, dull in color much like your own has been these past couple of weeks.

“Oh, meleth,”

There were dark shadows beneath your eyes. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears and nose flush from mucus buildup. His heart twisted beneath his chest at the sight of you.

What has he done?

“Oh, meleth nín,” he said, taking you in his arms for a warm embrace you missed, “I’m sorry. I am a fool,”

He hated being the cause of your tears.

“You were,” your voice cracked, as you tuck yourself beneath his chin savoring his presence, “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you too,” he kisses your forehead, and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out, didn’t make the time, made you cry, made you feel like this…”

Your tears fall once again down your cheeks to his robes. He noticed. He noticed your absence after all.

“You are my starlight, my reason to go on,” he softly declared, “I promise I’ll try to do better,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I needed” you quietly admit, “I thought I’d be bother you already do so much,”

“You are never a bother,” he adamantly says, glancing down to see you also looking at him, “You are always welcome to whisk me away from the duties of court. I’d rather you than them.”

“Their needs are much more important than mine,” you say.

“But your needs are the most important to me,” his words caused your heart to flutter in the most endearing ways. “You are the most important to me. You do not need to vie for my time or attention. You will always have it. Though, I may not notice it at times you should not hesitate to tell me.”

“If so, can we just stay like this?” you breathed out tiredly against his chest, your ear to his heart beating soundly beneath, “I just… need you,”

“We can,” he gently kisses your forehead, as your eyelids droop down, “It would be a pleasure,”

“Thranduil,” you softly whisper, as he places his forgotten pillow beneath your heads, “Gi melin,”

“Gi melin, meleth nín,” his fingers tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear as you settled on his chest, “Sleep. I will be here when you wake,”

It wasn’t long until you did.

Your breaths soft and even as Thranduil gently places the book on the ground so neither of you gets stabbed by its’ edges. He pulls you the closest he could, you unconsciously grasp tight.

Just the way you both liked it.

He lays there quietly observing the heavens, where scattered white clouds and birds of the realm adorned the blue skies, wondering how he was so lucky to have fallen for a second time to you.

He didn’t know what time it was and frankly, he didn’t care when his eyes slowly surrendered to the thrall of slumber joining you in blissful rest for the afternoon.

He would do better. He was going to do better. For you.

#fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #lord of the rings

336 notes · View notes

faeriichaii · 3 months

Note

Heyyy, I hope you are doing alright!

I wanted to request a kinda mean but later soft Thranduil x Shy Fem!Reader smut ♡ in which the Reader loves to read and sneaks into a forbidden part of the library and gets caught by Thranduil ;) ♡

Bookworm ~ Thranduil x Fem!Shy!Elf!Reader

A/N: Omg never did I ever expect to see a Thranduil request (even more shocking that it is a smut request🤭) But sure, I can do that for you <33 (Ngl I was very scared about writing this cause Thranduil is like such a hard character for me to write but I obv still appreciate it when I get him requested <33)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, bj ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes <33 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hiril vuin ~ My Lady ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Agórel vae ~ You did well ࿐ྂ

Summary: Legolas let the secret of a restricted area in the library slip, which makes you of course very curious. So after deciding to enter the forbidden part, you get caught by none other than the elven king himself.

Enjoying the serene chirping of the birds, you turned the page of your book. You sat under a tree in the beautiful garden of Mirkwood. The book in your hand only had a few pages left and you just had to know how the story of the princess goes. Does she get her happy end or does the prince of hearts decide to take her down? You don’t know yet, however you are very keen to find it out. A soft gasp left your lips, as your book was taken out of your hands. “Isn’t this one of the books in the restricted area?” Legolas asked, as he turned the book around to quickly skim over the summary. His finger was still placed between the pages, in order to not make you lose the spot you have last read. He once did it by accident and he still hasn’t really recovered from the hell that you let loose upon him.

“Restricted area? I never saw a restricted area.” You said, as you stood up from your place on the ground and snatched the book out of Legolas’ grasp. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.” The prince began to walk away from you, however you couldn’t just let him go after he dropped this very important secret. “Wait Legolas! You can’t just walk away now. Where is this restricted area?” A sigh left his lips as you stood beside him and looked up at him with your big eyes. “My father would kill you if he spots you in there (Y/N). It really isn’t even worth it. The only person who walks in there is him and I sometimes join him, and let me tell you, the books are mostly on history about middle earth and nothing special.” He tried to reason with you, but you were insisting on finding this so-called restricted section.

“Legolas, we have been friends for more than just centuries, you do know me and you certainly know that I know the layout of the library better than anybody else. So how come I have never seen the restricted area?” Legolas stopped walking, which made you also stop in your tracks. “There is a mechanism to it. You have to pull a lever in order to open the restricted area and enter it. But (Y/N)…” He turned towards you and grabbed your shoulders tightly. “You really can’t enter. If my father finds out, that you have been in the restricted area, then he will certainly send you far away or set an even worse punishment upon you.” His worried eyes locked onto your own. You gave him a reassuring smile, before shaking his hands off from your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I will not go in there. I promise.” What the prince didn’t saw, were your crossed fingers, that were hidden away in the pages of the book you now desperately wanted to return to the library.

After you said your goodbyes to Legolas, you decided to take a detour to the library. Just to put away the book you still held onto tightly. No other reason. Opening the big wooden doors, you walked towards the designated shelf and put away the book. Turning around, you scanned the whole room for any kind of lever. You walked towards the few golden candle holders, that were attached to the wall. Letting your fingers graze over the cold metal, you carefully tried to pull it, however it didn’t budge. A sigh left your lips as you continued to stroll around the library. You have been walking around for quite some time, until you noticed a little shelf that is tucked into the corner of the room. Examining it, you decided to try and search through the books, if they possibly could be the lever, you have been searching for.

Your eyes focused on a dark green book. The golden edges almost seemed to glow, as you let your fingers trail over the intricate design. Gently pulling on the book out of the shelf, you heard a click. The shelf started to move to your right, opening a small staircase to you. A smile spread across your lips, as you decide to walk down the few steps. Your eyes widened at the few shelves, that lined the stone walls of the small room. Each of the shelves were filled with various books and scrolls, some even in a language you can’t read. ‘How to Brew the Perfect Concoction’ or ‘Middle Earth: Past, Present and Future’ were only a few of the titles you have read on the spines. You took out a dark blue book, dusted it off and read the title. ‘The Golden Egg: A Guide for Dragons’. You didn’t even know that there was a book, explaining how to care for dragons. Putting it back on the shelf, you continued to stroll around the room. Time flew by quickly, as you read various pages of different books, and scrolls, until you found one you really wanted to take back upstairs. Tucking it in your small bag, you walk back up the stairs, pulled the lever that was attached to the wall and walked out. It only took you a few steps until you realized that the king himself was browsing through a shelf that was a little too close to the opening of the restricted area. His eyebrow raised, as he spotted you walk out of the direction of the small shelf. A blush dusted your cheeks, as you quickly did a curtsy and muttered a ‘My King’ in greeting. He mustered you from head to toe, until he noticed the small book that was peeking out from your bag.

You were ready to quickly exit the library, until Thranduil began to talk. “You did not perhaps take a book from a shelf you are not supposed to touch?” He asked, almost daring you to lie to him. The blush on your cheeks intensified, as you looked up at him. “I don’t think I understand, my king. I just took this book from a shelf that I have inspected earlier.” His eyes moved from your own, towards your bag again. “Well, I do hope so. If you would ever enter places, you are not meant to be in, than you will leave me with no choice but to set a punishment upon you.” He spoke, authority dripping with each word. A shudder spread through your body, as your mind registered his words. “Of course, my king. I would never do such a thing.” You smiled softly at him, before politely curtsying and leaving him be in the library. After walking through the big wooden doors, you let out a deep breath you didn’t even knew you were holding. Hopefully the book will be worth the trouble.

A few days passed and you devoured each and every single word, that was written on the pages. Hence you were once again standing in the middle of the restricted area, searching for another book to pass your time. You were at the furthest corner of the room, intensely reading a scroll, that you have found, until you heard the sound of the shelf moving. How come the shelf is moving? Your eyes widened, as the sound of footsteps walking down the stairs echoed throughout the room. Quickly shoving the scroll back into the shelf, you hid behind the burgundy armchair, that was tucked in a neat corner of the room. Holding your breath, you watched as Legolas entered the room together with his father.

“Why are we down here father?” The prince asked, as he let his fingertips glide over some of the dusty books. “We need to search for a scroll. It should be wrapped with a red ribbon around it.” A shudder went down your spine, as you spotted the red ribbon you have removed earlier from the scroll on the ground. In the exact same moment, Legolas picked it up from the floor and wrapped it around the scroll you carelessly shoved into the shelf. “I think I have found it.” He said and presented the item to his father. The king raised an eyebrow at the unravelled scroll. “Did you start reading it already?” “No, not yet.” Legolas answered, wrapping the ribbon around the paper and walking towards the stairs, in order to leave the room. He tilted his head, as he noticed that his father didn’t follow him. “Do you need something else?” “Yes, but you can already start reading the scroll if you want.” Thranduil said, his eyes still carefully scanning the room. Your head was ducked, in order to not get spotted by his hawk-like gaze.

The fading footsteps of Legolas leaving the room made you feel a little bit more relieved. However, you still felt Thranduils looming presence in the small space. “There is no need to continue hiding Hiril vuin.” His voice still seemed a little too far away for him to have spotted you. “You think I didn’t know you took the book from this very room?” Steps slowly started to approach your hiding location, making you duck even further behind the armchair. “I was the one who sorted through the books and scrolls and decided if they would be fit for this restricted area of the library. You weren’t even supposed to know of its existence. So how exactly did you find this room?” His feet stopped in front of the burgundy armchair. “And how dare you lie to me and still hide away like a little mouse.” A shameful blush dusted your cheeks, as you slowly stood up from your position on the floor. “My king, I can explain-“ He waved his hand, signalling you to stop talking. His eyes were filled with rage, as he deeply looked into your own ones. “You lied and now expect me to listen to your pathetic excuse?” You swallowed thickly, looking down at your feet. “You leave me with no other choice but to banish you.” “Banish me?” Your head whipped up, eyes wide and lips parted. Your heart beat faster and faster, as the punishment of your actions settled into your brain.

“Please my king, don’t banish me! I will do any other punishment that you are willing to put me through, but I am begging you, don’t banish me from Mirkwood.” Hands clasped in front of you, you fell down on your knees in front of him. Tears were lining your vision as slight panic settled into your body. You can’t get banished. You have family and friends in Mirkwood and where else are you supposed to go? The king raised an eyebrow, as you kneeled in front of him, pleading him for mercy. “You are willing to do anything?” You quickly nodded at his question. Hope filled your mind and soul as you stood up from the ground. Thranduil took a step closer to you. His right hand wiped a tear away, that escaped your eyes. Heat spread through your body at the realization of your close proximity.

“Show me how much you want my forgiveness.” He whispered, his fingers holding onto your chin. A shaky breath left your lips, as you let your eyes trail down to his own. The magnetic pull towards him was almost unbearable. The urge to just put your lips over his own and entangling your hands in his hair driving you crazy. You looked back up into his eyes, that were glistening over with unspoken want. Grasping his shirt, you quickly pulled him down, encasing his lips with your own. His hands held onto your waist, pulling you closer. You let your hands slowly trail from his chest to his neck, as you opened your mouth, letting your tongue entangle with his in a passionate kiss.

Thranduil separated from you. Your cheeks were bright red, as you took a few breaths to relax from the heated kiss. “Can’t you take more than a mere kiss Hiril vuin?” His head tilted to the side, as mockery dripped from every word he muttered. A huff left your lips. “I can take more than you think.” And with that you pulled him down once more, kissing him even more feverously than before. His grasp on you tightened, as he approached the armchair. Parting from you, he sat down on the plush furniture. His legs were slightly spread, as his arms leaned on the armrests. Your eyes trailed his form, until they stopped at the slight tent, that seemed to grow in his pants.

“Let’s see how well you listen to my orders now. Take off your clothes.” Your hands went to your shoulders. Fingers grazing over the fabric, you took your time pulling the sleeves off of your body. Your dress gently slid down your body, as it pooled on the ground. Eyes still focused on the king who sat in the armchair, you hooked your fingers into your panties. Pulling them down, you stepped out of the pile of clothes and began to approach Thranduil.

His eyes trailed over your body, leaving a hot trail as they go. Your walls clenched around nothing, as you inspected him. “What do you wish me to do next my king?” A chuckle left his lips. His fingers motioning you over. “I want you to prove your statement. You said you can take more than I think, so I want to see how much you can really take.” Thranduil unbuttoned his pants, lifted his hips from the chair and discarded the garment on the ground. His cock was long and thick. A soft gasp left your lips. You moved down on your knees in front of him, your mouth mere inches away from his tip. “My king, will you allow me to take a taste?” Innocence laced your voice, as you looked at him through your lashes. He nodded at your suggestion.

At the approval, you wrapped your hand around his base. Your mouth encased his red tip, gently sucking on it. A shuddered breath came from Thranduil, as he held onto the back of your head with one hand, making you moan softly at his touch. You took more of him into your mouth, gagging slightly at the process. Your tongue stroked the vein of his cock as you slowly started to bop your head up and down, hand covering the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth. Groans could be heard from the elven king, as his piercing eyes stared at how well you took him with your mouth. Your walls clenched around nothing and you could feel your wetness almost drip onto the floor. Craving to be touched, you let your free hand wander to your clit. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Retreating your hand from yourself, you let out a sad whine. Thranduils hand pulled on your hair gently. You let his cock go with a ‘plop’ and tilted your head to the side, awaiting your new order. “Sit down.” He said, patting his thighs.

Standing up from the ground, you placed your legs on each side of his. Cold air hit your dripping core, making you gasp. Thranduils hands grasped your hips tightly as the tip of his cock grazed your swollen clit. A whine escaped your lips at the intimate touch. “I want you to ride me. Work for it and earn your orgasm.” His lips brushed against your ear. You took his cock into your hands and aligned it with your entrance. Slowly you sank down, the feeling of the stretch making you part your lips in a silent cry. A groan from Thranduils lips bounced off the walls. You tightly held onto his shoulders, as you let yourself settle down and embrace his sheer size inside you completely. He was longer and thicker than you expected. After a few seconds of letting your pussy adjust to his size, you started to slowly move up and down. The elven kings hand trailed up your body, to grasp your boobs and twirl your nipples between his fingers.

Moaning at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix and completely filling you up, you connected your lips to his. The wet squelching sound of your pussy filled the small restricted area of the library. A familiar warmth spread through your lower region. Thranduil detached himself from your lips and leaned towards your ear. “Are you really already close? Is my cock so satisfying to you?” He gently bit into your elven ear, making you gasp out loudly. Your walls squeezed him tightly, welcoming him even deeper into your core. The king let his hand travel down your body, his fingertips gently leaving a trail. He drew circles on your swollen clit, making you arch your back.

The knot tightened, as your walls clenched on his dick. “Don’t cum yet. You have to wait. After all, it is still a punishment.” A whine left your lips at his words, only wishing to let the orgasm wash over you. “Please.” You begged him, as he even start to move his hips upwards, matching your rhythm. “What do you want Hiril vuin? Use your words.” “Please Thranduil, let me cum.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his dick twitch inside you. His hand grabbed your chin and pulled you in for another quick kiss. The heat that travels through your body is unbearable, as you try to hold back your orgasm. “You can cum Meleth Nin.” And with that, the knot unravelled and you came, squeezing his dick inside you. His big hands moved towards your hips, shoving you up and down on his dick at a relentless pace. Whining at the overstimulation, you buried your head in his neck. After a few more thrusts, you felt his cock twitch, as he filled you up with his seed.

He continued to move inside you for a few more times, before pulling out. His cum mixed with your own slowly started to trickle out of your core. “Agórel vae Meleth Nin.” Thranduil held your warm face in his hand, thumb drawing circles onto your cheek. He gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “Do you still wish to banish me my king?” You asked him, arms wrapped around his neck. “I think you proved that you definitely deserve my forgiveness Hiril vuin.”

350 notes · View notes

fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 5 months

Text

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 161- Cat Scratch Fever

Summary: A black cat crosses Josie's path bringing more bad luck to the Dorwinion castle. Narcisse is off kilter. Charles and Francis unite but not in agreement over their mother. Mary feels deep guilt of her knowledge. Francis gets under Josie's skin. She and Lola speak more about Narcisse's past. A cut won't heal. Bash has a scary story to tell. Josie panics over a possible resurrection.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, censored gif, sexual references, murder mentions

Chapter characters: Josie, Narcisse, Charles, Francis, Mary, Lola, Bash

Chapter word count: 8,447

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

When you got to Stephane's chambers, all was quiet after you knocked well over three times and called to him. Odd it seemed, considering the guard had told you Narcisse said it was urgent, so now you became concerned.

"Stephane?!" you loudly called to him one more time and wriggled the locked door handle.

Suddenly, you saw a shadow moving rapidly pacing about under the door and heard Stephane's charcoal gray magical Maine Coon cat Merlin, crying and clawing at the door. The crying swiftly then turned into a low emitted growl as if something were frightening him.

"Merlin sweety? What's wrong?" you asked as you bent down and placed your fingers under the door so you could scratch his chin, but he wanted no part of it. Instead, he began to hiss.

Something was wrong. Merlin was no "pussy" per se. In fact, he was quite the bad ass like all cats believed they were, so the scaredy cat persona was completely out of character for the long locked beauty of a beast.

"Alright honey. I'm coming in." you warned and gave the door handle an electric zap with a single twirl of your finger.

The latch made a loud click and then you cautiously pushed the creaking door open.

"MROWWW!!!" Merlin screeched and sped out of the room so fast, you almost tripped over him.

The room was dimly lit with all the curtains closed and on the sofa laid a sprawled out sleeping Stephane with one hand clutching an empty goblet over his stomach and the other hand grazing the floor with dried blood all over it.

Gasping, you quickly made your way to him, finding yourself crunching over a broken and bloodied shards of a mirror upon the floor. Kneeling down beside him, your widened eyes studied his chest to make sure he was breathing, which he was but it had a low raspy sound to it that reminded you of a....tiger's growl?? and he reeked of whiskey. Believing he was just snoring and intoxicated, you studied him over some more, especially his injured hand as you gently picked it up by his wrist so that you wouldn't shock him.

Angling his hand about to assess it, you noticed his gold ring, the one he always fidgeted with when he was anxious or lying. You had never paid much attention to the details of the ring before but now you could see it bore two gemstones, side by side as one piece that reminded you of the yin and yang symbol, for one stone was a black onyx and the other was a white moonstone. You knew that yin was of darkness and yang was of light. Could that be what the ring symbolized?

Moving your eyes on to his knuckles, they were all tore up so it was apparent that he had punched the mirror, but why was the question? Your hunch was the combination of the booze and his anger at you stemming from Haldir's spontaneous lip lock that he witnessed and possibly even something to do with Catherine's eldest son making an unannounced arrival that Stephane had clearly been upset about.

In that moment, Stephane had been dreaming. It was the day you first came to Dorwinion and he found you his red clover field searching for Haldir's gifted dreamcatcher you had dropped in the colossal cluster. At least he thought it was you as he viewed your long wavy scarlet strands from behind. Upon the woman's turning around, he found himself uttering the same words of shock that exited his lips that day and it wasn't the only shock he got.

"It is....you."

"Here kitty kitty kitty. Miss me? I've sure missed you. It's time to wake up once again, just as I had awoken the beast once before." Caroline cackled, forming her wicked grin and then clutched his hand, sending a burning jolt of juice through him, much like the one you and he experienced that day when your hands touched.

Feeling bad about his hand, you softly laid your hand over his wounds to heal him and in doing so, the electric current that you and he shared when your hands touched, shot right through both of you, startling him awake. But it wasn't Narcisse that you awakened.

Towering over your cowered body as you laid upon the floor in sheer terror, was a snarling and salivating beastly black panther with razor fangs as white as pearls and eyes that burned of the sun...and gusting from his roaring lungs was a fiery breath not of peppermint, but of black pepper.

"AHHH CHOOO!" you uncontrollably sneezed, spraying out a mist of sparkling silver water droplets into the ferocious feline's face.

He roared in pain and swung his paws in a frenzy at his eyes, giving you enough time to run and hide behind Stephane's liquor bar to try and rationally think of what to do, for this colossal cat was Narcisse and you didn't want to hurt him with your magic if you didn't have to, although it seemed you accidentally already had.

You were planted in a panic against the wooden bar, holding as still as you could as your frantic eyes scoured the darkness for movement and your ears searched for sound. Surely the beast would find you by sniffing you out, especially now that you noticed the palm of your hand had been scratched by the creature's claws and was bleeding. What in the hell was happening?? You knew nothing of his shapeshifting power. How the fuck did Narcisse transform into a giant fucking black cat before your very eyes and WHY?????

Your shallow breaths ceased as you heard grunting and groaning and then all went quiet again. As you prepared to counter attack in the least harmful way possible, you were grabbed by the arm and swiftly pulled to your feet by a sweating Stephane.

"Are you alright Jo???" he panted, steadying himself on the bar as you gaped at him in a frightful confusion.

"I...I...uh...umm...yes. I..think I should be asking YOU that??"

Narcisse glanced around, seemingly disoriented. "I...I don't feel so well."

He began to lean and fall, but you caught him and assisted him back to the sofa.

"What...what did you do to me??" he groaned and plopped onto his back, rubbing his eyes similarly to how the elephantine ebony cat had done.

"I...I don't..know?? I..I didn't mean to do anything. Lie still. I'll get you a wet rag soaked in healing water."

You cleaned your hand in the water which seemed to have ceased the bleeding, then quickly came back and sat beside him, forcing his rebelling hands away by his wrists in order not to shock him again and then laid the cool cloth over his inflamed eyes.

Narcisse made a frown as he licked his lips. "Silverbane. I can taste it. You sprayed me with fucking silverbane."

"W..what? I..how? and...I thought you were immune to poison??"

"Well apparently I am not to yours which you seem to have as a built in defense mechanism. I really wish you'd get your magical shit together Jo." he blindly griped with gritted teeth as he held the rag firmly over his eyes.

"But...even I can be hurt by Silverbane?? So how do I...oh wait..." you gasped. "It's just like Garrett. He can be hurt by fire, but yet he has fire power inside of him....and at Lestat's...I....I almost forgot....I had somehow conjured up Silverbane from thin air and blew it at my mother when she had almost depleted all of Garrett's blood."

"And yet once again, we are back to the vicious vampire." Stephane snarled as he snapped the rag to the floor with a huff and sat up.

He was somewhat right, you supposed. There you were, referencing Garrett after what you could describe as a cruel and vicious vision he sent you only moments earlier in your chambers. Even so, what you recalled was all still very relevant which would never matter to Stephane.

"You speak to me about being vicious after I just watched you turn into a very large vicious cat???? No wonder Merlin hightailed his ass out of here. Even he was afraid....and...so were you, for my safety. I can only assume that this is what was so urgent? What the hell is going on Stephane???"

"What's going on is that I'm a bit incapacitated at the moment which you seemed to have forgotten." he defensively deflected in which you immediately pointed out.

"Stop deflecting. Here. Let me heal you and...."

"No! Do not touch me Jo. A bath in the healing waters will do just fine." Narcisse barked as he abruptly scooted away from your extended hand.

"Ok, then at least let me help you."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking a bath...alone. Don't you have some place better to be? Like say...Mirkwood?"

Narcisse rose and headed for his bar to pour another drink, for his nerves were now unbearable after what had happened.

You flung to your feet and followed him. "YOU asked me to come here to your room...and now you want me to leave...and...for good?? What, kicking Haldir out wasn't pleasurable enough for you??? You want me to travel with my child when Harker is stalking all of us???" you reeled with stinging wet eyes.

Stephane's eyes refrained from yours as he knocked his drink back and poured another. Of course he didn't want you to go but his pride wasn't about to let you know that.

"Oh it was quite pleasurable to send the Lorien sprite packing. You have Legolas now since I see I now have more unwanted guests in my castle. He will keep you and Leean safe on your travels."

Narcisse turned without so much of a glance at you and walked to the other side of the sitting room with you once again following.

"You heartless son of a bitch! Have you forgotten why I am even here???! I need that book to stop Jareth!!"

An angry tear jetted down your cheek as you sharply blinked from Stephane's aggressive advance into your face.

"Heartless??!!!!! After ALL I have done for you and your company! All of the kindness I have offered you that I have never given to anyone else! Sleeping in my bed right after I confessed I was in love with you and I even pathetically allowed myself to shed tears at your feet over the fear of losing you. You also allowed me to love that little girl. YOU are the one who has forgotten! ALL you care about are the elves and that fucking vampire. You played me well Josephine. Beat me at my own past games of using someone for pleasures of the flesh. I can see I was right when I had once told you that you were a worthy opponent because no other has ever possessed the ability to make me feel less than I was and I can see no possible means of recovery from it. But I guess I have no one to blame except myself for letting my defenses down and letting you in, allowing you to see me bare in more ways than just my skin. Do you remember when I told you that?? That if you and I were to dive into those waters, that is what you would see? But the thing is...you don't see me! And you never will. I will never make that mistake again. I opened my heart to you. I told you things I would never tell a single soul. I threw you the grandest of birthday parties to make you feel better and because you hadn't had one since you were a child. I risked my life and men for you! I have even saved you from yourself! And for what?? To watch you kiss both Haldir and Garrett. Maybe, instead of standing here tearing my own self worth to shreds, I need to realize that I am not less just because I was much more than your inexperienced little hands could handle."

"Please...please stop Stephane. This was never about who you are. I know I hurt you and I am so very sorry, but I swear I never used you. I genuinely care for you, ALL of you and appreciate all you have done for me and Leann, or I would already be running after what I had just witnessed. I don't want to lose you too. Why can't we just please sit down and talk about this...really talk and listen and stop trying to hurt each other?? Let me try to fix this."

Narcisse knew that he had already scraped the bottom of the barrel with all he had just said and now he knew he must go even lower. You just weren't safe with him anymore.

"Because I have come to see it is no longer worth it. You...are not worth it and never were. It IS very much about who I am. It's about who everyone is because no one is your precious King or even Garrett, for they are all you speak of. No one else is good enough for you. I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me. If our demons cannot dance, neither can we." he growled with cold eyes and walked away again.

This time you did not follow, but stood there with a gaping mouth as many tears now fell.

Pouring himself more of the liquid courage to help him proceed in ripping both of your hearts out some more in order to push you away, Stephane drank it down, hesitating to turn and face you, for he could feel your tears and to see it would break him, so he remained a coward and faced the bar, then reluctantly began to continue on about Catherine.

"I called you here to inform you in person about Catherine so you wouldn't be blindsided by her release. Is that what a heartless person would do?"

"Catherine's....re...lease??" you stammered. "Wh...why on earth would you do such a thing????"

"I do believe that is none of your business. My castle, my rules and it's about time people start respecting that. I told you what you needed to know, now what you need to do is pack up your daughter and go back home with Legolas after this night."

"Are...are you insane??? Not only is Harker out there but so are Jareth's orcs! They attacked Legolas and Aragorn and almost killed the man who is travelling with them!"

"Insane? I have been called much worse, although I am sure many would be inclined to agree with you. Now, you can take your opinion and run along. I have a much needed bath awaiting before entertaining the enemies."

Narcisse gulped down the last of his bottle, then grabbed a robe and stormed out of the room, leaving you not only reeling at his lack of giving a shit but also wondering where he was even going since his bath was right there in his chambers, so once again, you followed him.

The room you entered consisted of a sizeable stone pool surrounded by dim candlelight and the air scented of floral fragrance, for upon the opaque water floated multiple flower petals. Pink roses if you were to guess.

Stephane stared at you with a scowl and undressed right before your stunned eyes, then scoffed when you promptly turned away upon the removal of his leather pants.

"As if you have never viewed my cock before. Why are you still here??" he griped as he yanked his ring off, then threw that and his robe to the floor.

The Yin and Yang gemstone clanked it's way to your feet. Keeping your back to the very nude Narcisse, you snatched it up.

"Oh stop with the infantile theatrics for once. You know why I'm here. You don't get to drop a bomb on me like that about Catherine and just walk away. I demand to know why you would set her free!!"

You trembled as you could feel him creeping up behind you. It wasn't because you feared him but because of how intimidated you were by his bare form. Not only had you laid your eyes upon the splendid sight of sculpted beauty a few times before, but you had also laid your body on it as well, so why were you so damn nervous??

"YOU will demand nothing of me." he snarled into your ear as he reached around you and swiftly snatched the ring right back out of your hand, but not fast enough to avoid the electrifying current. Gasping in unison with you, Narcisse quickly made his way into the vat of sparkling liquid and sat down to conceal his waxing wood, for the shock had greatly aroused him.

Slowly, you turned to face him once you heard the slosh of his descent beneath the water.

"Well then, I guess Catherine being on the loose is the lesser of two evils with what else has been released!"

"Alright, I'll bite. What do you mean?" he firmly asked while sitting stiffer than the stiffness below him.

"It's what I have been trying to tell you and why I need to find Ashmole. Jareth has done it. He has risen the dead, just like that psychic woman told me at my party or...I should say, like Peter told me in that vision I saw of him and now...he will come for me! I cannot leave here Stephane! Or you would be handing me right to him."

"And just how is it that you know this?"

"How do you not?? You know he has the three page spell to do it, no thanks to my mind altered father and just before I came to you today, I...I had another vision. It was...it was the vampire Kate. I saw her, with a head and all and...with Garrett. My visions are just like my dreams, both of the present and future and they are increasing and if I saw Kate, then many more are out there somewhere, waiting for something, something that I fear will change our lives forever. I fear a war is coming for the winter solstice. An army of the dead. I feel it. Even Legolas senses something sinister in the air."

Narcisse's bright blues gaped at the water in realization that your words were true. Jareth was the reason Rahl had resurrected and in that moment, he saw his denounced dark half reflecting back at him in the ripples, clawing at his soul to fully emerge from the grave...a box bound by 7 iron chains buried deep inside of Stephane's mind where he had cast him out to, but he could feel the chains breaking, one by one as if it were the rapture.

"Ahhh, I see now. That is what has your panties all in a bunch. Once again, it is because of Garrett. You're jealous."

"W...what??? What the hell is wrong with you??!! THAT is all you can speak of after what I just told you?? Not to mention AGAIN that you are releasing Catherine and having some party tonight as if Harker and the dead are not upon us! Oh, and there's the fact that you shapeshifted into a wild cat larger than Blaze! Seriously, what is happening? WHO are you and what have you done with Stephane???"

Stephane's expression was sullen and his gaze soulless, much like the soulless orbs of the animal that preyed upon you moments earlier. A soulless animal he once told you he was not and his words were as icy and cold as his dilated blues.

"The man you speak of no longer exists."

As you stood frozen by his words, he rose from the water. It was a shimmering sight that you now could not remove your eyes from no matter how hard you tried, almost as if magic were being used upon you, breaching your shield.

Narcisse slowly approached you in a most tantalizing manner, the water dripping and glistening over every inch of his masculine form as if he had been slathered in baby oil as his cock gave you it's undivided and full attention.

"I'm a monster. Refume by unfortunate events and given breath by necessity."

You took a staggering step back, unable to breathe. Unable to break the animal magnetism radiating between your bodies until his pupils glowed of the sun once more, followed by a low emitted growl that vibrated through his adam's apple.

Gasping, you stumbled back and found yourself racing out the door and down the hall, constantly glancing behind you, expecting to once again see the melanistic monster with paws measuring the size of both your hands combined, charging after you, but instead, you ran smack dab into Charles as you turned the corner.

"My lady?!! You...you look a fright." the young warlock exclaimed as his arms clutched tightly around your waist.

"I..." you panted and swung your head around to see an empty quiet hall behind you. "I...oh gosh. Well now I am just embarrassed." you softly said as you released Charles while a handful of people he had been speaking with, all stared at you.

"I was just...in a hurry...that's all. I apologize for my clumsiness." you explained, glancing behind you once more.

"Are you sure that is all it is? It would seem as if you believed something were...chasing you?"

His eyes were concerned and confused and you had to wonder if Charles knew of his father's "condition", but you certainly were not going to ask in front of the all the eyes still upon you.

"Oh no, no. I just need to go refresh for this evening's gathering, so I...I will just be on my way now. I'll see you then."

You awkwardly smiled and quickly resumed your path but once you came to the end of the hall, Francis and Mary rounded the corner. As the King and Queen of Lake Town passed you, Francis had slowed his pace to lock his baby blues with yours once again. He also offered you a slight head bow and a subtle smile, then continued on his way to call out to his half brother Charles.

Out of curiosity, you stood by the exit to watch as Charles turned with a sizeable smile.

"Francis." he raved and gave a hand swaying bow to the golden haired King.

Francis skipped the formal greeting altogether and went straight to embrace his little brother as Mary kept her distance and watched as well.

You knew nothing really about Francis but from what you could see, he truly cared for Charles and vice versa.

The two stood and conversed, but not loud enough for you to hear, so after a moment, you turned to leave, only to be startled by Mary.

"Oh..my!" you halted and gasped as your hand planted onto your chest.

"Oh dear, my apologies. Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you. I am Mary. And you are Queen Josephine of Mirkwood?"

"Y..yes...I.."

"I am sorry we did not have the chance to meet when you and your King were in Lake Town. My King and I were away on business. Luckily I suppose, considering the dragon's destruction. I would like to thank you for your aid in ridding of the foul creature and I...I offer you my...condolences over King Thranduil."

"Thank you." you simply and softly replied as your eyes fell.

Her eyes fell too as she fidgeted with her clasped fingers that laid upon the beaded bodice of her golden gown, that from the waist down, looked as if a thousand ducks had been plucked to assemble it. The girl was most likely no older than you with long waves of dark chocolate hair coordinating with her coffee hues and in them was a pool of true sorrow. Mary knew of the breath that Thranduil still took and may have been aiding her own King in Narcisse's blackmailing, but she was far from content with it. She did it only for the happiness of Francis so his mother could be free, even when she herself knew what Catherine was, for the two always clashed. No one was good enough for Catherine's son, whom Mary deeply loved. And because of that love, she couldn't even imagine what you must be going through.

"A...penny for your thoughts?" you asked the suddenly distant girl who you just realized probably did not even know what a penny was. "Oh...sorry. It's just...modern day currency where I'm from."

Mary's rosy lipped smile grew wide as she giggled. "Oh, I know what it is. My late father-in-law was the greediest man in all of middle earth. He traveled far and wide and had quite the colossal collection of riches, even pennies, which he had mounds of."

Well, that explained to you why Peter ended up there in his search for you and bought the emerald pendant from the abhorrent Alfrid just before Thranduil had captured him. If anyone was a greedy bastard, it was piggish Peter.

"I just...I feel terrible for what you have been through. Word travels far." she continued, then smiled again. "I'll take my penny now."

"Well." you smiled back. "If I come across one again, I will give it to you."

"That would be nice. I know they are not worth much, but to be gifted one from a beautiful Queen would be quite the treasure. It is nice to meet you Josephine. I hope we will see more of each other. I better tend to my husband. He and Charles seem to be in a disagreement of sorts."

You smiled and turned to see and hear the two young men quarreling and you knew exactly what it pertained to. Catherine being released, for Charles was greatly opposed to it and it was quite apparent that Charles had the better head upon his youthful shoulders when it came to her true colors.

"Just ask Josie! She'll tell you!" Charles shouted and motioned for you to come over.

"I do not need to hear her side, for it is not her decision." Francis firmly stated.

"And it is yours?? This is not your castle. It is my father's!"

"And he has agreed to free her. She is our mother Charles. She will not be treated like an animal! Why on earth would you side with the man who destroyed our family??"

Charles scoffed at his brother and quickly turned to you, where you stood hiding slightly behind Mary.

"Is this true?? Did my father agree to release her???" he asked in desperation.

"I...Charles...I'm..sorry. He...has and.."

"Unbelievable!" he snapped and spun back to Francis. "She coerced our sister into using black magic to kill a King vampire, which could have brought a war to our lands that we would surely lose and she also forced her into helping to poison a Lorien elf! And now our sister faces being banished from here with a newborn child!"

"Claude is a grown woman and made her own choices. She was not forced. She will be better off away from here anyways and to return with me to Lake Town, our home Charles! Where you should be as well."

"THIS is my home. I will go nowhere with you, nor will my sister!! You're as mad as our mother! I am going to go have words with my father!"

Charles stormed past you, but you grasped his arm. "Charles, no! I...umm, Narcisse...he's...he's in a bad way at the moment and I would not advise a confrontation. Trust me...please." you pleaded with worried but stern eyes which Charles seemed to understand.

He stiffened up straight and sighed as he lifted his chin to glare at Francis.

"I don't know what you have done to my father, but know this. This is far from over...brother."

Your heart was racing as Charles marched off, for you were praying he would heed your warning about Narcisse. Charles may have been merely 19 years old, but he was hot headed and certainly no push over, just like his father.

Francis turned to you with a smile, showing no sign of shame or regret over the dispute. It was as if it had not even happened.

"My lady. We have not been properly introduced. I am King Francis of Lake Town and I am honored to be in the presence of such beauty."

The audacious blonde bowed down, then took your hand and kissed it right on front of Mary, making you feel terribly awkward and bad for her.

You gently and politely as possible, slipped your hand out of his and forced a smile, when really, all you wanted to do was slap him.

"I...I am Josephine."

"Oh I know exactly who you are. A queen as well. It is such a shame to hear about your King. I suppose now I will have to confer with Legolas for our trades. Or maybe...I shall speak with you instead? I would greatly prefer that. Maybe over some dinner and wine?"

The words going through your mind at that moment were far from queen like. The nerve of this jackass...oh god, Josie, calm down. Breathe. You glanced at Mary, who remained silent with her head hung low, fidgeting again with her hands.

"It is King Legolas and he would be the one to speak business with is usually not discussed over dinner and wine."

The look in his blue eyes told you he was turned on by the way you shut him down.

"We can always skip the business then and just enjoy each other's company. In the meantime, I'll let you ponder on that. Mary...come. I must go see my mother now."

Francis walked off, not even waiting for Mary, so you quickly stopped her.

"I...I am so sorry for that. Please know, I..I would never..."

She softly smiled and took your hand. "It is alright. You are not his first conquest and certainly will not be his last. I..I must go."

As you watched her catch up to Francis, you wondered the same thing that Charles had asked...how did he get Narcisse to free Catherine? Off you then went as well, for you needed to speak to Lola about Stephane's past once more.

Lola was rocking Leean's cradle and singing softly to her when you arrived and you noticed her tears before she quickly turned away to wipe them.

"Lola?? Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes." she proclaimed as she turned with a smile. "Don't mind me. I was just thinking of my mother after we had spoke of her earlier. She used to sing to me and Leean really likes it. Even more so when you do it."

"I am so sorry Lola. I never meant to upset you. I...I miss my mother too. Well, the one I used to know as a child wearing rose colored glasses. Lola, I don't mean to change the subject but...when we spoke of Narcisse earlier, you said there was a time when he was different? Could you elaborate a little more on that because...something is very wrong with him. It's like....it's like there are two of him."

"Yes, that is kind of how he was from what my mother told me. Not kind at all and he dressed much differently. Robes and such, mostly of a scarlet red. Longer hair, dark as coal and his scent was different as well...kind of like..."

"Pepper??" you abruptly interrupted.

"Y...yes? I believe so."

You paced about for a moment in deep thought, fidgeting with your own hand, for it was itching something awful, then you stopped to look at her.

"You're certain it was Narcisse and not a...twin? I know you said before that you did not believe him to have any other brother but Bash, but you were just a child. It's just that... he told me something once that is not adding up now."

"I suppose I cannot be certain. I never saw or knew the Narcisse my mother described and he..."

"He what?" you asked when Lola had paused in thought.

"Well, he...he went by some other name too, I...suppose there could be a twin? If so, he surely never speaks of him. There's only one other person that would most likely know. His brother...Bash."

"Was the name...Lord Rahl??"

"I...yes. Yes, that sounds right. I think it was?"

That is where you would head next, to Bash, for now you were worried that if there was an evil dark twin like Stephane had told you there was, was he the one you had just encountered?? Had he done something with the real Narcisse and taken his place?? Because Lola confirmed the scent of pepper and that is exactly what you smelled. Although Stephane told you that he killed Rahl, it was certainly possible he was brought back by Jareth. OR...were Narcisse and Rahl the same entity? Holy shit.

"Lola..I...I have to go. I..I will see you and Leean tonight for the dinner party and I want you both to stay at Legolas' side. I will find him and send him back here to get you."

As you turned to go refresh, Lola gasped.

"Josie?? Your hand...it's bleeding!"

You also gasped as your eyes gaped at the blood trickling down your fingers.

"Owww, god." you groaned as you quickly squeezed a cloth into your fist, then sat down, for you suddenly felt dizzy and overheated.

"What happened?" Lola asked as she promptly brought you a pitcher of healing water, then sat beside you to help clean the wound.

Not wanting to tell her the whole story just yet until you spoke to Bash, you decided to fib...just a little.

"I..uh...broke a mirror earlier and...cut my hand when I was cleaning it up."

Lola pried open your clenched fist and removed the cloth.

"Oh my. Josie, that's pretty deep and looks...possibly infected."

It did. The gash was slightly blackened around the edges and it burned, and strangely, even more so when Lola patted it with the water soaked cloth.

"Mmmmph." you flinched. "I'm sure it will be fine after I soak it for awhile."

"Maybe you should have the healers look at it? You...you seem a bit pale."

If only Thranduil were here, you thought as tears stung your eyes. He would heal you right up with one touch of his soft magical hand.

"I'm alright. The sight of blood has always made me feel queasy."

The dizziness seemed to have passed, so you took the pitcher into the wash room and filled the sink basin, then held your breath as you submersed your hand. Five seconds was all you could withstand before you had to abruptly withdraw.

"Jesus!" you cringed and then noticed a sizzling effect on the cut of both sight and sound.

"It's like it's fucking holy water. I should be asking YOU Narcisse or whomever you are, what YOU did to me??" you complained under your breath while you angrily wrapped and secured a clean dry cloth around your hand.

"Lola, if Leggy comes back while I'm gone, tell him I went to speak to Bash and that I will be back soon. We can all go to the dinner together. Keep this door locked until then. it is to only be opened for myself or Legolas. If Narcisse happens to show up, you tell him, through the door, that I am not here and that Leean is sleeping so he'll go away."

"Through...the door? Josie...what is going...."

You were out the door and rushing down the hall before she could finish. One way or another, you had to find out the truth because it now seemed that danger not only lurked outside of the castle walls, but still remained inside of them as well.

"Bash!" you loudly whispered against his chamber door as you briskly tapped upon it. "I need to speak to you again. It's urgent."

"It's open." he called to you.

Upon your swift entry, you found Sebastian leaning against the wall by the open balcony doors, looking as if he had seen a ghost. Had he?

"Bash?? Is something wro...."

You froze solid as you came into view of the dead blackbirds scattered about the terrace floor. Slowly, you walked past him with wide eyes to get a better look, praying one of them was not your Freddy, the ridiculous name Garrett had given your crow over his Scooby Doo fetish.

As you visually searched through the feathered carcasses, you soon sighed heavily in relief because they were all too small to be your faithful friend.

"Bash...w..what caused this??"

"Mayhem and death. Birds fall from the sky when evil witches like him are near."

"Him?? Are you speaking of Harker?"

You had only known Bash for merely 2 months, but in that short time, you could tell he was a warlock warrior who feared nothing, not even Harker who had almost killed him...but in that moment, he looked absolutely terrified. And he was, for he had all the answers you sought and although it was a secret to have never escaped his lips, Bash knew this time, he had to tell you and later face the consequences.

"No...my..brother."

"Narcisse...did this?"

"Rahl." he simply stated with a horrified stare into your eyes.

"So....Narcisse does have a twin." you whispered as you clutched your burning hand. "Bash...I...he told me he was dead but...I think this Rahl was one of the many Jareth has conjured back from the dead with that spell and I think he has done something with Stephane!!"

"Twin? There is no twin. My brother Stephane and Rahl are very much one and the same." Bash verified and then glanced at the dead birds. "The only difference is that everything Stephane is, Rahl is the opposite of."

You had to sit down. You knew this was a possibility, but to have it be validated was overwhelming. Stephane had what you would know as...D.I.D. Dissociative Identity Disorder, otherwise known as a split personality or an alter...but who was the true identity? At least now you knew Stephane wasn't being held captive somewhere...or dead.

"So...he...he lied to me..."

"Wouldn't you? Lie about it? It's not something he is proud of, nor did he want it. Rahl has done evil things, like Harker and Jareth. Some he recalls, some he does not and Stephane is ashamed and certainly would not want you of all people to know, in fear of what you would think of him. My brother was never perfect. He had his own bad side when he was crossed. You've seen it. He punishes the evil, but he is not a cold blooded killer like Rahl."

"I...I suppose I understand that, for I was able to talk him out of doing some horrible things and I don't feel I would have succeeded if he did not have goodness in him. I..I'm just trying to process all of this. Referring to one body by two different names. I know it's a real thing, I just have never encountered it."

"Rahl is his second given name, after our father. Our father, who I believed caused the split by making him do despicable things as an adolescent. Stephane wanted to be good...of light. Not dark like our father, but our father expected more from him, being the oldest and he placed a very heavy weight on him to follow in his footsteps and that's exactly what Rahl did."

"He...he told me Rahl had your father killed, by that man Stephane fought and killed in the gambling tournament to the death."

"Yes, but it didn't quite go as planned. That man, Theodore, was his good friend whom he met because of Catherine. He was her husband, King Henry's brother. Rahl tricked Theodore by morphing into Stephane's image and offered him a very large sum of money to kill our father. He was full of greed just like Theo, so he knew he could get him to do it and not have to get his own hands dirty, possibly due to his subconscious, which I think was Stephane trying to fight him. But that quickly changed. Before Theo arrived that night, an argument revealed the our father had killed our mother and despite his blackened heart, Rahl loved our mother, so he killed our father first. Stephane didn't remember it right away. I think the trauma caused the memory lapse and when he did recall the events years later, that's when he set out to kill Theodore and end Rahl himself. As I said, our father did terrible things and made him do the same, but to Stephane, he was still our father whom he did everything to please....and he hated himself for what he had done, although sometimes I wonder if Stephane possibly wanted our father dead too. It would be a lie if I said I did not have similar feelings. I still stood by my brother though, because I knew of the things our father made him do. I tried to help him but I could never get through to him. There was nothing I could do. Rahl was too strong and powerful, even more so than Stephane. I never blamed Stephane for the things he had done. It wasn't his fault. I believed his hand was forced and his mind was ill."

"And he did all this for the crown? Stephane said his father didn't want Rahl to have it."

"He did at one time, but that was before he noticed the new change in him, the good side, the real Stephane, the one before our father's dark influence consumed him at a young age, altering his mind and that's when things went sour. Two others knew about his condition. One being your father Julian who tried to help him. That book you seek, the one Julian has hidden, it has the spell to lock the alter away in his mind and it also has the power to release him. Your father banished Rahl before he hid the book away to keep it out of Jareth's and other evil one's hands....including your mother's....because your mother, Caroline, who was the other with the knowledge of my brother's illness...she's the reason our father was killed."

"Wait...w..wh..what????"

"When Julian took Ashmole from his mother Jadis to undo Jareth's death, Caroline got her hands on it temporarily. When your father unknowingly slept with her twin Carrie, she punished all who knew and kept it from her and that included my brother. She brought the darkness of Rahl out of Stephane to a diabolical head... in a way no one had ever seen and hence, Darken Rahl was born. More wicked than our father could perceive. More wicked than he. Our father believed he would destroy all he had built and he denied him his right to the throne, so Rahl chose to take it, which is why Stephane has never called himself a King. In Rahl's short years of reign, even then he strangely was addressed as Lord Rahl, for again, I believe Stephane was somewhere inside of him, very much aware."

"God...my mother, even dead, still destroys people's lives. I've always known there are many things I don't know about that she's done and I'm sure this is only a fraction of it and...."

It just hit you. Something that you should have realized long before.

"Oh dear god Bash."

He tilted his head and stepped towards you with questioning furrowed brows.

"My lady?"

"My mother! What if Jareth....could he have brought her back as well?? And could she have awoken Rahl again?? She wouldn't need the book, for I am certain she would remember the spell...or...or did Jareth wake him up???"

"I suppose either or both are possible, but I hope for your sake, your mother was not one of the resurrected. I have never met her but her wicked reputation certainly precedes her in all of middle earth."

"Damn it. Why did my father have to go back for those pages?? Harker would never have gotten his hands on them if it weren't for that and my father would not have been converted to darkness. So now, what do we do about all of this without the book?? Because if you know about Rahl, then surely you must know about his animal form, the fucking gigantic jaguar I encountered earlier."

"You saw that?? That means....he is closer to surfacing than I realized."

"I not only saw it, I was scratched and it burns like hell. I tried the healing water, but it intensified the burn." you explained as you held your bandaged and trembling hand out.

Bash tried to hide his growing concern as he took your hand to look it over, but the light tremors in his fingers told on him.

"The water won't help it. It's like adding fuel to the fire. His claws are poisonous and his bite is venomous, both like no other. As I said, Rahl and Stephane are opposites even if they share the same body. Rahl propels poison, Stephane repels it. The Rahl that Stephane created is not the Rahl your mother conjured in the past and the one brought forth now will only be 3 times worse. It's like a pain scale of mild, moderate and severe."

"Third time is definitely not a charm. So what is it going to do to me?? And how do I get rid of it...and is that even possible?? Stephane, he repels poison yes, well, except mine for some reason, possibly because it was not him I cast the silverbane upon??...and his peppermint scent...it heals poison. He healed me from the dark forest and from wolfbane, so can he not heal me??"

"The question is...will he? Unless you can get Stephane to resurface, there is not much time before you will suffer vivid hallucinations and pain, and your powers will be completely useless. You will also be at Rahl's mercy. You will need Delphine, a witch doctor, for she has the only known antidote. She resides near the city. After the party tonight, I will go and try to locate her. She doesn't trust anyone but me."

"Stephane...he...he was still himself...right after he shifted back and realized what happened and what he had done. He was extremely worried for me...but then...his personality quickly began to change and when I last saw him, well...he was definitely not himself."

"The rapid change...It's because of the shift. After the cat appears, he is all Darken Rahl."

"It's my fault. I...I accidentally brought the beast out by shocking him...god...I need Garrett!! He can heal me, I know it. BUT...he is off doing who knows what with his former mate that Jareth revived. Bash, you must be very careful. Her shock is far worse than mine and let's not forget Harker and what he has already done to you. And I know Aragorn, Bard and Gimli went looking for Haldir, but please, if you see him, tell him I'm so sorry and that I miss him."

"I will...Josie...It's not your fault. You couldn't have possibly known. I will find Delphine and I will even be on the lookout for Garrett and the newly remodeled Kate. I will tell him you need him. I do not fear her nor Harker. Stay close to Legolas this evening and I will keep my eye on my brother. You should go now, before he finds you in here again."

After you left, you went back to your room to find a note from Lola on the vanity stating she, Legolas and Leean went to the dining hall to wait for you and that Boromir was anxious to speak with you. You had forgotten all about him and that he had come all the way there to inform you of something quite urgent, almost dying in the process.

You then went to the dresser to find some lace gloves to conceal your hand and as you did so, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Tears instantly formed at the mess you had become. Not on the outside, but the inside. It was a moment when you had felt more alone than you ever had.

You had to turn away, for you feared you would see Garrett again and you didn't need to be reminded, as if you'd ever forget, that he abandoned you and chose to be with a demon summoned from hell. All you had now were Leggy and Lola. All were gone, even Narcisse...even your letter to Thranduil that mysteriously vanished and you really wanted to read it again to feel close to him.

You sat on the bed, lost in the thought of your King, for he is all you truly wanted...and that's when the full blown tears came.

"Thranduil?? My love.." you squeaked. "I...I don't feel you anymore and I'm scared. I'm so scared and I'm lost and...I'm in trouble and I...I just need you...please...somehow, please come back to me...please my King, come ba...."

You loudly gasped and sprung to your feet and your heart paused and dove into your gut when you realized something else. Something horrifying, yet miraculous. Something even you wanted to do once.

Your words then came flooding out of you, choking away your air.

"Oh my god...could Jareth have done it?? Is...Thranduil alive too????"

@redeemer46

youtube

108 notes · View notes

madwomansapologist · 8 months

Note

peach + thranduil

peach — at what point did they understood that their lover was the one?

⤷ with: thranduil

You see, love for elves is such a serious matter. Attraction, lust, desire: those are shallow things. Shallow, ephemeral, mutable things. When and elve love, it's forever. Not even death can shattered this bond.

Thranduil went throught a lot. He saw Mordor, a part of him was buried there and will never grow back again. Thranduil veiled his father, and took care of his responsibilities. Thranduil led his people against Sauron's attempts to regain power. Meanwhile his realm was attacked and explored, he saw other leaders daring to say that Sauron was dead.

Thranduil became stronger, mostly because he didn't had another choice. Thranduil became wiser, because his people needed a good king. Thranduil became wary, because no one would help his realm but himself. But Thranduil didn't became heartless. Not at all.

At first, Thranduil sees you in paralel to him. You are stronger, but in a way different from his. Wiser, but different than him. And less wary. Less careful. Thranduil lived long enough to understand himself. He fell in love. And knowing that, he wouldn't act on this love.

Thranduil wouldn't court you. Would try to not think about you. To get away from you. Thranduil needs to understand if his feeling is truly. If it's something that will last. Mostly, if it's something he can control or that will control him. Thranduil isn't heartless, but his wary make it look like he is.

But what make his heart skip a beat is your honesty. The second you speak whatever is on your mind, act respecting your heart's desires, make sure to honest to yourself: Thranduil is whipped. To able to see who you really are, not affraid that you're hidden something, made him undertood something.

His grief and wary is tremendous, but his love for you is bigger than his fear. Thranduil have been alone for such a long time. It feels nice to be alone with you.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

222 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 9 months

Text

Princess of Starlight; Thranduil x elfling child reader

*Author's note*

Well guys this took me awhile to get around to making and a couple of weeks to write it all down but this weekend I finally had some time to fully sit and write it out and now it's ready! So @soralinklokidottirofmirkwood I appreciate your patience with me and I now present to you your request. Hope you enjoy it as well as any reader who catches this little gem.

Warnings: parental death, spiders (yeah those arachnophobes out there like me, BEWARE OF SPIDERS!!) mentions of infertility and stillborn children, some angst and fluff.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

____________________________________________________________

I managed to duck down into the root of a tree and quickly buried myself with some old leaves and twigs and stayed as quiet as I could until I heard the sound of their clicking and hissing. I then watched as their shadows went past the tree I was hiding under, hoping and praying to the Valar that they wouldn’t see me.

After what felt like forever, the last of them finally walked passed my tree so I slowly peeked out clenching my father’s crystal necklace he had given me before he and mother told me to run and hide. There was nothing but silence in the woods, no birds, no wind, not even the sound of running water.

Very carefully I decided to venture out of my tree in hopes of finding another place to hide, or maybe get out of the woods all together. Suddenly out of nowhere I was pinned down by three long, hairy legs and heard a hiss-like roar behind my back. I tried to fight but I felt myself being wound up in the sticky web of the spider that had me pinned.

Then as quickly as I felt it starting to wrap my up, it stopped. I heard the whizzing sound of arrows being shot, blades being unsheathed, and the terrible sounds of the spider that had me pinned along with more spiders from above the trees. Soon there was silence once again and I heard someone say in my language.

“How many are left?”

“I counted five more escaping during the skirmish my lord Legolas.” Said a female voice.

“Kill them all. None must be left alive. By order of the King.” The male voice said again. The female then proclaimed an Elvish command and I heard some running away from the area.

“My lord Legolas, what about the victim?” oh no. I tried to wriggle myself out of the web but it was so thick and sticky, I couldn’t even move my arms up that had been pinned to my side. So like a warm, I tried to inch myself to a hiding spot (even though I could barely see through the silked webs) but I was soon stopped by another foot.

This was it, this is where I would meet my end. Not by spiders but by my own kin. I felt as the webs were being cut away and I was now staring into the sharp, blue eyes of an elf in what almost looked like dragon-like armor.

“Stand down, she’s only an elfling.” He ordered to the few dozen guards that remained at his side. Unlike the others who had either dark or red hair, this elf before me had blonde hair, just like my mother did. I jumped out of my web trap and pressed myself against one of the trees and the elf told me, “It’s alright. No one will hurt you.”

Even though he looked intimidating, there was a comforting aura around him that I was sensing from him thanks to father’s necklace.

“Do you speak in the Eldar? Or do you also know common tongue?” he asked me. But before I could answer, I noticed a large shadow slowly coming down from above. It was one of the younger spiders whose feet are so light, they couldn’t even be detected by our Elvish ears. One of the guards happened to look where I was looking and proclaimed.

“Hir nin Legolas!” my necklace soon glowed and I extended my hand out and a powerful wind blast sent everyone falling down including the spider. It’s back slammed hard into the trunk of a tree before falling down on a spiked log, piercing it through it’s center and it quickly fell limp. The elven guards plus the elf who had tried to talk to me, Legolas according to one of the guards. They all looked at me in either shock or awe at what I had just done.

“I’m sorry.” I finally spoke to show that I knew both Elvish and common tongue. “I didn’t want that one to hurt you. They’re more deadly than the bigger ones, nana and adar were attacked by one just like that. The venom spread so quickly mother barely had the chance to cry out.” Suddenly one of the guard withdrew his bow and arrow and aimed it at me. I jumped back fearfully but Legolas stood in front of me, shielding me from the oncoming attack.

“Lower your bow Feren!”

“My lord, she had hurt you!” Feren snapped.

“It was an accident. She saved my life, and as such it would do you more harm than good to bring harm to my rescuer.” Feren without question removed his arrow from his bow and stood down. Legolas turned back towards me and knelt back down in front of me. “Little one, how do you know magic?”

“My father’s amulet. It just—glows whenever I feel high levels of fear and fires the magic. I didn’t mean to hurt you I swear it.”

“No apologizes necessary, may I be permitted to see your father’s amulet? Don’t worry I won’t take it from you.” I looked into his eyes and felt deep down he was telling the truth. I reached underneath my shirt and pulled it out and held it out to him. He gently took it in his hands and as he admired the crystal gem, I noticed how his eyes widened when he turned it around to look at the runes on the back.

“Am I—in trouble?” I asked nervously. He looked at me and told me as he handed me back my father’s amulet.

“No penneth. But we would like for you to come with us, the King would like to know of your presence in our part of the forest.” The King? As in King Thranduil? I had made it to King Thranduil’s palace?! I had but lost hope that I would make it here.

Before I had lost my father, he had told me to reach the realm of Thranduil. If I showed him my amulet, he could protect me. Those were his last words before the younger spider got to him and dragged him off into the woods, never to be seen again. Legolas kept his hand out for me to take it and so I did and he ordered the remaining guards to follow us.

As we walked, I soon began to feel the light of the sun upon my face as we reached a different part of the woods. I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt the light of the sun or have been able to feel all of Yavanna’s great creations all around me. The feel of the spray of the rushing waterfalls beneath us, the smell of the fresh air instead of the decaying one I had been under.

We soon came to a great fortress that had been built within the trees themselves. Gates of iron stood before us as Legolas ordered the guards to close the gates behind us. Once inside I was amazed at the interior of this grand palace.

Narrow walkways of tree bark and light that seemed to be glowing on it’s own from what appeared to be sap from the trees. Elves all around were walking the various pathways that either were below or on top of us. Soon enough, we came before a large, intimidating throne of wood and stone.

Large antler-like structures stood on either side of the throne that was at the foot of a narrow staircase at the foot. And sitting upon the throne wielding a staff was none other than the King of all Mirkwood, King Thranduil.

He resembled Legolas almost to a perfect picture but his eyes held a harshness that felt like winter wind hitting you in the face. A crown of autumn leaves stood upon his head and he wore robe of onyx and hanging off his shoulders was a blood red cloak.

“Legolas,” his voice held a deep booming sound to it that almost resembled thunder in the far off mountains. “Who is this child you have brought before me?”

“My lord, this young elf was found within the outer boarders of your realm. The spiders had ambushed her and nearly had her killed. She in returned saved me from a spider that we had missed that would’ve killed me.” Thranduil’s eyes shifted to me.

Seeing him upon his throne lounging against it and his icy blue eyes staring down upon me gave me an intimidating feeling.

“And you had killed it? It wasn’t left alive?” he asked me.

“Yes, Great King of Wood and Stone.” I said bowed to him.

“The child has manners. And a great debt is owed to you for saving my son.” He told me. Legolas is the son of the King?! I had saved the Prince of Mirkwood?!

“It is also best that you know this young elfling saved me not with a steel of any weapon, but of magic. A powerful magic that I had never crossed paths with before.” Legolas said again. I watched as Thranduil slowly came down the steps of his throne and stood before us and told his son and the guards.

“Leave us.” They bowed and soon I was left alone with the great King of the Wood. “Rise young one.” I got back to my feet and looked up at him nervously, fiddling with the ends of my tattered dress. “How long have you been traveling in the woods on your own?”

“I—lost my parents what feels like an age. But counting from what I could tally in the ground and trees, it had been nearly a year and a half since I had been on my own.”

“And from where did you hail from in my kingdom?”

“The Southern borders of Mirkwood my lord. Near the fell fortress. My parents and I escaped the spider raid when they first came upon the lands.”

“What were your parents names?” he asked me.

“My mother’s name was Thessa, and my father’s name was…..”

“Orrian.” The King finished for me. I looked up at the King in shock.

“You knew my father?” the king knelt down to my height and asked me.

“Answer me this, do you bear his family’s amulet? A clear diamond surrounded in silver?” I reached down into my shirt and pulled out the amulet necklace and Thranduil’s eyes widened. “By the grace of Varda. You are her. You are Orrian’s young starlight. You are just as he described.”

“My father spoke highly of you, but I always thought it was because you were the King of our realm.”

“Not only that child but your father and I go back a long time into our elfling hoods back in our old home of Doriath. He was the youngest cousin to the Queen Melian. And my greatest friend. Oh the times we had together as elflings.” His voice held a warm, gentleness and his eyes that once struck me with a cold feeling now held a warm, tender look to them. “I am sorry for your loss my dear child, but know that your father truly loved you. More than anyone, more than life.”

“That’s what he said before telling me to find you. Saying that you would protect me. I had but given up hope that I would even find sanctuary and that his and my mother’s deaths would’ve been in vain.” Thranduil placed a comforting hand to my shoulder and said.

“You need not think that anymore dear one, your parents can finally rest in peace knowing that you will indeed be safe here in my realm.” Then I did something I never would’ve thought I had the guts to do.

I embraced the Elven king. He tensed up at the surprised hug but gladly embraced me back.

Later that night after being provided with proper lodgings, food and medical attention to the scraps and bruises from running through the thick shrubberies. Thranduil sat down with me on my bed telling me all the stories of him and my father growing up.

“And had it not been for me, your father would’ve never had gotten the courage to ask a dance from your mother.” He finished the tale of how he had helped my father and mother begin their courting.

“Father always said he’d learn to thank you for giving him the proper push.” I fiddled with his amulet necklace. My heart growing heavy with grief. “I miss him and mother every day.”

“And they loved you dearly. They feared that they would go through life without being able to conceiving a child. Everytime your mother started to bear one, it was either a stillborn or she ended up losing it. But when you came along, there was something about you that made your father believe that you were the one. You were going to be the grace of Varda herself, and he was right.” He tucked some of my hair behind my ear and turned my chin up to look at him, “An elfling born with the power of the Stars and wind, and it is through that amulet that was brought down by his family line that helps harness your powers.”

“Yet they didn’t appear till after I had lost them. If only I was able to use that power to save them.”

“There is a saying your father used to say, ‘Yesterday is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present’. We cannot choose what happens in that time frame or what events will fall, only after what’s done is done, do we have the strength to follow through to the next event that may fall upon us.” I nodded and leaned my head against the king’s arm.

I felt his arm come around me, pulling me onto his lap as my head rested on his shoulder.

“I promise you (Y/n), you’ll never know fear or loneliness ever again. I swear on your father, I’ll try to give the same amount of love as he and your mother gave you.”

“Thank you my lord.”

“No more formalities. You may call me by my name when it is just us, okay?”

“Okay, Thranduil.” I felt him bring me closer to him in a loving embrace and he lay a kiss upon the top of my head.

For the rest of my life, Thranduil kept his word. I was raised at his side like his own daughter and Legolas came to see me as his own little sister. I was trained not only in weapons by my brother and father, I was also taught how to better control my magic. Though for those lessons, I was sent to Rivendell where I was told by Lord Elrond that he and his wife were good friends of my mother.

Lord Elrond taught me of how to better control my magic and how to use it in combat. Throughout the lands I became known as the Starlight Princess of the Woodland realm. Any orc that I came in contact with was blinded by my powers of Starlight and shuddered in fear whenever the winds would blow, signaling my arrival. And whenever I felt doubt or fear of forgetting what my parents looked like, my adoptive father was willing to show me old pictures of him and my father and tell me more stories of them and their lives together. And I never had to live with fear or doubt ever again, just as my adoptive father had promised.

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit imagine #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil imagines #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x child reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit imagines #legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf imagine #legolas greenleaf x reader #legolas greenleaf imagines #tolkien fandom #legolas greenleaf fanfic #legolas greenleaf fanfiction

319 notes · View notes

coraoropherion · 10 months

Text

Alive [Thranduil x Reader]

A.N: This is my first fanfiction, I hope that you enjoy! Please let me know if there is anything that I can improve on or if you have any requests. I will be taking requests for any LOTR/TH characters or Harry Potter characters. More options to come! (Gif originally posted by blackheart-beauty)

Request: n/a

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

Summary: Y/N, Thranduil’s second wife, is assumed to be dead after The Battle of the Five Armies, causing Thranduil to begin to fade.

Word Count: 633

Warnings: Mention of major character death, heavy angst, fluff

——————————————————————————————

The Battle of the Five Armies had left the Woodland Realm in a state of somber mourning. Although the battle was won, there was no celebration, only the whisper of an elven lament for the dead. Thranduil, the Elvenking, stood alone in his chambers, his heart heavy with grief. The news had reached him, an agonizing blow that shattered his world—you, his beloved wife, was lost, presumed dead, amidst the violence and destruction. He had tried to search for you after the fighting was over, but it was to no avail.

The weight of grief settled heavily upon Thranduil's heart, consuming his every waking moment. After his first wife, Calathiel, passed on from the mortal realm, it was a miracle of the Valar that he survived, and his spirit did not fade away. You became the new and only reason for him to live, other than his realm. After all, Legolas had left for his own adventures in the North.

Days turned into weeks, and Thranduil's grief consumed him. His regal façade waned, replaced by a mere shell of the once-proud, brazen Elvenking. His subjects watched in sorrow as their ruler, burdened by loss, began to wither. The light in his eyes dimmed with each passing moment, mirroring the slow decay that befalls all elves who lose their life’s purpose.

Within the confines of his chamber, Thranduil allowed his tears to flow freely, his sobs echoing through the empty halls. He clutched onto memories of your love, your laughter, and the warmth of your embrace, but they provided no solace in the void left by your absence. Tears stained his fair cheeks, and his blue eyes glistened– his voice choked with anguish as he whispered your name into the emptiness of the night.

It was then, when all seemed lost, that you returned—a week after the battle—bathed in the radiant light of the Valar. The wounds that had once threatened your life were now healed, and you stood before Thranduil. Alive.

His eyes bore into your own with an unbelievable emptiness. It was as if he was staring past or right through you. Suddenly, his crystal vision widened with disbelief, his voice a mere whisper. "Y/N, meleth nín... Is it truly you?"

Your arms enveloped him, holding him close, as tears streamed down his face. His cries were mournful, an outpouring of the anguish that had consumed him in your absence.

"Oh, my love," you whispered, your voice a gentle melody. "I am here. I am alive. Let me share in your sorrow and mend your wounded heart." Thranduil collapsed into your embrace, his sobs wracking his entire body as he struggled to breathe.

"I thought I had lost you," Your husband's voice cracked with desperation. You caressed his long golden hair, your fingers weaving through the strands with tenderness.

"You will never lose me Thranduil. Our love is stronger than the darkest of shadows. I have returned to you. Your heartache has been my own. But together, we shall find solace. Your love has given me the strength to return, and my love will guide you through this darkness."

Thranduil buried his face into the crook of your neck, his heartbreaking whimpers of relief intermingling with the beating of your hearts. You held him, pouring your love and strength into his wounded soul. With each passing moment in your embrace, Thranduil's spirit revived. Alive. The color returned to his cheeks, his eyes regained their vibrant gleam. The darkness that had threatened to consume him was chased away by the light of your presence. Slowly, Thranduil's sobs subsided, his grip on you loosening as he pulled back slightly. He pressed his forehead to yours before whispering,

“Gi melin, Ilmarë nin.” (I love you, my starlight.)

“And I love you. Always.”

. . . . . . .

Meleth nin = my love

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit x reader #thranduil x you #angst #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil hurt #legolas #thranduil oneshot #thranduil imagine #thranduil one shot

201 notes · View notes

agathne · 10 months

Text

the moon | thranduil of mirkwood

Description: Thranduil is caught in the most embarrassing position. In which, Elrond walks in when Thranduil is about to kiss you. [crack fluff]

Pairing: thranduil/elrond's-daughter!reader

Books tell you that falling in love feels like sweaty palms, nervous chills and heart thumping furiously against your chest - but every moment spent with him feels like waves on a beach. It's calm, not judging - you feel safe around him.

"I shall return to Greenwood in a few moons, is there anything that requires my full attention?" he inquired - nuzzling his head deep in the crook of your neck. He smelled like vanilla and cardamom. He was an elf that was older than you - older than your mother, but he is the only one who could relate to you. "(Your Name)," he says firmly this time, sensing that your attention was in another plane.

"I'm sorry," you turned your head in his direction - fingers digging deeper into his golden locks. "I was thinking about missing you, it will be years until we see each other again, Thran. Unless our houses miraculously bond with each other," you breathed - inhaling more of his scent. To others, vanilla may seem cold - but to you - vanilla was the scent of your home.

King Oropher kept to himself, he did not like the race of the Noldor. You couldn't blame him - for half of your blood was responsible for the casualties of his people.

His mother died because of the Noldor's thirst for the gems - but those days were past. They belonged to a bygone age.

"I do not wish to remain this way - I want to be with you. I want you to become half of my soul," you whispered, letting the embrace linger with your words. "I want the very same, melleth." he hummed - breathing in your scent of lavender. "Tell my father," you met his eyes.

"- ask for my hand in marriage, he will not deny you." you say for certain, already seeing the scene play in the back of your mind. "Yes," he responded - unable to fight against something that he too desired. He reaches for your jaw - about to bridge your lips together, but suddenly, someone walks inside your bedroom.

"Adar!" you scream, immediately rising to your feet - falling down the bed in the process. "By the grace of the Valar!" Elrond covered his eyes - unable to gather the powers to look upon his daughter's lover. "I apologize," you lowered your head - helping your lover to his feet.

Elrond takes a step outside of your room, hand around the doorknob. "I will not speak of this. I will pretend to never have seen this and - I will wait in my room for an explaination." he said to himself, closing the door loudly - face red in both anger and embarrassment.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction

352 notes · View notes

sotwk · 1 year

Text

According to the lay known as “The Fall of Gil-Galad”, upon this elven-king’s death, he was “the last whose realm was fair and free, between the Mountains and the Sea”.

…say what now? Excuse me, dear Middle-earth minstrels, but you seem to have forgotten about THIS GUY:

King Thranduil Oropherion is the Sindarin counterpart of the “High King of the Noldor”, and therefore comparable to the renowned High King Gil-Galad, but is sadly not given the same amount of recognition in stories and songs.

Allow me the honor of “singing” the ways Thranduil is very similar to Gil-Galad:

(1) Both were born in the First Age, and as young elves witnessed the destruction of the cities they lived in: Thranduil in Doriath and Gil-Galad in the Havens of the Falas. They were exposed to war and bloodshed at an early age and experienced living as refugees.

(2) Both survived and possibly participated in the War of Wrath. (You know, that really terrible, bloody, decades-long war that literally broke the world--that war.) According to certain interpretations of the film “The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug”, Thranduil likely did fight in the War of Wrath, where he “faced the great serpents of the north”. Elven warriors of the First Age were incredibly fierce warriors out of necessity, and if Thranduil survived those great battles when he was about 150 years old, that makes him extra badass.

(3) Both inherited their kingships from their forefathers. Gil-Galad’s claim to the Noldor throne (like his canon parentage) is a little murky, but he is related to Fingolfin whose line was pretty much wiped out, so only Elrond or Galadriel could have challenged his claim (which they didn’t). Thranduil’s claim is far more direct as the son of the first King of the Woodland Realm and ruler of the Silvan people.

(4) Both were warrior kings. Because canon stories of Thranduil are very sparse, we don’t know for sure which wars he did or didn’t participate in during the Second Age. What DID he do those 2,000+ years while his father was establishing and ruling the realm? Honing his warrior skills seems to be a fair hypothesis. How else would he have developed the deadly skills he exhibited at the Battle of Five Armies? How else would he have kept the foul creatures of Dol Goldur at bay without a magic ring? It’s very possible he’s seen more time on the battlefield than official historical accounts say.

(5) Both fought at the Battle of Dagorlad, during the War of the Last Alliance. Gil-Galad fought hard and valiantly to the end at Mordor, slaying Sauron by his own spear. Because Oropher died at the first onslaught, it was likely that Thranduil had to exit the war early, either to bury his father and their slain soldiers, or because he himself was injured. There may have been enough time for him to rejoin the Alliance at the Siege of Barad-dûr, to avenge his father and salvage his family’s honor and pride. But Thranduil, whom people mistakenly dismiss as arrogant or proud, was a king who valued his people and the soldiers under his command. It would have been easy glory to join the Siege since by then the war had been all but won (and won by the blood of his people, might I add). Thranduil chose to stay with his kin and help them through the loss of their king and many loved ones, and to reassure them that they were in good hands with him as their new ruler.

It’s a big, sad shame that Tolkien was not able to write more stories about Thranduil, his family, and the Mirkwood elves. Based on the theories we, his fans, are able to formulate about him, it seems he may have been the most successful, even most benevolent, Elven ruler of them all. He will just have to get his glory and renown in the “songs” and “lays” of our headcanons and fanfics.

Looking for more Thranduil content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist

My Fanfiction Masterlist

Thank you for your support and interest!

#king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil headcanons #lotr fandom #the hobbit #battle of the five armies #lee pace

606 notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 3 months

Text

"I Didn't Know That I Was Starving Till I Tasted You" | hobbit

➛ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

➛ When you get stood up by your date all you want to do is morph with the couch, eat ice cream and watch Pride & Prejudice. It's a shame your roommate/best friend Thranduil doesn't agree with those plans.

➛ warnings/tags: modern!au, roommate!au, friends-to-lovers, chef!thranduil, swf, kissing

➛ words: 9,3k

➛ an: sooo let's ignore that i said i wasn't writing anymore <3 i'm still not taking request but i have a few fics that i'll post over the next few weeks!

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The sound of keys turning in the lock sounds through your apartment before the door opens and closes, making you wince.

The piano music playing through the expensive stereo system is loud enough that you could blame your reaction for not reacting to it. After a brief moment, a deep voice echoes from the hallway, marked by an incredulous "Huh?" and followed by an urgent "What?" accompanied by hurried footsteps.

"Hello?! What– what are you still doing here? You should be dressed up and in a cab by now!"

Your roommate and best friend Thranduil rushes into the living room, you can see his tall figure out of your peripheral vision.

Not that it would change where he stands.

You don't bother to turn around and continue to hide between the mountain of pillows and blankets you had accumulated on the couch, watching the movie playing on the big screen in front of you.

"Uhh– Mister Bingley arrived from the North," you comment on the happenings of the Bennets' house, a spoonful of ice cream held to your mouth.

Thranduil steps closer, dropping his coat and a bag on the wing chair next to the couch. "What–"

Instead of answering his question, you let the ice cream melt on your tongue, mumbling a "5000 a year?" with a mouth full of chocolate.

"Talk to me, woman!"

"He's single!" you sigh happily and throw a dramatic hand in the air.

Before you can lower it again, Thranduil snaps and snatches your hand, cold fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you towards him. Finally, you look up to him and are confronted with your very baffled-looking best friend.

"If you don't tell me why you aren't on the way to the fabulous third date with Marcus-"

"Jake."

Thranduil rolls his eyes at the interruption: "Fine, why aren't you on the third date with Jake right now and instead sulk on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice again? I thought we promised to take a break from watching it anyway."

You push out your lower lip, pouting. "I'm not sulking," you say in a tone so drawn out it completely defiles your statement. Thranduil doesn't say anything, he just lets his gaze slowly wander over the blankets you are buried under, to the half-eaten ice cream bucket to the TV where the Bennet sisters are currently caught eavesdropping on their parents' conversation. He doesn't need words to express himself, the judgment is silent in words but loud in the raise of his dark eyebrow.

"Fine," you groan, admitting defeat. "He canceled."

Thranduil's gaze softens as he sits down next to you on the edge of the sofa and he slowly drops your hand from his grip. "He canceled," he repeats, eyes falling back to the ice cream.

"He canceled," you confirm with a sigh "Just like I predicted- so I don't know why I even bothered to dress up. I even bought that stupid dress just because he wanted to go out to this new fancy Italian place. He canceled and because I waited 15 minutes for him to not show up, standing outside - in the cold might I add- I think I am allowed to sulk a little!"

In the end, you had talked yourself into quite a rage and fall back into the pillows, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "And no, you said I should take a break from watching that movie but since you are not my mother I am allowed to watch whatever!"

You pierce him with a glare but only for a moment before you deflate.

"Sorry for getting all bitchy there," you shuffle around, hands searching for the remote to stop the movie.

"It's alright," Thranduil says and cocks his head. "Now that you are done, am I allowed to go after him and nail his balls to the ground for standing you up?"

A smile tugs on your lips as you shake your head. "No, you are not. I'm sure he has his reasons." The reason wasn't spelled out in the message but after hopping around in the dating scene for a while now, you know what ´I'm sorry but I don't think we really fit. You are a great person though!´ means.

It was nothing new, though it hurt the same as it did the first time.

"Well, unless there was a sudden death in his family I don't see a reason why he couldn't have canceled before the date," he huffs "-you know like a normal person would do"

You shrug your shoulders. "It's done now. Maybe it just wasn't supposed to happen."

"No, it wasn't. Not with a guy like him," Thranduil shakes his head, the long braid of silver blonde hair getting even more disheveled by the movement. "You deserve a man that doesn't cancel, doesn't let you stand outside in the cold!"

"Yes," you sigh again, staring wistfully at the TV "my Mister Darcy."

"He was literally the reason why Elizabeth ran out into the rain and cold," Thranduil responds deadpanned and you throw a pillow in his direction which he elegantly catches.

"I will not stand for this Darcy-hate! Ugh, you are such a bad friend," you whine, "I got stood up and you are making fun of one of the two people who have never let me down.. one person now that you decided to be a meanie!" You once again pout.

This time it works, a little too well because suddenly Thranduil looks at you with that one look of him, the one that breaks through every defense you could build up. He looks at you like you just told him you were dying, all the compassion he can find in his otherwise cold heart spilling out of his cerulean eyes that wander over your face.

"You know you have every right to feel sad about the date not happening," he says carefully, tilting his head slightly in a way that oozes pity, "You were looking forward to it, you even bought a dress for it. Let me cheer you up, I can cook something for you and we can watch a movie later or we can go out and drink until I have to hold your hair in the bathrooms." He smiles softly, sincere and it makes you want to jump up from the couch and hide in your room.

You two didn't do sincere; you bantered, you made jokes on behalf of the other and you most certainly did not comfort each other after a failed date. Your friendship needed lightheartedness, it thrived on sarcasm and arguments about everything and anything that came to your minds.

But the offer is tempting, especially the cooking part. Thranduil is a chef, working in his own restaurant; 'The Green Leaf' and he did a damn good job at it. Most nights, like this one, he comes home and cooks for you because apparently, Goldfish crackers were not as good for your diet as one part of the name misled you to believe and even though you made fun of Thranduils diet as well, fully vegan and with a distaste for anything that made life worth living like chocolate ice cream, he knew exactly how to whip up a meal that had you salivating.

You stare him down, weighing your options. Option one was to remain on the couch where you would shovel the ice cream down until you would inevitably get sick, watching Pride & Prejudice and mourning the never-happening and probably very boring date you would’ve had.

Option two would entail a doubtlessly very delicious meal as well as the possibility of getting drunk as fuck in a bar.

The choice comes easy.

"Okay," you agree and raise a pointed finger at him as a victorious grin spreads on his lips "But-" you wiggle the finger "you will not do this out of pity because I do not need pity from a man!"

Thranduil's grin only seems to grow, lightening up his eyes "No of course not. No pity here. I promise!" He stands up from the couch in a hurry, grabbing the bag he had left on the chair. When you don't move except to reach for the remote again, he shakes his head. "Leave Mr. Darcy for another day, you have to change!"

"Change?" you ask bewildered, looking around the apartment. "I thought you were going to cook here and not at the restaurant. Why would I need to change now?"

Thranduil scoffs, turning his back to you to walk towards the kitchen, his voice growing louder as it's accompanied by the sound of the fridge opening.

"Because I know you spent the entire day planning your outfit. You said you bought a new dress and I will not cook you an entire meal for you to sit there in your sweatpants!" he calls out and you throw your head against the couch with a groan that has Thranduil leaning out of the kitchen door

"You want the food, you follow the chef's orders," he copies the raised finger in your direction "Don't be a brat, get your butt off the couch and into your room before I have to spank you! I'll call you when you can come out."

The threat is met with you sticking your tongue out and one second thinking you could defy the order but that is until he fakes a quick step back into the room and you peel the blankets away squeaking "I'm moving! I'm moving!" while stumbling through the living room. "Jeez"

Despite knowing he would never hurt you the thought of Thranduil spanking you has you blushing a ridiculous amount and you don't turn around so he doesn't see it.

"But just so you know, I will wear the dress but only so I don't have to squeeze myself into it after dinner when we go out!" you yell over your shoulder instead and you swear you hear him chuckle before you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

The sweatpants land on your bed, followed by the sweater you had put on after getting the text message from Jack. You remain in your underwear, which you hadn't been bothered to change and stare at yourself in the mirror of your wardrobe. You are confronted with the blush the spanking comment had left on your cheeks and down your neck, and you scowl at the image.

He is your best friend and roommate.

Get a grip!

The dress you had bought for the date still hangs on the wardrobe door, a short, and black number that wasn't something you would normally wear but when you had stalked the Instagram Account for the place you would’ve eaten at today, nothing already existent in your closet had seemed fitting.

Staring at it now you question the length as well as the relatively deep front and back. After all, this was a normal dinner with your best friend, right? Yes, you would maybe leave for a club or bar after this and you had worn all kinds of clothes for a night out with Thranduil in your company but this dress had been bought for the sole reasons of looking sexy and with the hopes of getting lucky.

You shake the thoughts away and grab the hanger with the dress on.

This was a normal dinner with your best friend and this was just a dress. He had seen you in other skimpy clothes and literally any other form of dressed as well as undressed on several accidental occasions. There is no need to think this over and fall into an endless spiral of doubts.

With a nod to yourself for this mature thinking, wow, aren't you a well-functioning grown-up? – you slip the garment over your head, pinching and twisting the fabric until it sits to your satisfaction.

The hem barely covers your thighs, just doing enough so it wouldn't flash your bottom at the slightest movement but showing enough leg for you to feel powerful. The same was with the deep neckline. Bending forward was not an option, though it would draw eyes on you, hopefully.

You put the discarded jewelry back on again, a subtle choker necklace and a pair of more flashy earrings with - sadly fake- diamonds dangling and catching the light in them. The makeup is done quickly as well, some touches of a brush on your jawline, some lovely shade of lipstick on your lips, the movement of routine flows through your body with no need to really think about it.

After spraying some of your favorite perfume on your neck and behind your ears you wait.

Sitting on the edge of your bed you wait and you definitely don't think back to Thranduil's statement. No. Never.

Maybe a little bit.

Because when he calls out for you a fifteen-minute heads-up, you feel the blush coming back and the suspicion confirms itself at the last look in the mirror. You raise your head, challenging the woman in the mirror with an arch of the eyebrow before walking out the door and into what could only be described as a fever dream.

The living room is dark, the moss green curtains pulled closed except for a small gap where the afternoon sun filters through into the flat. The dining room table is clear from all the jackets, mail and stuff that accumulates throughout the day and week that are usually thrown on it and instead, there are candles.

Candles!

Candles in silver candleholders, like actual burning candles. Next to the expensive-looking candleholders is a vase filled with lavender, full and flourished purple flowers that fill the room with a soft and dizzying smell.

Suddenly you are very glad you are not in your sweats anymore, there is a heat rising in your body and setting your cheeks aflame.

Fidgeting with your hands you quietly step forward into the room to the kitchen, your eyes flittering from the table to the cleaned-up sofas and then you can see Thranduil rushing from the counter to the stove.

His back is turned to you, offering you a view of broad shoulders and arms flexing beneath the white shirt he had changed into, and even worse, the tight black pants he now wears, showing off his long legs and- you look a little higher, checking him out and blushing like it's a guilty pleasure.

Of course, the pants would show off his perfect arse as well.

You shouldn't stare.

No matter how magnificent the sight is.

And oh, it surely is magnificent.

You snap back into reality, take a lavender-filled breath, and walk into the kitchen.

It's a beautiful kitchen, not one of the reasons you had first checked out the apartment but one that had tipped the arguments for it in the end. And you are glad it did, because when you had taken roommate applications Thranduil simply waltzed into it, nodded and offered you the first year of rent with 25% on top of it if you would remove the pop-into-the-microwave-Lasagna from the freezer and never dared to buy something like that again.

His brisk and bold and sometimes very harsh attitude would've maybe frightened any other person off but you had seen the money, the prospect of a cook as a roommate and a handsome one at that, and had held out the contract with one hand while the other threw out the lasagna.

And look where that had brought you.

The kitchen is now filled with more vegetables than you have ever seen in one place that isn't a market, there is nearly always a pot with something ready for you on the stove and the fondest memories you have with Thranduil are baking Christmas cookies, throwing flour into each others faces so that your hair had been colored white like Thranduils, or you learning how to cut vegetables under his stern gaze because "No, you can not cut a carrot the same way you cut the bell pepper!"

Now here he is again, creating a memory that will never let you go.

You let your eyes wander over the stove, where one pot is cooking rice, the other has some onions caramelizing with garlic from the smell of it and Thranduil has one pan in his hand, throwing some cut tofu into the air while he brushes some oil onto white dough stretched into hand-sized bits.

He is fully in his element, maneuvering what seems like a three-course meal without any help or breaking a sweat. Setting down the pan with the tofu (hadn't that been a fun journey of convincing until you had let him cook that without any protest?) he wipes his hand on the towel thrown over his shoulder and turns to the cutting board on the kitchen island. He has even more flowers on the island, pink gerberas and white orchids stand next to his array of mint, basil and rosemary.

You have no idea what has gotten into him, there have never been this many flowers in your apartment except for the few ones some of your dates had bought you and even then they landed in the trash a couple of days later.

Sometimes Thranduil had even said he had confused them for some swept-in leaves after you asked him where the last bouquet went.

The man was truly an enigma.

"Smells good in here," you say and lean over the stove.

Thranduil clicks his tongue against his teeth. With a soft growl, he presses out a "Move," not sounding really annoyed but disturbed by you being in his way and with a giggle you move away to grant him free access to the pots.

"What is on the menu today, Chef?" you ask as you hop onto the island. No matter how much space Thranduil needs for cooking, he always leaves that one spot on the corner free for you to sit on.

"Tofu Tikka Masala you noisy girl," Thranduil doesn't turn around and for a minute you want him to see you, see the dress you have put on but then your gaze falls onto his back again and you blush.

Thank god, he didn't turn to find you checking him out, again.

"Couldn't you have waited until I told you the food is ready? Now I have you sitting around here, distracting me, even though I don't have a lot of time to begin with."

You know he is lying. He had told you more than once that you were a pleasure in the kitchen. Not at the stove but looking pretty sitting on your spot on the island and not touching a thing.

"Well, we could have ordered some pizza," you tease him, and he grunts. When he still doesn't turn around, you lean forward, a smirk on your lips. "Or we could have gone out to 'Oakenshields' and-" The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as Thranduil's whole body snaps around and you nearly squeak when he leans into your space.

Nose against nose, he stares you down, cerulean eyes holding yours without any playfulness in them. "You are on very thin ice," he says quietly and while you know he still doesn't mean it like that, you squirm under the gaze and sudden rush of adrenalin that his proximity is causing your head to swim.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly, sounding way too excited for your own good, and you try kicking him against his chin but he catches your leg before it hits him, and as soon as his hands grab the bare skin he lets go again, falling back like it had shocked him physically.

Cerulean eyes drop, leaving your face that suddenly goes up in flames and for a second you can see his breath hitch, his chest moving at the sharp inhale of air as he takes you in. The moment builds up, the atmosphere between you changes and charges with something and for this short, stopped moment in time you allow yourself to think:

'What if?'

Then a timer goes off, distant at first but growing louder when Thranduil's face shifts back to the usual calm facade that reflects not a thing of what is going on in his head. He sniffs, hiding behind his dark eyebrows when he lowers his head and pats you gently on your thighs.

"I'll rather perish than go to 'Oakenshields'," he rasps, the raw edge in his voice the only remnant showing that he was affected by whatever that had been between you.

Then he turns around and pushes the tray with dough into the oven.

He covers it up professionally with the joke, of course, because Thranduil Oropherion could never have been seen with feelings that go deeper than what any human would consider barely amiable.

Yes, he is your best friend and he makes an effort around you to not be the coldhearted asshole he is too, for example, Thorin Oakenshield, owner of the restaurant slash bar that the last critic had called a "serious opponent in the gourmet chef world".

Thranduil took the news so well that he had a furious meltdown of cooking for nearly 20 hours to create a menu that he would serve the critic to show him Thorin was not to put anywhere near him on a culinary level before he threatened to buy the paper the man was working for and fire him.

He only calmed down when he found out the critic had persisted to order his own wine choices and not the ones Thranduil had carefully paired with each course so he had decided that the man had no taste whatsoever and he couldn't give a shit about what he had said.

You had seen the irony in his statement and the state of him, tired, overworked, still behaving like a diva and you had just stifled a laugh and helped him clean the mess in the kitchen.

It was one of those moments that shows you he cares more than he leads on, about life, about people, about what the world thought of him but when it comes to love the man is as warm as deep diving naked in the antarctic would be.

He can be nice, living with him was pleasant and it got a whole lot more comfortable when you got to know each other better.

He makes jokes, he shows you how much he appreciates you through his food, you two watch movies together, go out, get drunk, get home and giggle when one of you trips on the doormat and after a few months he even lets you fall asleep on him when you came home crying because a date didn't go well.

You had seen him drive home in a frenzy when his mother had called him about his younger brother breaking his leg climbing trees, and he had another friend, Bard, with whom he had a friendly get-together every now and again; it was only the romance part he never talks about, never shows, never ever makes room for.

While you go out for dates- he works.

When you meet someone at the club you dance, you make out, you go home with someone else- Thranduil just ignores any woman or man who talks to him.

Thranduil's love life (if existent) is a mystery to you and that makes it even more confusing why he had looked at you the way he did just now. Why would he suddenly decide to buy flowers, to cook you an entire meal because you had been stood up and play-dress up?

Your brain is steaming with these thoughts by the time you catch up with reality again, a snap of fingers in front of your face pulls you back and you blink, slightly dazed. Thranduil stands next to you, body facing the cutting board in front of him but you can see him sneaking a peek towards you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you know what you want to do after dinner yet?" he asks, slicing some cilantro and parsley.

His long fingers wrap around the shiny knife elegantly, drawing your gaze in and keeping it locked onto the movement of him cutting a lemon in half and drizzling a few drops of juice into the bowl with the herbs.

You try not to stare at the few drops wetting his palm.

"We should go out," you say, voice wavering in between a question and a hoarse croak. You swallow and move your head before your eyes follow a few seconds later, blinking up at Thranduil. "There is this new rooftop bar- they opened a few days ago and are still baiting people in with the two-for-one drink offer."

Thranduil smirks, leaning his hip against the counter and wiping his hand on the towel. "Ah, yes, because that went so well the last time?" he inquires, eyebrow raised teasingly.

"I couldn't possibly know what you are talking about, Thranduil," you purse your lips, suppressing the smile just barely that threatens to spill out at the memory of the last time you went to a new bar, trying out the "new and never been done before"-drinks the small hipster bar had promised you and that'd ended up being the worst cocktails you ever had.

"You still owe me for the trousers I had to get dry-cleaned because you missy-" he half-threateningly holds out his pointy finger again, "you missed the toilet"

"You could have shoved me in the right direction!"

"Ah yes, blame the man that saved you from throwing up all over your date," Thranduil turns away again, adding coconut milk and chopped tomatoes into the pot with the garlic and onions.

"Occupational hazard of being my friend," you say, giving him the brightest and most dearest smile when he holds out a spoon he'd dipped into the curry, before leaning in and wrapping your lips around it, letting the flavors swirl over your tongue.

Then a low hum leaves your throat, a sound not only shocking you but also Thranduil by the looks of it.

By the look of him.

There is a sudden pink covering his face, right around his nose, showing off his prominent cheekbones in a way that lifts the gorgeous feature even more. It is such an unusual sight, Thranduil, blushing, that you are taken aback by it and the spoon slips out of your lips, nearly falling when Thranduil pulls it out of your mouth, clearing his throat suspiciously loud and rough that it sounds physically hurtful.

He steps back, hiding behind a "Good then?" that you can only agree to with a low "Yes" because– firstly you could never correct him on the taste of something he prepares, he knows your taste well enough to always get the spices perfectly adjusted to your preferences, and secondly your head is blissfully empty for any other answer.

The moment passes, gets drowned out by another timer going off, followed by Thranduil shifting into chef-mode as you endearingly call the shift in his demeanor into a controlled acrobat when he starts handling all those pants and pots, stirring here, tasting there, focusing on everything all at once with a concentration that nothing could penetrate.

You sit back and watch him with a soft smile, observing him as he pulls the bread out of the oven, and exchanges the tray with two dark green bowls out of the cabinets to warm them up in the leftover heat.

He moves with a grace that you surely could not copy, all of his long limbs knowing exactly when to push the rice away from the burner, ducking away when the steam of pouring the hot water into the sink would have given your face a free steaming and all that while looking extremely put together with his tight pant- braid! and white shirt he didn't even bother protecting with an apron like he always forces you to wear.

It's frustrating and attractive how much confidence he oozes in the kitchen. You wonder how the cooks managed to do their job without dropping to the floor and praising him like the godly being he seems to be.

He looks perfectly put together when he finishes plating up and ushers you back into the living room, where you are forced to sit down while he disappears into the kitchen and brings the plates and bowls, shaking off your offer to help every time you can barely start the question.

So you do what is expected of you and you wait, brushing off some hair of your dress- long silver blond strands that you twirl around your finger.

The kitchen light gets dimmed and Thranduil comes into the living room one last time, holding a bottle of wine in his hands that by the looks of it, and by that you mean expensive as fuck, must have been nicked from the restaurant.

He fills your glass, then his own and finally sits down on the other side of the table.

Before you can say something, he raises his glass, "To this evening."

You smile and raise your glass to his, "To Marcus-" Thranduil's eyebrow twitches but you only smile wider "Thank god he canceled, I much rather spend this night with good food and good company"

A deep chuckle accompanies the soft 'clink' of your glasses. You take a first sip, holding Thranduil's gaze over the rim and over the flicking fire of the candles that illuminate his face just right. The wine is smooth, and refreshing as it wets your suddenly dry throat.

You use the plate in front of you as an opportunity to look away without it feeling like you are fleeing from his gaze, even if the thought is heavy in your stomach.

"Everything looks delicious, Thranduil," you say, gesturing to the bowls with the rice and tofu tikka masala, the dough that turned out to be naan that he placed on a wooden board between the flowers and the candle.

Thranduil gives you an appreciative nod, grabbing a naan and ripping it apart. "I tried to make something that comes close to your planned meal of chocolate ice cream," there is a mocking tone in his voice, a drawl on the words chocolate ice cream that is the perfect mix between friendly teasing and his true disgust towards it.

You let out a giggle, following his example of dipping the naan into the curry. "Oh, you are so gracious for trying but we both know that ice cream is high above this. It doesn't even fall in the same food category to be able to compare. If you truly look at it, it's its own category"

"Never mind everything I have said, I've forgotten that I'm talking to the person who thinks a cup of coffee counts as an entire meal. How very stupid of me"

"Not everyone can start their morning looking like you do and have the energy to go out for a run and then cook breakfast," you shoot back, the realization of the compliment slipping out pours onto you when you see Thranduil's lips curve into a very self-satisfactory grin.

"So you are awake to notice," he leans back in his chair, popping another piece of the bread into his mouth and looking so smug that the urge to kick him is rising in you again. "You simply choose to act like you are non-responsive until you've had your coffee."

Instead of kicking him, you roll your eyes and fill your spoon with rice.

Yes, that was one way to put it.

The other would be that you are simply too scared you would say something very stupid and inappropriate when you watched him do his yoga in nothing but very tight pants while you sat on the couch and pretended to stare into empty space that just coincidently was very close to his arching form in front of the window.

"Yes, I live by the rule that coffee comes before any man."

"How rude, to consider me 'any' man," you want to say something but Thranduil is quicker to continue, shutting you up with that gorgeous smile, "Am I not the only man in your life right now who you don't leave on read after a while?"

"That is a very low bar to measure yourself with"

"Darling, those men you date offer nothing but low standards."

You nearly choke on the wine you'd reached for when Thranduil says these words, this term of endearment he casually throws into the sentence, far too confident to be a slip of tongue, far too soft to be meant as mocking.

He said it as if it had never not been there, as if it wasn't completely out of character. For a moment you consider reaching over the table to poke him, to make sure he is really here and not some (very accurate, word class if it truly was one) robotic imitation.

There is a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that only seems to twinkle brighter the longer you stare at him and you wonder if he feels like he has won the discussion or if he can hear your brain mulling over the 'darling'.

Either way, he doesn't comment on it further, not on this nor the matter of your dating.

Why he thought to do so in the first place was a mystery to you, another piece of the puzzle that was this evening. He had made comments about the men you were seeing before, subtle phrases made after glancing over to your screen and the conversations you were having, never really cruel but you wouldn't say that they were particularly nice either.

Sometimes when you came home from a night out, you never brought them back to your flat, Thranduil would simply raise an eyebrow, not saying anything and so much at the same time.

You dig back into your food and like always conversation flows naturally between you. Pushing the teasing and the sizzling of something warm in your stomach that you had felt in the kitchen away into the back of your mind you let yourself enjoy the moment, the comfort of sitting at the table, a nice dinner in front of you and the home-y feeling that was in the air.

Curry and naan fill your stomach as the wine settles in your head and laughter slips your tongue.

Empty plates get pushed aside, forgotten on the side of the table until later, making room for you to prop up one elbow and let your cheek rest in the palm of your hand as Thranduil talks about his newest ideas for his restaurant.

The candles flicker, coloring both your faces golden as the last bit of sunlight sneaks away from the tiny crack in the curtains.

After another glass of wine and some well-coordinated cleaning up, a hand-in-hand process of taking the plates into the kitchen where you load the dishwasher and Thranduil wipes down the pots and pans in the sink, Thranduil throws you out of the kitchen again.

You hop into the bathroom, spend a few minutes staring at yourself in the mirror and try to think about the outcome of this evening.

A few hours ago you had been ready to go out with someone else but right now, in the dim light that is too bright to conceal how flushed your cheeks are and too dark to be the glimmering sparkle in your eyes, there is not one thought wasted on any other guy.

It's a complicated feeling, being confronted with the crush you'd harbored on Thranduil for a while now and while it wasn't always easy to keep it at bay, it had been nowhere near as hard to keep your focus on the big fat label of 'friendship' that was the only thing ever to be between you.

Yes, you know that that label should hamper the want.. the need to kiss the ever-living daylight out of Thranduil when he stared at you across those flickering candles but who wouldn't want to do that to an attractive man showering you with attention he had given you today?

Any normal-thinking person would.

At least that is what you tell yourself, that these feelings are normal because he is attractive and not just because you are attracted to him.

Back in the living room, you fall onto the sofa, legs stretched and feet propped onto the small table in front of the couch, and fight the urge to cuddle into the pillows more than necessary. Any deeper and you would for sure fall asleep and with how your evening is going, that that would be a shame was an understatement.

"Thranduil?" you call out when another minute passes and the noises of washing up had quietened down and Thranduil still wasn't out of the kitchen again.

"One moment," his deep voice responds with a subtle grunt, "You can begin your search for a bar and please don't let it be the rooftop bar you mentioned earlier."

On another day you would have chosen a bar or even a club to go to, especially after your stomach did that traitorous summersault at the sound of his voice again.

Tonight, with your cozy little apartment smelling like fresh flowers and curry and your mind clinging onto a possessive and dangerous thought of 'What if..'´ you suddenly can't think of anything worse than going out with Thranduil.

Going out would mean that Thranduil's attention wouldn't be on you alone anymore.

"Thranduil?" you call out again, "Let's stay in and watch a movie."

"What?" He pops his head out of the kitchen and you giggle at the sight of soap bubbles on his nose as he wipes his hand over his surprised face. He rolls his eyes, lifting one arm, - oh god his sleeves are rolled up, exposing far too much skin and veiny arms for you to think clear- and wipes the soap away. "I thought you wanted to go out."

"No," you draw the word out, still hung up on the smooth-looking skin, "We talked about going out or watching a movie," shuffling your shoulders into the pillows you smile at him "and I think we should watch a movie. It has been a while since we did that."

Thranduils face softens and he cocks his head, "It has," he agrees, the tenderness in his eyes reaching his voice.

With Thranduil running his restaurant and your work demanding more of you there hadn't been a lot of time you had sat down and watched something together recently.

You still had your mornings full of nursing coffee and yoga and the evenings where you weren't on a date or Thranduil away on business you had gone out together.

The summer with all its warm and sunny days and bars filled with cool drinks and long evenings fading into soft blue nights had been fun- that didn't mean you didn't miss cuddling into a blanket on the couch and watching a movie with Thranduil where you spend the entire time making small comments only to annoy him.

"How about you sort out what movie you want to see and I'll fetch us a snack?" he proposes and you let out a hum. Thranduil starts to turn away, then halters, "And if you could find anything other than 'Pride and Prejudice' I would be very grateful."

You did, in fact, not search further for the movie that you had started earlier.

Something that Thranduil comments with a loud "God, please do not do this to me," when he reenters the living room.

Stubbornly, you shake your head, your finger dancing over the buttons on the remote control. "You won't know if you like it or not if you never stay to watch it through! What if this is your movie? You say you don't have a favorite movie, Thranduil- this could be it!" Your arms flare in the air, pointing the remote to the screen while you try your best to sound as motivational as you can under the skeptical raise of his eyebrow - though the corner of his lips twitch, betraying his amusement however hard he wants to look self-assured in his completely (unreasonable) hate for the movie you consider one of the best of all time.

It's only when he saunters closer that you see what he holds in his hands and it momentarily lets you forget the never-ending argument.

"Ice cream!"

He laughs deep and rough, always a bit darker and richer when he has drunk wine, his voice and tone taking on the velvety edge that clouds your mind just as much as the alcohol.

"That was much more enthusiastic than the reaction to the soufflé I made you a while back. Should I take offense? Is this your revenge for my dislike of this Darcy that you so obsess about?"

Sticking out your tongue you grab one of the two buckets he holds out to you, as Thranduil takes his place on the couch; always on the longer side where he could stretch out his long legs. "Do not disrespect the man of my dreams or I will buy the mac-just-add-milk-cheese," you open the lid of the carton box, reaching over to the table to place it there.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Mhm, I wonder if they still have the ones that only need water?"

"Please just press play you vicious woman," Thranduil pokes his finger into your side, admitting defeat with a desperate sigh and opens his own box of ice cream. When he sees you staring at it, he rolls his eyes. "What now? Can't a man enjoy something sweet once in a while?"

"A man yes," you snort "But you-" you poke him as well, "you're always on me when I buy ice cream and now you eat.. what is that..?"

Leaning into his space you ignore how Thranduil swats at you gently like he wants to get rid of a fly "It's chocolate, no way! My, my, should I call your health insurance and warn them that we will need a checkup? Maybe a brain-"

"Goodness gracious!" Thranduil groans, a sound that reverberates through you as you are still leaning into him, one hand propped next to his thigh, "Will you shut up or do I have to do that for you?"

That does shut you up instantly.

Not a sound leaves your mouth - left wide open as if he had simply pressed paused on your whole body - and you slowly turn your head away from him and back to the screen.

Now, while he did shock you enough with his words to let the teasing about the ice cream slide back down your very much dry throat, you can't help it to at least attempt to have the last word.

To calm your racing heart if not to for the sudden lack of thoughts, "Only if you swear to watch the whole movie without talking shit about Mister Darcy"

"Half of it and a little bit of shit-talking?"

"All of it and none of that!"

"Just let me make my comments and I will buy you your ice cream next time."

You squint your eyes, challenging him to stay with the offer and consider if it's worth it.

You could easily buy your own snacks, you did it every day you went grocery shopping anyway but there was a satisfying pleasure in knowing that the great Thranduil, hater of all sweets, would not only pick out ice cream for you, but pay for it as well.

Maybe he would even throw in something else as well, if you agreed to him and let him make his jokes.

In the end, you were simply grateful that he was here, sitting on the couch to watch a movie he knows means a lot to you, despite his dislike for it, and maybe that was enough..

"Deal!"

Finally, you eagerly press play, allowing the soft piano music to fill the room a second time this day.

While you can't help but smile, muttering the words into the spoons full of ice cream, Thranduil is less mean than you thought he would be. In the beginning, you could see him rolling his eyes whenever Mr. Darcy came on screen - something you commented with a sigh and a giggle - but like you always predicted, he soon relaxed into the cushions.

His face softens, just like his comments, mouth corners turning up as he watches the discussion between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in the reading room.

In one particularly dramatic scene, you turn to Thranduil with wide eyes. "See? See? Mister Darcy is just misunderstood. He's so in love with Elizabeth, but he doesn't know how to express it properly."

Thranduil rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, please. He just needs to learn how to be less insufferable."

You lean closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Darcy, Thranduil."

He scoffs. "Me? Like what?"

Despite the tone he lifts one arm so that you can really lean into his side and you follow the invitation. Drawing your legs up, ignoring that the hem of your dress rides up your thigh, you scoot into Thranduil's space and rest your back against the length of his chest. His arm remains on the headrest of the couch.

You grin. "How to sweep a girl off her feet. Be a little less aloof and a little more... passionate–" your voice wanders into a wistful sigh, words getting lost as you watch with bated breath as Mister Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage.

There is a deep rumble behind you, a hot exhale of breath hitting the back of your head and while it seems like Thranduil wants to say something, he remains silent.

When you slightly turn your head, you see him watching the screen with a look in his eyes that you can't pin point.

"Why exactly does he flex his hand like that?" Thranduil quizzes with what sounds like genuine interest and you nearly bounce off the couch in excitement.

"Okay so there are multiple ways that this could be interpreted, some think it represents his armor cracking because he has been so buttoned-up, closed-off all the time and now his muscles betray the character he is putting on," you start, the words tumbling out of your mouth fast and rushed now that Thranduil shows his interest "It's like he is unraveling slowly but surely."

"It's also the first time they touch," you add.

Thranduil cocks his head, "It is?"

The grin on your face grows wider and you nod enthusiastically. "Yes! It's the first time they touch and it's pure skin to skin contact which was totally scandalous in their time, hence the gloves and long sleeves. Imagine going on through your life with these walls built around you as a way to protect your heart and then there is this infuriating woman."

"I can't imagine," Thranduil throws in yet it's so quietly that you nearly miss it.

Nearly.

Your tongue trips over a few words as you continue speaking, caught on what Thranduil had said under his breath as if it had been meant for only him, "-well and she.. she is rebellious. She does not follow the etiquette of wearing gloves, she speaks her mind freely and she contradicts everything that you have been taught," you count on your fingers "And she must have been the first woman in a long time that has touched him like that, even if it's as simple as using his help getting into the carriage"

"Mhm," Thranduil raises the arm that isn't behind you and taps his lips. "And you find that moment important for their building romance?"

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Alright."

And with that, the topic is dropped and you both return to watch the movie.

That is until Thranduil's arm drops lower.

At first, you think it could have been unintentional, physics and gravity and all that stuff being the reason that his arm fell or slipped from the headrest on your shoulders.

It happens, maybe it had been tiresome to leave it up there, stretched away at such an angle. That is what you tell yourself in the few seconds where his arm simply.. stays still.. but then his arm bends at the elbow and the movement is so slow, so careful that your brain has enough time to forget the movie and focus on how delicately wary his hand comes into contact with the naked skin of your arm.

At first, it's just his fingertips.

Trembling ever so slightly they ghost over your biceps, giving the impression that he is still unsure on how to proceed and you wait, trying your hardest not to flex your arm and maybe scare him away and it's the hardest thing - this kind of touch was rare.

The waiting and effort are worth every second of agonizing stillness because following the tips is the hot palm of his hand, curving around your upper arm and holding you.

Your senses are aflame like the candles, lavender clouding your mind, cold ice cream melting on your tongue as the rough skin of his fingertips trails over your arm in the smallest circles.

Reflecting on the previous conversation there is one sentiment burning its way through your body, bringing with it all the moments of today, his hands on your leg in the kitchen, the storm of emotions crackling through his eyes like thunder, splitting his facade like lightening, the way he had reacted on spoonfeeding you the curry, the tension.

This has to mean something.

This has to be something.

You make up your mind to confront him about it even before he opens his mouth for the next commentary again.

"Darcy sure has a fantastic way to show his love," his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Nothing screams more 'I love you' than separating the sister of the woman you love from your best friend because you think the family is far too poor and lacks social etiquette," he scoffs, seemingly being his normal self and you would have believed him if his eyes didn't dart towards you, hinting at a touch of nervousness in those cerulean seas which lack the usual confidence.

"Maybe he is unsure how to tell her that he loves her," you say, holding his gaze.

"Well, there are other ways than this," Thranduil says, pointing toward the screen where Darcy is now standing painfully awkward in Charlotte's home that Elizabeth visits.

While you know that he is trying to follow Elizabeths advice of simple conversation, Thranduil doesnt seem to make that connection.

"Why aren't you out and about flirting with women?" It is a slip of the tongue, led on by the teasing you are so used to yet it comes out far too soft, far too wobbly. Quickly you add to the question with what is half cough, half laugh: "Huh, I mean if you are so sure that Darcy is doing something wrong, you should be picking up women, right?"

Thranduil raises an eyebrow in confusion. He opens his mouth, slightly tilting his head. "What? Why should I do that?"

Now you wonder if he was more stupid than you thought or if you heavily missed him having a girlfriend. Or not a girlfriend, or a partner. Were you that ignorant? Did you miss anything he told you about his sexuality?

"I–" you stutter "I didn't want to pry. I´m sorry. I.. I'm just wondering why you never go out on dates"

"Oh," there is a solemn look on his face "Ah, I had hoped this wouldn't come up for a while longer," He pauses, glancing at the TV and a feeble smile has the corner of his mouth twitching.

You don't have to follow his gaze to know that Mister Darcy has just followed Elizabeth into the rain; the only scene Thranduil has ever watched with you.

Maybe you had been ignorant before but the resigned tone in his voice is loud and clear. "We don't have to talk about it!" you rush in, "Really. No need to converse. Let's just watch the movie alright?" Without thinking about it, your hand moves to his chest, a reflex to gently pat him that dies when you feel the hard thumping of his heart through his shirt.

"I could never date someone, let alone think about a woman the way I think about you."

There it was again, the casualness that had tainted the 'Darling' from earlier. You would have laughed, hell, it is already bubbling up your throat when the heaviness of his confession crashes down on you and all that leaves you is a choked sound and a sudden lack of air has you gasping.

The combination of both hurts but not enough to cover the flutter in your stomach.

"What?" you ask not because you didn't understand him, you had heard every word, every syllable clear and distinct, but because you can't believe that you had heard it.

Your hand still rests atop his chest, feeling the heartbeat- hard and fast.

The same way he suddenly pressed his mouth on yours.

It happens quickly, leaving no time for you to react how you want to react and the only thing you can do is gasp.

The kiss ends as swiftly as it has started at the sound yet Thranduil doesnt withdraw completely. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath ghosting over your dry lips. There was a question in it, the same that is in his eyes when you gather the courage to look up.

Thranduil wasn't this hesitant, he was efficient, confident and so fucking sure of himself that his lack of those qualities right now spoke just as much as the kiss itself.

In the background, you hear rain but all you feel is your mind clearing up like the sky after the downpour.

Without further hesitation, you nod and Thranduil lunges forward again, this time with enough force that you lose your balance - or maybe it was the feel of his lips on yours that prevented you from catching yourself as you fall backward and crash into the pillows.

As far as first kisses go, most of the ones you had with guys were significantly worse. They were usually awkward, sometimes even uncomfortable because you weren't yet attuned to each other, but you weren't kissing a strange guy in a bar here.

You were kissing Thranduil.

You had been friends for years, you had seen each other in the most embarrassing situations, he had probably been confronted with your unclothed body more often than others, and if there was one thing he had noticed, it was what disappointed you about your dates.

And while he kissed you silly and stupid you were happy about exactly this perceptiveness.

His hair falls around you like a curtain, his chest presses against yours and you get so used to the weight of his body on yours like it has never been different.

And you hope it will never be any different.

"Shit," Thranduil groans against your lips, and you open your eyes, smiling up at him in a daze.

"What?"

"Now-" he kisses you again "Now that we got this out of the way.." Another kiss, a soft bite on your lips and you are so fucking glad to know that no woman has experienced this from him in a while. You are getting addicted to his kisses fast "..can you please stop dating these assholes and let me take you out for a real dinner?"

You nod hastily and lift your head to catch his mouth again. You only let him go for another second, when the perfect place pops into your mind - the last thought for the rest of the evening probably.

"Let's go to 'Oakenshields'"

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lotr x reader

326 notes · View notes

tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

Text

Stop Running | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing Thranduil/Reader

Synopsis: Thranduil confesses his feelings for the reader but they feel they are not well suited for a king and basically avoid him until they come face to face once more.

Content: Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: (#10 & #14 on this list). They’re in bold in the text below.

Requested by anon (so freaking long ago, I know! I’m so sorry lmao)

“I'm pretty sure about my feelings.” Thranduil had told you four days ago, in a soft voice while brushing his fingers through your hair.

Thirty seconds before you had fled from his sight.

You had been avoiding him ever since and he was growing weary of it. Of appearing in a room only to hear that, not even a minute before, you had hurriedly vacated it. Of not being able to just find you in these very halls that he knew like the back of his own hand!

Thranduil knew what he wanted and what he wanted was you. He had thought that you were of the same mind. So, how had him asking - very nicely, he might add! - to court you, ended up like this?

It was another week before you found yourself once more face to face with the King of Mirkwood.

As a very last resort, he had sent an official summons and guards had turned up at your door to take you to him in the throne room. There seemed to be no other way to get you to speak to him and he knew that you could not ignore an official summons, though he also knew that if you did have the courage to do so, he would have to be ready to dole out the consequences.

As it was, you went as willingly as you could given the circumstances. You had always been one to follow the rules, after all.

Once you were finally standing in front of him, Thranduil dismissed the guards from the throne room altogether. You kept your gaze forward, but not up, so you would not look at him.

Thranduil looked down at you from on high for a few long, silent moments, before he finally spoke.

“You are most difficult to find of late.” His tone was devoid of any real emotion but you could detect the hint of bitterness lingering in the background. Hurt. You could read him well enough... you always had been able to do so.

It was not that you did not feel the same way for Thranduil. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was because you felt the same way that you had withdrawn from him so suddenly. He was the king, he could not be seen courting somebody like you.

Thranduil was staring at you, waiting for you to speak, yet you gave him nothing. His frustration further spiked. He felt quite humiliated, truthfully, as he had never truly experienced a rejection such as this before and he would not have even spoken of it if he had not been so certain that his feelings were returned. So how could he have gotten it so wrong? He still was not entirely convinced that he had but he could not figure out why you would lie.

“Do you truly have nothing to say?” He asked, tutting as he suddenly rose from his seat upon the throne and turned, descending the stairs with slow, careful steps. He paced the floor until he was standing directly in front of you, looking down upon you.

Still waiting.

Still receiving nothing.

“If it is that you are uncertain as to my sincerity, I can assure you that I do not say things for the mere fun of them.” Thranduil stated, leaning down into your personal space just a little. “I am sure about my feelings.”

“As I am about my own. As in, I have none.” You snapped in response, not missing the hurt look that flickered across his expression before you turned your face away from him. “Please let me get back to my work, aran nin, or I shall fall behind.”

Thranduil straightened, silently glaring down at you before he shook his head. “I do not believe you.”

You blinked, lifting your attention back to him with a frown. “I am expected to take you at your word but you will not take me at mine?” You could not help but point out the hypocrisy.

Thranduil only scoffed.

“I do not love you, Thranduil.” You said quietly, doing your utmost to keep your voice steady as you all but forced the words out. You could not break, not here, not now. You needed to stand firm in your decision... even if it broke your heart to do so.

“And I said I do not believe you!” He hissed, reaching out and taking gentle hold of your arm as you tried to turn away from him. He tugged you back to face him, his other hand tilting your chin up and forcing you to meet his gaze. “Do you expect me to disregard all these years?” He wondered, his voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “All those long nights? All those talks? The ways in which you looked at me? You tell me now I imagined it all?”

You almost broke. You almost gave in. The pleading look in his eyes was enough to completely undo you but somehow you held firm, pulling yourself from his grasp and shaking your head. “You saw something that can never be.” You told him, turning and making for the exit. If he wanted to punish you then so be it but if you stood there much longer, you were going to break down.

“Stop running away from your feelings!” He exclaimed from behind you, his tone full of sorrow. Thranduil knew he was not insane. He knew he was not making it up in his own head. He knew that what he had felt between the two of you was real. The only thing he did not know was why you were now trying so hard to pull away from him.

“It was all just a dream, Thranduil!” You cried, spinning back round to face him, finally having reached your limit.

The silence that followed was deafening as you both stared back at each other for a long while. Thranduil studied you keenly, trying to read in your expression what you meant by your words but not entirely understanding.

“What does that mean?” He asked, breaking the silence first. He did not move, just stood where he was and hoped that you would not leave again until this matter was fully resolved.

You were frustrated. If he had just kept quiet, if he had not said a word in the face of your retreat, you would have been gone in a matter of seconds and you might have been able to continue to stand firm.

Yet, as well as you could read him, he too could read you. Thranduil could tell - he could see - that you were running from what you felt, from what he knew was real. Trying to squash down the truth of it

You sighed heavily, resigned as you lowered your gaze to the floor, shaking your head. “You are a king.”

“Yes.” Came his reply, his tone as if nothing about that fact mattered. “And?”

You lifted your head again, looking at him once more. He looked confused and you envied him for it. “And... I am not enough as to be matched with a king.”

His brows drew together as he stared at you, immediately shaking his head. “Nonsense.”

You let out a humourless chuckle, one hand raking up through your hair in exasperation. “It is the truth!” You cried. “I am nothing, I am no one! It was just a dream.”

Thranduil moved then, crossing the distance between the both of you in less time than you could process. He took your face in his hands and this time you could not find the strength to push him away. The fight had gone out of you.

“You are not nothing.” Thranduil’s expression was pained as he looked at you. “Not to me.”

“I am low born, Thranduil, I am-”

“What should that matter?” He interrupted, shaking his head as he kept your face carefully in place with his hands. His hands were soft, his touch gentle. He was afraid you would turn away from him again, afraid that your fear would come back and you would run from him.

“Why do you think it should not?” You hated how your voice shook but you could not help it any longer.

“I am king, yes, but that should not mean that I am doomed to cast aside the one I love, regardless of who they are. Would you have me take someone more ‘suited’ but wholly uninteresting to me, simply for the sake of being ‘proper’? Who cares if you are not some high born noble? Who cares! You can do anything, be anything. You can be taught the necessary work of a queen. It is not-”

“Queen?” Now was your time to interrupt him, blinking at him in surprise, though half of you wondered why. If he loved you would it not stand to reason that he would wish you to be his queen some day? “You... you would have me...?”

“Well, of course.” Thranduil said matter-of-factly, shaking his head as if he could not believe you had any doubt. “Do you truly believe this some passing fancy? Do you truly think me capable of such?”

He looked hurt and you were quick to shake your head. “No! No, I mean... I... I do not know. I just... you would make me your queen? In front of the whole realm? You would... you would truly?”

“Yes.” His answer came without hesitation.

You were not sure if you had known whether or not he was quite so serious about it. About you. You had been far too tangled up in your own doubts, your own worries and fears. However, something about him saying out loud that he wished to eventually take you as his queen was... shocking somehow. It also put into perspective just how seriously he must really feel. Even if you had known on some level, even if he had asked to court you, part of you must have still been a little unsure. As if you thought perhaps he would hold the beliefs you did about your status and would eventually change his mind. To be thinking of you as his queen, beside him... he would not say that lightly.

Thranduil watched your expression change. Your soft frown faded away. Your eyes widenened. The tension seemed to fall out of you and he dropped his hands from your face, skimming them down the length of your arms before he took your own hands in his.

“Please.” He whispered, not above begging, not when it came to this - to you.

You did not speak another word. Instead, you moved forward just a little and leaned up towards him, pressing your lips softly against his own. One hand let go of yours and his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Relief flooded through him as he understood your action for what it was. Apology. Acceptance. Adoration. Love. Everything you had been running from.

Thranduil knew then, as he swept you up into his arms and turned to carry you from the room, that everything would be okay.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #requests

2K notes · View notes

hottpinkpenguin · 3 months

Note

I'm in desperate need of sub Thranduil × dom fem reader

Don't care what it is, but i need to see this man put into his place tbh

Slap him, pull his hair, peg him, sneak up on him, drag him away to a secluded area, make him get on his knees and beg. Literally anything 😭😩 Luv ur work

A/n: there's nothing here but toe-curling smut :) hope you love it. MINORS: THIS WORK IS NOT FOR YOU!! DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ only.

Crawl To Me

Sub!Thranduil X Dom!FemReader (gotta be honest, Daddy Thranduil doesn't stay sub forever)

Warnings: smut smut smut, absolutely not even a whisper of a plot, P in V, creampie, squirting, dom/sub vibes, smacking - Word Count: 3646

You jerked upright against the carved wood of the throne, catching yourself just before slipping into sleep. The council of advisors assembled around the dais stifled chuckles at your reaction. The bard from Lake Town who was serenading you and your husband, Thranduil, didn’t notice. He pressed on, his reedy voice warbling over the painfully mistuned notes of the cheap lyre he plucked. You’d appreciated the gesture of appreciation from the residents of Lake Town for the role your people had played in rescuing them from Smaug almost twenty years ago, but after a long and tedious day of presiding over the business of Mirkwood, you desperately needed some excitement in the throne room to grab your attention. Next to you, Thranduil watched the bard serenely, his expression hovering between interest and fondness. He didn’t react at all, although you knew that he had sensed your uncharacteristically obvious disruption. Although you knew you should have been paying studious attention to the performing bard - like your husband - you found your restless mind wandering to other distractions. His handsome side profile did nothing but further escalate your scheming mind. A wicked smirk spread across your face as a plan took shape. Get rid of the bard, and release some of this damn pent-up energy.

As the plan took full form, you knew that Thranduil was tracing the direction of your thoughts. He could feel your eyes roaming across his face, lingering on his full mouth, remembering the feeling of his lips discovering every inch of your skin… down the long line of his throat and over those broad shoulders that you loved to cling to as his fingers and tongue and cock drove you wild with pleasure… drinking in the sight of his long, smooth hair, imagining how it would feel twined between your fingers. With a shudder, you dragged your distracted mind back to the throne room, uncrossing and recrossing your legs in the other direction, savoring the barest hint of friction in your legs. Thranduil marked the motion, his eyebrow raising imperceptibly. He knew you too well. It was almost a damn liability, and the knowledge that he could sense your awakening lust made it even harder to focus. You sensed his consent in the soft curl at the corner of his mouth and the way his long fingers ran over the smooth wood of the throne’s carved arm in languid, teasing circles. The image of his fingers sent a flicker of warmth curling up your spine from deep within your core. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you forced your focus away from your husband and back to the crooning bard, resolved to wait until the two of you were alone later that night to see your plans fulfilled…

**Three Hours Later**

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, stepping into your bedchamber and closing the door behind you with confidence. You heard the guards outside quietly leave to reposition themselves further down the halls, granting you and Thranduil privacy.

Across the room from where you stood, Thranduil froze, his hand mere inches from the green velvet robe he’d been reaching for. You’d timed your entry well; you’d entered just in time to find him shirtless, stripped down to nothing but his soft linen trousers, moments away from covering his exquisite frame in the robe you’d gifted him at the celebration of your marriage anniversary the year prior.

He heard the note of demand in your voice. He turned half to face you before you issued another command. “Don’t look at me,” you purred as you crossed the room to him. The muscles of his upper back flexed in anticipation as you approached. The sight of his body tensing in your presence was intoxicating. Your fingers came to rest gently on his muscled bicep, tracing a line along the ridge of his shoulder as you whispered in his ear. “Does my lord wish to be commanded, or take commands this night?”

You knew before he answered what he would say; the obsequious way he held his eyes from meeting yours told you that he was in no mood to make decisions. But, nevertheless, it was your practice as a couple to express your wishes in words, even if you were so attuned to one another that a mere glance could say more than your mouths ever could.

“My wish is only to please,” he replied softly. His blue eyes burned as he turned halfway to face you. “I will do whatever my lady commands of me.”

Your blood sang at Thranduil’s concession. You felt your smirk deepen as the plans you’d been scheming of in the throne room clamored for your attention. Where to begin?

“As you wish,” you replied smugly.

“Turn to face me.” You took a step back from Thranduil, allowing him to turn and face you fully. The candlelight danced across his muscled torso - a sight you drank in greedily. You kept your eyes glued to him, lingering on the trail of dark hair that started below his bellybutton, tracing a path downward to the part of him that you wanted the most. Your skin danced with heat as you undid the corseted laces at the small of your back, your dress loosening around your shoulders. You shimmied out of it, leaving the embossed black and silver fabric in a heap upon the floor. The cool of the night air mixing with your appetite for release made your skin pucker in goosebumps. You saw Thranduil’s gaze begin to move up the expanse of your bare legs before you issued your next command.

“I said, don’t look at me.” Your words burned with taunting, the feeling of power growing as you saw Thranduil’s expression crumble in disappointment. His eyes fell back to the floor.

“Your job, right now, is to listen. Can you do that, my lord?” Confusion flashed across his face. This wasn’t your usual fare, but you were set on a path and wouldn’t be turned from it now. He nodded once, swallowing thickly.

“I can’t hear you, Thranduil,” you continued seriously. He shifted with frustration as he replied, “Yes, my lady, I can listen.”

“Good,” you cooed, stepping back until you felt the bedframe connect with the backs of your legs. You sank onto the mattress, spreading your legs wide and displaying your naked pussy to him. Although his eyes never left the floor, you sensed that he knew what he was missing by the way he chewed his bottom lip, a large bulge beginning to form in his trousers, just below the flat planes of his lower stomach. His hands twitched aimlessly at his sides, almost as if asking your permission.

“You’re not to look, or to touch anything, without my permission,” you added, relishing in the way Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood, the most powerful and regal being you’d ever seen, crumpled in begrudging submission at your words. He nodded, biting down harder on his lip, eyes glued obediently to the floor.

“I can’t hear you,” you said teasingly, one of your hands coming to cup your breast, the other snaking its way down between your legs. Wetness was beginning to accumulate at your center, and you ran your fingers through it. The soft, squelching noise was quiet, but you knew Thranduil heard it. His eyes widened, almost darting upwards before he caught himself, swallowing down a muted moan.

“Yes, my queen,” he replied.

“Good job. Kings who follow orders always get rewarded.” You let the promise drip sweetly off your tongue like thick honey. Thranduil shivered with restraint, his head tilting on his neck as his eyes bored holes in the wooden floor. The bulge in his pants grew as the V-shaped muscles atop his pelvis flexed. His fingers found the edge of the dressing table he was leaning against and curled under the edge, desperate for something to grab. You thought about correcting him - reminding him that he didn’t have your permission to touch the table - but your mind was easily distracted by the sight of him getting increasingly needy. Your breath quickened as your fingers found the sensitive bud at the top of your slit, tracing soft and teasing circles around it. The tantalizing sensation and the vision of your subservient king caused you to gasp softly. Thranduil heard the sound and shifted with discomfort. A small spot of moisture at the end of his erection had formed in his trousers, and his knuckles were turning white where his fingers gripped the dressing table.

“Get on your knees for me, my king,” you commanded. Thranduil knelt almost instantly, his desire to please you so consuming that the floorboards shook under his weight. His cock bounced eagerly in his pants, and the sight only tightened the hot coil that was beginning to build deep in your core.

You shimmied yourself towards the edge of the bed until your pussy hovered right at the edge of the mattress, your feet flat on the floor and knees splayed wide. Thranduil still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the floor.

“Crawl to me.” The command was so delicious that just hearing yourself say the words pitched you an inch closer to your own orgasm. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with blatant desire as he obeyed, dropping to his hands and knees and moving towards the sound of your voice. The sight of him - half undressed, a faint sheen of sweat dancing across his creamy skin, long hair the color of fresh butter gleaming in the candlelight - on his hands and knees at your command was intoxicating. The pace of your fingers sped up against your clit, and you had to fight the urge to close your knees and rub your thighs together.

He closed the space between you quickly and hesitated. The sound of your wet fingers moving quickly against your slick center filled the room.

“Take off your trousers.” Thranduil did as commanded, undoing the lacing of his trousers. His cock burst free from his pants with a satisfied groan from you. His length was impressive, and even after the countless times you’d taken him, you found yourself practically mewling for him to be inside you. But you were resolved to draw this out, to extend your pleasure, and undoubtedly his as well.

“Kiss my thigh, Thranduil.” Your breathing was shallow, your command not quite so drawling as before. Thranduil lept at your words, his hand instinctively coming to grab your leg as he sat upright.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” you interrupted, momentarily moving your hand away from your clit to slap his arm down. “I said, kiss my thigh. Not touch.”

Thranduil looked half-crestfallen, half-crazed as he nodded with a quiet murmur of “yes, my queen” before he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, his hand returning to the floor.

“Higher,” you ordered. “And close your eyes.” Thranduil did as commanded, his eyelids fluttering shut as he traced a line of kisses up the inside of your thigh. You brought your fingers back to your clit, letting your head fall back against the mattress. Your orgasm was close, and you had designs on how to get yourself there.

“Keep going,” you murmured, your voice rising in pitch as you felt yourself climbing up one side of your climax. Thranduil’s lips were close to the seam of your thigh, so close you knew he could smell your sex, perhaps even taste you.

“When I tell you to, I want your lips on my pussy,” you heaved out, eyelids fluttering closed as your fingers strummed needily against your clit. Your toes were curling under, your calf muscles clenching as your thighs began to shake.

“Say the word, my queen.” Thranduil was so close to your center that you felt the deep baritone of his voice vibrating at your core. The sensation plucked just the chord you needed, and as you felt yourself beginning to come undone, you cried out. “Now!”

Thranduil’s mouth was on your pussy before the syllable had tumbled fully from your lips. He lapped and sucked and ran his tongue over and into you. Your orgasm crashed onto you like a thousand cresting waves, your ears filling with cotton as the earthly world fell away for a moment. You grasped at Thranduil’s head, pulling him harder against you as your walls fluttered and your thighs quaked. Your cries turned silent as Thranduil’s tongue sent you into bliss over and over again, the sounds of his slurping and groaning against your slit the only thing left tethering you to the moment. You drifted there for a while, catapulting from one trembling orgasm into another, until you didn’t recognize the words your lips were trying to form. Everything turned to a shimmering vapor except the mouth between your legs.

You felt yourself beginning to fall back into your body, your legs collapsing in exhaustion. Thranduil, much to your delight, had stayed true to his orders and kept his eyes closed and his hands unencumbered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, enjoying the view as he lapped at your juices greedily. His mouth and chin were wet with your sex, his cock so swollen it looked painful. Gently, you pushed against his forehead, breaking the contact of his mouth with your pussy. He pushed back somewhat, but your insistence won out, and he eventually sat back on his haunches, chest heaving slightly with exertion and desire.

“Well done, my king. I wonder, is it time to reward your obedience yet? Or should we play a bit longer?” Thranduil grimaced at the prospect of enduring more time without being given free reign to touch you and fuck you. You smirked, rising up from the bed on slightly quaking legs.

“Lie down.” Thranduil hesitated briefly until he caught up with your plans. With an eager grin, he rose from the floor and got on the bed, lying on his back. His cock lay against his stomach, its veins engorged, a small drip of precum oozing from its head. You felt yourself clench automatically at the sight of him, your core desperate to feel his girth inside you, stretching you.

You straddled him on the bed, deliberately letting your hair fall around your face and tickle his neck and shoulders. You hovered your pussy a hair’s width above his cock, letting the heat from your center dance across his member. He felt it too, because he jerked automatically at the faintest hint of contact. His cock twitched eagerly, barely grazing the moisture of your center. He hissed loudly, his hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to grab you.

“Your eyes stay closed and your hands stay at your side,” you reminded him. He nodded, not bothering to answer you at this point. You weren’t sure if he could speak; he was straining not to break the rules and grab your hips to drive himself shaft deep into you.

You sank slowly, not taking him into you, but letting your folds barely envelope his cock as you dragged your pussy up and down the length of his shaft, coating him in your juices. He groaned, the sound deep and feral. “You are cruel,” he protested darkly, bringing a fist up to his face so he could bite down on his knuckles. You laughed, thoroughly enjoying seeing him so utterly undone by the lightest touch. You sat back, your weight balancing on your knees, freeing your hands to come to your hardened nipples, rolling them between your fingers. The sensation caused you to gasp. Beneath you, Thranduil thrashed at the noise, a desperate growl emanating from his chest.

“Stay still, my lord,” you told him, one hand reaching underneath you to grab the base of his member, holding it upright until he was positioned at your entrance. He froze, chest heaving in exertion. You let your hips sink slightly, the head of his cock beginning to penetrate your core. Your pussy trembled, aftershocks from your previous orgasms mixing with the shudders of more to come.

Beneath you, Thranduil’s head was turned, his eyes glued to the wall. His face was contorted in focus and restraint, his brows knitted and his lips pursed. You reached down and cupped his cheek with your palm, gently but firmly turning his face towards you. “Look at me.”

Thranduil obeyed, his winter blue eyes locking with yours instantly. His gaze burned with an intensity you’d rarely seen from your husband. The neediness on his face matched yours, and it was almost enough to make you want to sink onto him. Just a little more play, you told yourself.

“Tell me you want me,” you ordered. Thranduil groaned impatiently.

“My queen, you cannot be ser-”

The slap surprised him. You struck him - not enough to damage, but enough to get his attention - squarely on the cheek. Without giving him time to recover, you grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, jerking his head back squarely to face you. His eyes were wide with surprise, but beneath that shock you saw that the contact had stoked the flames of desire, just as you’d intended.

“I said, tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” he uttered breathlessly. You slapped him again, this time harder. His cheek reddened, but he smirked wickedly before bringing his eyes back to meet yours. You let yourself take him deeper, the head of his cock now entirely embedded in your pussy, your walls tightening around it. You gasped at the stretch, another orgasm beginning to tighten your core.

“Again.” Your lust for dominance was so thick it felt like honeyed wine in your veins.

“I want you, my queen.” Thranduil’s voice was stronger this time, more insistent. “I want you so desperately I can’t think straight-” he paused to lift his head off the mattress, mouth connecting with one of your nipples. He nipped and sucked on it, quickly and roughly. You cried out, your head tossing back, composure and restraint crumbling. His mouth released your nipple to move to the other breast. “-I want you to scream for me-” Another rough nip dragged a cry of pleasure from your throat. He was gaining control over you, your body reacting to his touch and his words. And he knew it. His hands ran down your back until they locked over your hips, grabbing you so tightly you knew you’d have bruises there the next morning. “-I want you to cry out my name until your throat is raw.” Holding your hips exactly where they were, he drove himself with a hard jerk upwards until you felt his cock bottom out inside you. Your legs quivered, the sudden sensation of fullness extinguishing all semblance of control you had. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “-I want you to remember-” another hard thrust, your pussy trembling as you began to cum, crying out his name “-that you may command me-” you were coming undone, words turning to gibberish, legs trembling as your mind went white “-whenever you want-” your legs buckled, your weight coming down on top of him “-but I fucking own this pussy.”

He stopped talking, his focus exclusively on driving himself up inside you, again and again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything except let him take you. He relentlessly pumped his cock in and out of your core, your pussy squirting each time he almost withdrew from your slit, the sensation driving him mad with lust. He roared with pleasure as he pounded, once, twice more, the third time slamming himself as deep as possible into you and stilling. His roaring turned to mewling. Somewhere in the haze of your own fucked out pleasure you became aware that his cock was pulsating as he emptied inside you. You felt boneless, entirely dependent on his arms to hold you up, his hands gripping your hips with delicious intensity. He gasped as the pulsing in your center slowed, his face smoothing from white-hot climax to the warmth of a hard come-down. He let you collapse on top of him, both of you sick with sweat and your wetness. Your breaths synced and slowly, inch by inch, you both began to soften.

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms wrap around you. You lifted yourself off his still-twitching penis and lay on the bed beside him, your body pressed against his as you lay your head on his shoulder. From this angle, you could hear his heart beating against his ribs, and you counted each beat as the heaving of his chest gradually diminished. He turned his head, pressing a kiss into your hairline. He chuckled slightly.

“You truly are wicked,” he murmured appreciatively. You lifted your head, feeling drunk from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and gave him a lopsided grin.

“You don’t seem to mind, my king,” you shot back. He shook his head fervently.

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. After a few moments of silence, he added, “I think we should have that bard to court more often.”

You only pretended to be offended as you playfully smacked his shoulder. He smiled, a dazzling sight, before he caught your head gently and connected your mouths for a deep kiss. Before you knew what was happening, you felt him roll you onto your back, his weight coming to press down on your body, his cock already beginning to stiffen again as his mouth set to work on the line of your throat. You were about to protest, unsure if you’d be able to handle any more of him, but he caught your mouth with his palm. He looked up from where he was nibbling on your earlobe, his eyes simmering with an emotion you could only describe as eagerness.

“My turn.”

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thrandaddy #sub!thranduil

57 notes · View notes